identity crisis revisited in my dreams

last night i dreamed that i had a show and was at the gallery setting up. there were several artists showing in the space. we each had our own little area to exhibit our work. i was unpacking my work, only to realize it wasn't my work at all. i looked at it and thought, 'ah well, close enough', and began to hang the work. as i started to arrange it i realized there were 2 pieces that had several parts to them. the paintings were like a puzzle of various sized canvases that all fit together somehow. the gallery director was walking by looking at me while i obviously had no idea how to put "my own" work together. i realized that i'd better go home and get my own paintings when the director asked me a couple of questions about the work and i didn't even know how to talk about it.

i started heading home when i saw other artists from the show lining up in some yard and figured i'd better do the same. i was thinking of how soon i'd be home and i'd get this all sorted out with the work, and i'd get to see peanut (my daughter) too. it is still very rare that i spend a couple of hours away from her. i was missing her so much. thinking about all this, i sat on a chair in this line up. my legs were apart and i was wearing a short skirt with no underwear. the director spotted me, and i ran to my car in embarrassment.

the end.

p.s. s, we are so in sync, no?

Identity Crisis Revisited

A few days ago, while I had my camera at my side to record sweet moments of my daughter crawling and exploring, I was busy cooking, baking and doing laundry. It was one of those days that I felt as though there must be something I'm doing incorrectly if there's this much to do at once.

I was making a curry inspired by the fresh corn I had just bought at the market. The peppers were arranged artfully on the cutting board. I grabbed my camera and snapped a couple of shots. I thought it was a good idea to document the work I do in a day to make myself feel better about the work I'm not doing in a day.


Then came the muffins. These were a successful try at inventing a healthful baked good for my almost 11 month old daughter. I had been feeling as though I had been feeding her the same old thing day after day, and not feeling good about giving her store bought breads etc. I still give her cereals, but want to include more grains in her diet. Baking was the answer, and here was the result:



I'm going to share the recipe with you before I get into why I think I must be insane, and how this all has to do with the identity crisis at hand...

Corn and Oat Baby Muffin Recipe (Mom and Dad love them too!)

1/2 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
3/4 cup boiling water
1/2 cup raisins
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup unsweetened apple sauce
1 cup whole yellow cornmeal
1 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup oat flour
2 tbsp flax seeds
1 tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 cup plain yogurt
1/2 cup milk
2 large eggs

-preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
-greast muffin tin
-place oats in mixing bowl and pour boiling water over them. add raisins and butter. -stir to combine, then set aside to cool.
-whisk together cornmeal, flours, baking powder and soda, salt.
-stir buttermilk and eggs into the cooled oat mixture
-add dry ingredients and mix until everything is moist
-bake for 25 minutes.

-adapted from King Arthur Flour's Whole Grain Baking Book

Okay, so my insanity has brought us a new recipe which my kid looooooves. Honestly, she went nuts over these. It was hard to get her to eat anything else once the muffins were introduced.

But in looking at my photos, I see a perfectionist. A perfectionist that I don't normally associate with myself. Then I feel sad and I mourn the creator in me who just enjoys making things. In the days before the baby came along, it would have warmed my heart just to make a nice meal for friends. Now I'm documenting it to prove something to myself about productivity. I'm producing a human being over here for god's sakes! What the hell am I doing to myself?

And in that day that I baked the perfect muffins, made the awesome and artful curry, I did 3 loads of laundry, washed dishes, took my kid to the park, ran for half an hour, and did 3 hours of money earning work.

My therapist and I have been talking about this at length. I have been crying about this at length. As it turns out, I am realizing that not only am I trying to be the great and present parent that my parents were not, I'm also listening to a voice in my head that isn't altogether my own.

My dad passed away almost 2 years ago. He was a tough guy. Lovely in some ways, and particularly if I were "hitting home runs", as he used to call it. In other ways, he could be very hard on me, particularly if I wasn't doing what he considered productive (aka making moolah.) Apparently when a parent passes away, the negative or positive voices they once spoke become stronger as a way of keeping them alive. And while I had some very positive words from him, I was very sensitive to the negative, and that's what I hear.

I have no doubt that I'm being hard on myself for several reasons, many of which I blame Hollywood and the boob-tube for. But I can't ignore the fact that my dad's voice creeps up the moment I find myself relaxing. I remedy the voice echo by getting up and working my ass off. This is nothing new, but has become worse since I have become a mother. It's a many layered problem with reasons feeding reasons.

I'm glad to know that though the millions of baby books out there don't usually touch on this subject, there are others out there who are experiencing the same thing. My bestest friend S sent me to this blog entry, and I was happy to read that my insanity in this respect is not altogether unusual.

First Time Mom = Major Identity Crisis

I never thought it would happen to me. I always thought I was pretty secure in knowing who I am. As it turns out, I have taken the societal myth of the "Super Mom" quite seriously on a subconscious level. I feel that I have to be the best at everything, that I need to wow myself and the world at large by being a fantastic parent, housekeeper, cook, artist, designer, breadwinner, daughter, sister, friend, etc. The pressure I have put on myself since becoming a mother is unreal and unbearable.

I have a daughter that doesn't sleep. I am with her during the day, and am up with her through the nights often as well. (I have just started to wean her from her night feeds, so hopefully this will change soon! Please let it change soon!) For several months now, I have been working every moment that she sleeps. I have taken on contracts beyond what I feel to be reasonable, work my butt off to impress my clients, all so that I can feel as though I am not only a mother, but also surpassing clients expectations of a job well done.

What is bizarre about this is that I somehow have forgotten to pat myself on the back for a job well done as a parent. I'm not perfect by any means, but I know I am a thoughtful parent; that I try my very best to provide as much love, support, patience, stimulation and empathy I can muster for my daughter to thrive. As any mother knows, it is a full time job. Overtime, in fact. It's a job that I love. I adore my daughter and am so happy to be home with her, caring for her, watching her grow into a thinking individual. It's the most wonderful job I could imagine.

So why am I trying to prove to myself that I am so much more when being this I love? I guess I find it hard to drop my old identity. It's hard to stop seeing myself as being self sufficient - to admit that I am so stretched thin that I can't expect myself to make a good income right now. And if I am taking on work, I may not wow them every time.

I never realized how hard I am on myself until recently. I only really started to see it when it became so bad that it stopped making sense even to me. I couldn't justify my actions. I couldn't explain to myself how or why I was taking on more.

I've promised myself to break the pattern of this madness. I need to rely on my husband more and not feel terribly about it. I need to feel great about my new identity because it truly is a wonderful thing, and an important job. When new jobs present themselves I need to assess why I feel like taking it, if I feel pressure to do so - from within or otherwise. I need to keep my eye on the ball - the ball being my baby and my health. What am I teaching my little girl by running myself into the ground. I don't want her to follow this example. I want her to be happy, to enjoy life. And enjoy life she will!

In the last week with this identity crisis on the brain, a few great opportunities in my art career have come to fruition. I am now being represented by another gallery here in my city, was invited to exhibit in a group show that is pretty darned exclusive, and then another invitation to a group show as well. Doors are opening in the areas that are important to me. I don't want to be a business lady. If I have baby barf on my shoulder and paint on my hands, I'm all the happier.