“It’s a Wonderful Life”

I have a great life. My husband of 16 years is incredible. He’s a Major in the Army and has supported me and spoiled me to no end. Yes, we’ve had problems. Yes, we’ve had some serious lows but, he loves me with all of his heart and I know it. Together, he and I have 3 sons. Our oldest, Malcolm, is 17; Noah is 13; and Louis is 6. Things are good. Most of the time.

As a mother, there’s a secret many of us have that we wouldn’t dare say to anyone, let alone put online but, I’m going to do it. I’m going to “spill the beans” as they say.

Sometimes, I don’t want to be a mother.

There. I say it. It’s out in space. But, I’m going to let the word vomit continue.

Sometimes, I don’t want to be a wife.

Yep. I just said that too.

I don’t know if I’m the only one willing to admit such a thing but, I have and I won’t take it back because it’s the truth. There are times in my life, in my great and wonderful life, that I don’t want to be a mother or a wife. I’ve had days where I have thought, seriously thought, about buying a Greyhound bus ticket and riding off into the unknown. I don’t think it’s anything I would ever do but, it’s still a tiny thought in the back of my mind.

            I love my husband and I love my kids; I would do anything for them. I would die for them if I had to but, there are times when I just want to be me. Is that wrong? Is that a secret I should hide forever? Does that make me a bad mother? A bad wife?

I hope not. I hope it just makes me . . . me.

So many times we as women have to squeeze ourselves into whatever mold we’ve been presented with. Wife. Mother. Sister. Lover. Friend. Sometimes it’s hard to shed all of our preset layers in order to find who we really are. Honestly, right now in my life, at the age of 37, I don’t think I have a clue about who I really am and that’s kind of scary. I mean, if everything was stripped away, what would I be left with? I think it’s so important for women to find out who we are outside of our many roles. I hope to do that.

            It’s so hard to be everything. Motherhood is hard. Yes, it’s wonderful, amazing, incredible, and all those other things but, being a mother is work hard. At times I find myself overwhelmed, scared I’m not raising them right, scared I’m going to let them down, that maybe I’m just not good enough for them. As a black woman raising black sons, I’m scared something, anything, could happen to them at the hands of a white person who views my sons as threats.

            Being a wife is almost equally as hard. There’s a partnership that is created when two people say “I do” and you’re no longer just living by yourself and for yourself. Being married means being two halves of a whole. It means not always getting your way, and I’m not just talking about who decides on the restaurant we’re going to eat at after church on Sunday. I’m talking about the finances, the children, the sex. Everything.  Not only are you trying to take care of your own needs but also the needs of your husband. We, as wives, have to be supportive, encouraging, loving, passionate, but not overly possessive or nag too much. 

There are times when I wish I could go back, back to the days when it was just me. When I was just Tiffany and not Mommy or Tiff (as my husband calls me). Sometimes I wish I had a simple job where I got up in the morning, didn’t have to worry about doing anything for anyone other than myself. I wish I could go to work, come home, and fix a small dinner for myself, watch TV alone and crawl into a warm bed alone and sleep.

I know someone might be reading this and thinking, “She’s terrible,” but, that is my truth and that truth doesn’t negate any of my other truths. I don’t believe I have to feel one or the other: I love my family but there are times when I want to be alone. Yes, I desire the peace of solitude but, I also love the chaos of my life. I think the struggle comes from balance, or lack thereof.

Without balance, our scales tip too far in one direction or another, never to meet in the middle. When that happens, we became ALL the others and NONE to ourselves. I don’t want that to be me. I don’t want to ever give so much of myself that I leave nothing for myself. I think I have a right to be selfish. I think we all do to a certain extent.

I hope I’m making sense. Maybe I’m not and you’re reading this thinking: “This woman is crazy.” I hope not, I hope you can understand at least a little of what I’m talking about. As women, I think there’s a point in our lives where we think: “In order for ‘them’ to be happy, I can’t be. Well, maybe I can a little bit but not fully, completely, and totally happy and free.”

Maybe you’ve never felt this way but, I know I have. Sometimes I think, I can’t be me because I have to be ____________________ (fill in the blank). Even in my spiritual life, my fresh is constantly in battle with my spirit as I fight against the minister I’ve been called to be and the person my flesh wants to be.

Balance. It’s critical to maintaining a happy and healthy life. We can’t be everything to everyone and leave nothing for ourselves. We can’t continue to feel bad when we want our well-deserved “me time”. We can’t continue to pour into other people in our lives and expect to never come up empty. My life is wonderful, it truly is. Vernon and the boys are a far better blessing than I could’ve ever imagined God would give me. I know I’m blessed beyond measure. Please understand- I don’t hate my life. I don’t wish I never had children or never got married. I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying that, at times, sometimes, I want the freedom of being alone. To only focus on me, to work on me, to enjoy me. At times, I desire the tranquility of being alone. I believe being a good mother and a good wife means I have to find balance in my life. I have to get away from the business of everyday life, take some time to be selfish, and be Tiffany.