Being called “just” a mom is offensive as hell. Any mother knows that this is the toughest job in the world. I’ve worked outside of the home, from home, and have also not worked while staying home with kids. I would always been quick to call out someone who puts down stay at home moms, but really the one I needed to call out was myself.
I’m a feminist.
Have an IQ a little above the cutoff for genius.
I’ve worked at huge organizations and national television networks.
I’ve studied abroad in two countries.
I believe in equal pay.
I want to be an example of what a woman can achieve for my daughter.
I’ve built my own businesses.
Something has not felt right in my heart and soul for a long time.
Today it dawned on me.
Despite wanting to fit the mold of a modern mom and woman, my soul is screaming for something else right now.
To be “just a mom.”
I have resisted.
I have fought it.
I have pretended my whole world and place in the world didn’t shift the moment I first got pregnant. And it made me miserable.
I thought because I:
Have an excellent (and expensive) education
Have an aptitude for many types of work
That I must work. I must have a career outside the home.
I said I’m a feminist.
But feminism failed me here.
I internalized all of my beloved ideas of girl power and equality as messages about how my worth is dependent on my ability to climb ladders, smash glass ceilings and make money.
But my worth is dependent on nothing.
I am enough and worthy whether I become president of the United States or never work another day in my life.
(Though we know that when it comes to working, there’s no job tougher than that of mother.)
Today I realized that (at least for now) I want to be “just a mom.”
Sure I’ll have hobbies, I’ll have a blog, I’ll write.
But I want my priority and job to be that of mom.
Not because I have to. Not because it’s my “place” as a woman.
Because it’s the place I am choosing because it is what my heart wants and needs.
And I also appreciate the privilege I have in being able to make this choice.
Many moms must work or must stay home because of life circumstances.
But perhaps the glass ceiling I am smashing now is the ceiling on the box I’ve created for myself.
The box of what a mother should be.
The box of what a woman should be.
The box of shame, self-doubt, guilt, and unaligned expectations.
I thought if I just get the next promotion, sign the next big client, hit revenue goals, that I would finally feel free.
But as surely as 1950’s housewives may have felt trapped by their role, I was in reality, just as trapped in this modern role of woman and mother.
I’ve always been radical. The black sheep. The psychedelic sheep.
So I’m practicing radical motherhood.
I’m throwing my entire soul into being a mom.
Being “just a mom.”
Because it is my choice, and what my heart is calling me to do.