Identity Crisis

I used to have dreams.



I have, variably, aspired to be a novelist, poet, chef, jeweler, marine biologist, storm chaser, meteorologist, Coast Guard, and on and on. I have failed, miserably, at them all. My day consists of trying to make it through the day at work, trying to understand my relationship, and trying to be a good mother. That is one thing I desire more than anything not to fail at.



Don't get me wrong about my job. I love my job. I think that, with the exception of maybe secretary or transcriptionist, it is the job I was born to do. I consists of a lot of research, a lot of knowledge, and a lot of typing, so... It's right up my alley.



The thing is, I am 8 months pregnant, and it is getting harder and harder to sit in that chair for a few minutes, much less 10 hours. I try, though, because I love the work, and, well, honestly, I am getting to that point where I go to work to escape my problems.



When I gave birth to Nicholas, I was young. I was young, recently married to his father, and broke. I stayed home for two months after having a c-section, but then went back to work with a vengeance. I worked my regular 40 hour work week at my regular store, then also 40 extra hours at another location that needed help at the time. (This was a different job than the one I have now.) I started moving through ranks, too. I moved from cashier to assistant manager to manager, always willing to work overtime or go to other stores to help out.



By the time Nicholas was five years old, I was a manager of my own store, working anywhere from 60-70 hour weeks, always working 6-7 days a week. I would go in early, around 5am or earlier, and get out in the afternoon, sometimes as late as five pm. It was an abusive job in every way you can think of. I was losing my sanity, my health, my family. After five and a half years I put in my two weeks' notice, went home early the day I did, and prayed like hell for another job.



In fact, the very day I did, I was on my way home crying and praying that I had not condemned my family to the loss of everything because I did not have any applications or interviews. No jobs lined up. But, the Lord works in mysterious ways. Not ten seconds after I stopped praying I got a call from a place I had never heard of working as a telephone banker. I had no experience. The last time I worked for a call center it had been hell. But they were offering me a job when I needed one, and I had not even applied. So I took it.



This job has turned out to be a blessing in so many ways. From the people who helped me through emotionally after my separation from my husband of seven years, to the company standing behind me as I took six months to recouperate from a horrendous accident, to moving me to another location closer to home when we acquired it, I could not have asked for more in a job.







So why the discontent?







After the accident, I lost myself. Everything I had not been I became. Everything I had been, I lost. And the guilt and regret of how I had lived my life up until that point became nearly unbearable.



Where I had once been independent and nearly insensitive, I became clingy, needy, and scared.



I realized my son was seven years old, and all I had were patchwork memories of highlights. He didn't really know me. I didn't really know him. I had spent his life working, trying to make sure that we had what he needed...shelter, food, water....and then some. He had so many toys it was unnatural. But that's been my life. His father worked when he could, but after he hurt his back, he stopped living. He was still bringing money in through short term disability, but not as much. And it was difficult to see his lapse into depression because I had not been there. Not yet.



I can't say much has changed. I still go to work. I try to get overtime when my health allows. But I don't know what I am doing when it comes to parenthood. Now with my second child only a month from being born, I am terrified. All I can think is, how am I going to love this child like he needs to be loved while somehow showing Nicholas that he is still my baby? I don't want him to feel like I am giving this child the love that I never afforded him, because I love Nicholas dearly.



I cry sometimes thinking about all the things I missed, all the things I am still missing, and how distant of a parent I have been to a wonderful kid who has already gone through the anguish of divorcing parents.



God help me.







Then I look at my relationship with John and wonder who I have become.



I used to get angry when Nick's father would cry. He used to tell me I was insensitive and cold because when we fought I would shut down and become distant, aloof. I remember getting into arguments with him because he would get upset that I would not cry when we were arguing.


While I don't go quite that far - I would not like to see John cry - I can understand where Nick's dad was coming from, because sometimes it feels like my emotions hit a brick wall with John. Like it offends him to see me cry or if I tell him something he said or did hurt my feelings.



Of course, I am 8 months pregnant.









So that brings me to my identity crisis.





How do I bring this child into the world and guide him and care for him and love him and nurture him, when I can do none of those things for myself? I am still needy and clingy and scared. Whether it is post-traumatic stress crap from the accident or the divorce or my own self-realization or my past relationships or a combination of the four, I constantly feel at a loss. Like I am losing John, like I can't trust him, like he's going to disappear one day.



I am still coping with and recovering from all the health issues that ensued after the accident. I can walk without a cane sometimes, but not for very long, and not without fear of my knee or leg or ankle giving out from under me. And being pregnant, I cannot afford the risk.



And last but not least and probably most importantly, how do I fix my relationship with the son I already have and at the same time be the mother I could not be to him, to my new son?





And where do I go from there?