Mourning My Old Self

A reflection on identity shifts, waning passion, mothering, and finding new purpose.

August 2018

I used to have clearcut purpose and ironclad passion. What was once a winding path leading me to the biggest and bestest things, is now a plateau of sorts. An open field. It’s quiet most of the time, the wind blows here and there, and the sun shines on the wavering grass. But there aren’t any mountains around. No thrilling hiking trails that I’m eager to step foot on.

It’s not that I don’t have purpose or passion nowadays, it’s just quieter. It’s different.

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I’ve been a YouTuber and content creator for over 10 years. My career peaked between 2018-2021 or so. That’s when I felt most successful, and could actually quantify that success in the numbers I generated. I was uploading consistently every week on every platform—YouTube, Instagram, Facebook, my blog and my weekly newsletter, plus courses I launched. I was living downtown Toronto, feeling ultra-entrepreneurial as I’d hop out the door of our apartment to grab ingredients for a new paleo recipe I was testing, or sip almond milk matcha lattes at cute coffee shops while I edited videos or responded to emails, or run to the bank to deposit a sweet cheque from a brand deal.

What happened in my story next involved two totally different things, yet both entirely capable of contorting my life and my identity as I once knew it. My intense passion for wellness—the cornerstone of my identity and online content—started to shift and evolve. And then I had a baby.

Who even am I?

Nutrition is an interest of mine. I value making healthy choices and I still like to share certain aspects of it. But I’m not obsessed with it like I used to be. I don’t feel this deep-in-my-soul need to shout it from the rooftops. A more cautious and skeptical version of myself bloomed as I began questioning the tropes within wellness culture several years ago. This left me with a whole lot of what the hell do I believe in? And what do I even care about anymore? A proper identity crisis, if you will. I did not know who I was anymore.

Balance isn’t sexy, folks. Nuance isn’t attractive. An ordinary life isn’t as alluring. Yet those things are the bread and butter of my belief system now, in health and in life.

As I was grappling with these shifts in my belief system, I also had a baby. Probably one of the biggest life changes you’ll ever go through is that of matrescence (a term used to describe the transition into motherhood, involving the physical, mental, emotional, and social changes).

My day to day has changed dramatically since I became a mom almost three years ago. It’s funny how easy I thought I’d be able to juggle working and staying home with a kid. I always wanted to be able to do both, and having the career I have as a content creator meant that I could seamlessly carry out those two responsibilities, right? Nope. I didn’t realize until I actually became a mom just how all-consuming it is. Not only with your time (though this is a gigantic one), but also your energy (also huge), your priorities, and the decisions you make all adjust to include this new small person.

I’ve had a hard time juggling my time raising my daughter while trying to keep up with social media, which really translated into me scaling back almost every facet of my business a little over a year ago after I realized I simply could not do it all. I cancelled my newsletter, stopped using Facebook, stopped selling my digital courses, cut back my time spent on Instagram or posting to my blog and can only manage to get a video up on YouTube every few weeks sometimes.

I don’t regret slowing things down one bit, I know I will always look back at the early years with my daughter and be infinitely glad that I put my attention into her. But I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some sort of struggle I’ve felt of trying to find the perfect equilibrium. It was liberating (and so mentally and emotionally needed) for me to scale things back last year, but eventually I slowed down a little too much and began to miss the fiery drive of my twenty-something self. I got restless. I want to work. I want to do things outside of parenting. It’s a give and take of the mid-thirties me: a mom with interests and career goals, but it’s muddy, and I’m unsure, and I’m still figuring things out, and I can only do so much.

What I miss the most

What even is it that I miss the most about my old self? I don’t miss my fear of gluten or dairy or sugar. I don’t miss my naïveté about how things work in this world, although in some strange way I do miss how sure I was despite that. The feeling of thinking I knew everything, when in reality, I knew so little.

I miss the feeling of being part of a movement. A special sort of community where you light up when you meet someone who also bakes with almond flour or who also wants an unmedicated birth or who also loves detoxing with blue-green algae. I miss the passion and I miss the sense of purpose all of it gave me.

A few weeks ago I overheard two women chatting with each other when I was at the library with my daughter. “Oat milk is so high in sugar,” one woman said. “And soy is so bad for you,” said the other. I felt both triggered and intrigued. I was them once. Scrutinizing every detail of every food. But the amount of energy that I have for those kinds of conversations is so low nowadays.

There are days when I miss how carefree my life was pre-baby, too. Motherhood has a way of stretching your heart in both directions. I absolutely miss the freedom I had before, but I wouldn’t want to actually revert back to that life. This life—even with the chaos and the exhaustion—has given me a fresh set of eyes and experiences that have cracked me wide open. And that feels like home in a way nothing else ever did.

A venture into the unknown, so to speak.

I don’t have fiery passion anymore, and I don’t know if I ever will. At least not to the degree that my old self did. I mean who knows, maybe it’ll resurface someday. But I’ve changed. A new version of myself has been downloaded and installed. It feels both grounding and wholesome, yet at times still a little confusing.

When it comes to content, I can find myself scratching my head over what to post, what to say, what people care to hear about, and wondering what niche or group I fall into altogether. The combination of my interests shifting and not posting as consistently as I once did has made me feel a little lost. It feels freeing to not overthink it, though, and share what feels relevant and true to me in the moment.

I have things I yearn to do and there certainly are many things I care about. I have sparkly little goals that float around my mind but they have yet to bloom into anything meaningful. My daughter starts preschool this fall which will open up more time for me to regain my footing work-wise, in whichever ways I see most fit. I don’t yet know exactly what will come of it, but I look forward to finding out.

Have you ever experienced a major shift in your identity? How did that process look and feel?

xo Meghan