To the mother who's only good at motherhood.

A few weeks ago, I realized something about myself: "I'm only good at motherhood"

 

You see, I suffer from the SAHM syndrome where mothers, once an integral part of society, become further removed from the outside world. The newborn phase of our firstborns quickly catapult us into a life that is almost hermit-like.

 

Afraid to expose our freshly birthed offspring to any germs outside of the comfort of the home, we spend weeks and months "off the grid". 

 

I've never actually come out of that existence. Homeschooling, homebody, homemaker....that's what I've become. A professional SAHM. Devoid of real relationships and filled to the brim with dreams and self-pity. 

 

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore my children, my home, my blessings, my marriage. I've just allowed all of those things to completely turn me into a submissive robot which has no time for anything else. 

 

Not worthy of socialization. Not worthy of achieving anything outside of weekly grocery shopping and keeping them all safe and happy. 

 

My mother and I. Summer, 1984. 

My mother and I. Summer, 1984. 

A friend that's been a sister to me since 2004. 

A friend that's been a sister to me since 2004. 

My only love. Summer, 2004. Engagement photos.  

My only love. Summer, 2004. Engagement photos.  

My first and last selfie, fall 2005. The days I could still rock the side ponytail. 

My first and last selfie, fall 2005. The days I could still rock the side ponytail. 

I've done myself and my family a disservice with my lack of ambition. 

 

I've become a professional SAHM "I'm-not-good-enough-for..." excuse-maker. 

 

It's like I've become allergic to taking risks. 

 

I'm tired of it. 

 

I'm tired of waiting for the community to come to me. 

 

I'm tired of wishing I had a bigger blog, a better body, or a creative way to pay off my student loan. 

 

I'm tired of waiting for everything to just fall from the sky because I honestly only think I'm good at one thing and one thing only: motherhood.

 

So I'm taking risks. 

 

I plan on taking shy and burying it in the ground. While I may never be a social butterfly like I was in my childhood years, I can purpose to step out and simply just introduce myself.

 

In fact, just today, I went on a field trip without my best friend and her children. That's not normal for me. I feel like the elephant in a room full of tiny mice, everyone just glaring at me. "Who's she?" they think as they all converse in their homeschool mothering clique. At least, that's what I tell myself they are thinking. I feel out of place in the place I should feel the most "in place". Mothers, just like me, surrounded by more than your average number of children, we're all living carbon copies of each others' lives. 

 

I'm making a point to do the hard work to make my dreams come true. Blogging, writing, authoring, making money that way and actually having a large audience for my work, that's my heart right now. It's not happening naturally. It's discouraging. I've spent many a night in tears over the 1 or 2 views on the blog I may have received that day. 

 

I'm tired of feeling sorry for what I can't accomplish. I'm tired of being timid and believing "I'm just never good enough." 

 

This picture of my sister and I being program passer-outers at our cousins wedding is just funny. 1990.  

This picture of my sister and I being program passer-outers at our cousins wedding is just funny. 1990.  

One of my best friends from college. One of the best times of my college days, the Yellowcard/Something Corporate concert at Longwood University. 2004.  

One of my best friends from college. One of the best times of my college days, the Yellowcard/Something Corporate concert at Longwood University. 2004.  

 

"But you're good at so many things..."

 

That's what I hear from the closest ones around me. I never believe them. Beyond baby making and having perfected my grandmothers chocolate chip cookie recipe, I don't believe them. 

 

The sister and I. I can't do life without her. Spring 2003. 

The sister and I. I can't do life without her. Spring 2003. 

So, this letter is for me. It's for you, too. If you're that mother, like myself, that honestly believes they've lost everything about themselves sans motherhood. It's for us. We have to stop believing that we aren't when we are. We can. We have so much to offer beyond our houses. All of those things that make us shine in our households, well, those things can be used to encourage the world. 

 

I encourage you, mother who believes she's just "not much" lately, to go bury the lies and live with vitality and fervor. I'm taking baby steps. Let's learn how to walk together. And then, we will run. 

 

Love, Alicia 

Junior year of college. My best friend/roommate and I had matching yucca plants. We gave them Korean names because I always wanted to adopt from South Korea. This is Joo-Chan.  This is also when I had collarbones. 

Junior year of college. My best friend/roommate and I had matching yucca plants. We gave them Korean names because I always wanted to adopt from South Korea. This is Joo-Chan.  This is also when I had collarbones. 

My wedding day and my dear friend from college who was lovely enough to play violin for us.  

My wedding day and my dear friend from college who was lovely enough to play violin for us.  

ps. Go find a few pictures of yourself before motherhood. If you've lost the sparkle in your eyes, find some pictures where you have it in full display. A picture of you laughing with friends, one from the happiest day of your life, etc. Then remember what it was like to be that girl with eyes wide open and dreams stacked to the ceiling.  

 

Sibling love. 2011

Sibling love. 2011

Newlyweds, 2005.  

Newlyweds, 2005.  

My sister loves this picture of me so much. It reminds me how much I LOVE to laugh. I mean really laugh to the point where you're spitting out your drink in your hand. Sometimes I don't laugh as much as I should.  

My sister loves this picture of me so much. It reminds me how much I LOVE to laugh. I mean really laugh to the point where you're spitting out your drink in your hand. Sometimes I don't laugh as much as I should.  

My best friend from college. We were quite the pair. I actually have no clue how we got marshmallow in our eyes. We were mostly absolutely crazy.  

My best friend from college. We were quite the pair. I actually have no clue how we got marshmallow in our eyes. We were mostly absolutely crazy.  

My sophomore year dorm hall. They threw me a surprise lingerie shower. The most fun/embarrassing time. Spring 2004.  

My sophomore year dorm hall. They threw me a surprise lingerie shower. The most fun/embarrassing time. Spring 2004.  

www.amamasstory.com

www.amamasstory.com