Your journal prompts this week:
Where in my life, past or present, did I make a compromise that prevented me from being my true self and/or prevented me from fully exploring my passions
Where and when in life do I feel I am okay with making a compromise or a sacrifice?
What boundaries can I set to prevent myself from compromising in areas where I am not truly willing to compromise
What could I start doing today that would allow me to either explore or share who I really am, without compromise?
I’ve been quiet for some time with this podcast. It wasn’t something I intended to do, but it is what I needed to do as I process a big shift that is happening in my life. Sometime in June, I will welcome my second child, and I will become a mother of two children under the age of two.
I am currently in the third trimester, and I’ve spent the last several months navigating the ups and downs of pregnancy while also chasing after my toddler. I’ve been trying to work and create as much as I can during this time, but my energy levels have dipped significantly. It has been very hard to keep up with clients and with weekly writing and podcast commitments. I’ve given myself the grace to let go of any need or pressure for consistency with my own writing and projects, and instead I try to fully embrace the moments when I can do these things. But I’ve known for some time now that things need to change. And the biggest change I’m making is closing down my 1:1 service-based, freelance business.
After the birth of my first child, I admittedly tried very hard to hold onto who I was and what I was doing before I became a parent. I think I felt I had something to prove to everyone—that a mom could still do it all. I felt people expected it of me. And even though some difficult feelings around my business had been brewing well before I had my baby, I felt I needed to keep trying in order to keep bringing in money. But without having childcare, keeping up was absolutely exhausting.
Once my baby girl grew into a toddler, and she began to take fewer naps per day, the daily time I got to myself dwindled significantly. I found myself resenting that I had to do client work in those few windows of time I got. Staying up late to do that work grew harder and harder to pull off with my toddler’s frequent night wakings (though fortunately that was temporary). Now with a second child on the way, I know time for myself will become even more rare and precious. If I’m being 100% honest with myself, I want those brief windows of time to myself to be 100% mine, and not a mad dash to finish something for someone else, even if I happen to like the person and the work.
As I wind things down in my business, one thing has become very clear: My identity has been completely wrapped up in what I do for a living. It’s also been my measurement for how well I’m doing in life.
I find myself bouncing between two questions:
My first question: How did I get here?
I created a freelance business for myself with the intention of it bringing more freedom and joy, with the intention of it being good for me when I did start a family. But more often than not, my business felt restrictive—even before I had a baby. Over time, I came to enjoy it less and less, though of course with some exceptions. But I see the truth now, which is that I created a business I don’t even particularly like, and that I never felt truly good about or settled in.
My second question: Who am I without this?
And yet, this business I created and the scope of the work I’ve done within it is all I know. I went from working for others in a more standard 9-5 setting to pretty much doing the same work as a freelancer 24-7. Doing this work is a part of my identity. I know of nothing else. And it’s work for which I received praise and encouragement, making me feel as if this is the one place where I could be of service to the world.
And so, over the last few months, I’ve been confronting the question of who I am, and who I will become, as I let this business go and step more fully into the role of mother.
Letting go of my freelance business feels like the right decision, and yet, a younger version of myself still lurks around, reminding me that I said I’d never let go of my career for parenthood. I remember in college, when my mind was so set on becoming a journalist, a sorority sister said to me, “I think you’re meant to become a mom, stay at home, and just write books.” I was offended by this statement. Just be a mom and try to write some books on the side? That’s not what I went to this fancy expensive school for!
But today? Some version or variation of this sounds like a relief.
What that younger version of myself didn’t consider is the possibility that she wouldn’t even like the career she was working so meticulously toward. Or perhaps she didn’t even think it mattered whether she liked her career, just so long as she was “successful.” And I’m not saying the career I ended up building was a complete dud—I learned a lot and meant a lot of wonderful people. I did work on projects I loved, and I think much of it I needed to experience on some level for my own personal growth. But a lot of that work came at the expense of exploring and honoring my own creativity and projects, and perhaps at the expense of being who I really am.
When I was told as early as middle school that a career as a working writer and creative was not likely to be successful or practical, I began searching for an alternate but potentially harmonious path. How could I still leverage my skills as a writer and creative and make enough money to fuel my true passions on the side?
My first instinct was to become a journalist. And once I found out how soul-crushing that industry was, I went to Corporate America, figuring at least they’d pay me well there. Then I realized a career in Corporate America might not be worth that extra money, so I took a significant pay cut and went to work for an association that was more aligned with my values. Then I realized maybe working for other people in a traditional environment was my problem, so I became a freelancer who served other solopreneurs, fueling my creativity into other’s projects.
And that whole plan I had of working on my own stuff on the side? While I certainly tried, I always ended up frustrated, feeling like I never had enough time to really give my passions the focus they needed, and so my projects would stall out and never go anywhere.
Sometimes I wonder if I had been stronger or more disciplined if the side hustle route would have worked out. Now that I’m a parent, I look back and laugh at that version of my pre-child myself who always said she didn’t have enough time to do what she wanted. “Honey, you had so much more free time available to you than you ever even realized! What I would do with that time now!” But my problem back then was that I always gave all of my jobs 100% of my time and effort, again because I felt I had something to prove, and I wanted the praise to keep coming. When I even so much as tried to do less than that 100%, it was immediately noticed. People were too used to me giving so much. Any boundaries I attempted to set would be quickly abandoned, and out of guilt, I would throw myself back into the job to prove I was still committed.
I was introduced recently to another writer and amazing soul on Substack,
, and we started talking about this journey to discover and understand who we really are. Laura brought up an interesting point about how we often build things in our lives based on compromise, and it dawned on me:My entire career was built on compromise. To keep writing and creativity in my life in some way, I channeled that energy into these more acceptable and practical jobs—and into other people’s businesses and dreams. This was my greatest compromise as a writer (and not an uncommon one for all writers), and I unfortunately completely lost myself in it.
Who would I have been without that compromise? And who am I now, when I take this away and say, “I’ve had enough”? Do I even have a career, or am I burning it all to the ground?
I’m not sure this is a question I can even answer right now. I might not be able to answer it until after I officially become a mom of two, until I let all of this play out.
There’s still a lot of fear and self-doubt hanging around me. I think about all the lost time, energy, and money that went into building this career that was (more or less) working on paper. I think about how I’ll become largely irrelevant now to most of the people I worked with, who all naturally felt connected to me because I could do something for them.
Once upon a time, I valued feeling so needed by others . . . but as a parent now, the last thing I want is more people needing something from me (especially on a deadline).
So what do I know right now?
That I want to be a present and loving mother to my girls. That I want to spend as much time with them in these young years as I can, without my attention being constantly divided.
I know that I want to be creative. I know that when I do get those slivers of time just for me, I want to focus on my own creations. I want my creations to help others in a much deeper way, beyond what tasks I can complete for them. I want to focus on storytelling, spirituality, and mysticism.
Changes are coming. Some of them I’ll like, some of them I won’t. Some of the ways I respond to these changes will work, others won’t. Sometimes I’ll appear to those on the outside to be aimless and directionless and inconsistent. Sometimes I’ll disappoint people because I’ve changed. But I trust that all of this is leading me somewhere.
I will keep going in whatever way I feel called, in whatever direction most inspires me, going at whatever pace my body, mind, and soul require. I will allow myself to fully embrace and enjoy being a mother to young children while also being my most creative self.
And this is the best thing I can do for myself right now. For this, I will not compromise.
What is the greatest compromise you’ve made? How you ever lost a part of yourself in a compromise? Feel free to share your thoughts and insights in the comments on Substack.
With much love and gratitude,
Marcy
Lost in compromise