When did Motherhood Become an Audition?
Entering the “momming” world (or other areas of adulthood) is eerily similar to starting High School. It’s a modern-day audition for the next stage of our lives. As awkward adolescents, we walk into the unfamiliar halls of our new High School and likely aim to accomplish one of two things: remain invisible (float through the halls unnoticed and fly under the radar), OR gain popularity (enter the spotlight and receive attention for all the right reasons, from all the right people). I relived this audition two years ago when Madilyn entered High School. Like me at that awkward and awful age, she desperately wanted to stay invisible. Everything was a potential embarrassment: music playing too loudly from my car at drop-off (as if the other kids didn’t listen to music while driving with their parents), her sister exiting the vehicle to move from the back seat to the front while fellow students “noticed” from a distance (because none of them have siblings who use their legs to get in and out of a car), or my husband being “too chipper” and “talkative” with other parents. Apparently, my quiet, often misjudged as bitchy, personality is preferred to teens who want to remain invisible. Any mundane scenario that would potentially draw attention to Madilyn was simply unbearable and “embarrassing.”
As adults, it is easy to look back at our high school days, laugh at silly mistakes we made, and cringe at what we’d like to erase from our memories. We all sought acceptance and approval. Our 25-year-old self would likely tell our 15-year-old self that high school will be just fine. We might advise our younger selves on ways to be better or forewarn our immature selves of situations to avoid. We would want our 15-year-old self to be as evolved as our 25-year-old self and would discourage seeking approval from others. However, our 25-year-old self was likely doing the same thing in adulthood; things just felt more evolved because they took place in an office or at a park with fellow “mom friends.”
The world of motherhood (playgroups, PTA moms, neighborhood clicks, etc.) can feel like a grown-up version of adolescence. We audition in front of one another during playgroups, park classes, and any time our children start a new school or sports team. Only this time, our parents aren’t the ones who can potentially embarrass us… it’s our own offspring…or worse, our spouse. Much like my 25- year old self, who rolled her eyes at the ridiculous charade my teenage self once participated in for years…my 41-year-old self is currently screaming at my 25 and 35-year-old self for spending over a decade sacrificing authenticity for belonging.
Perhaps this revelation is part of the aging process. Self-reflection and personal evolution have made it easier to recognize when a situation feels like an audition. It becomes increasingly easier to say “F- it” when we are more comfortable with who we are and what we believe. We also become tired of the bullshit and excuses we make for other people. It becomes easier to say no to others and yes to ourselves.
My personal work has made me question the natural audition process that occurs when we have children. It has made me question my choices and pushed me to identify the triggers within myself that make me feel as if I must try out for a part I already have. After all, those who care to be cast alongside me will love me for the hot mess I am! Those who judge me for my parenting, marriage, religion, passions, eating habits and workout schedules, or anything else under the category: none of your goddamn business should ever receive a role in my life’s story.
I know that’s easier said than done. It took me 17 years of motherhood, almost 19 years of marriage, and 40+ years on this earth to stop auditioning for a role I never needed. I turned 40 amid a pandemic, so time for reflection was plentiful. I became angry with myself because I did not speak up when my feelings were hurt or when my child was the talking point for the gossip moms. I became frustrated with the time I invested in organizations that did not fully align with my belief systems. I questioned friendships that no longer seemed reciprocal and decided to stop apologizing or justifying my family’s choices.
Andrew and I were hiking the weekend before my 40th birthday. Our peaceful Sunday hike turned into a 60-minute meltdown regarding my fear of turning 40. I insisted that I could no longer tolerate bullshit from those around me. I told him I was done with the auditions, done making excuses for people, and done hiding our imperfections. I wasn’t sure how to get to a place where I lived freely, but I knew it was essential to try.
I started off my 40th year on a mission for self-exploration. I intended to spend this year focusing on how to free myself of the audition cycle and own this next decade of my life. Andrew and I attended a fantastic nature retreat that served as a much-needed reset and kickstart to my process. Then, I came home, and reality hijacked my plan. Sydney’s depression and anxiety began spiraling. It seemed as if each day brought a new challenge, which made me feel isolated and trapped…not free and peaceful. Madilyn was experiencing insecurities and emotional difficulties that come from the dysfunctional world of competitive sports. I didn’t know how to be there for her, and I often got it wrong. Andrew’s company got its ass kicked at the beginning of Covid by clients who filed bankruptcy and could no longer pay their bills…including their advertising bills. He was rebuilding, refocusing, and determined to stay strong for his employees and us. There was so much shit circling around my little world that it felt impossible to break free of the roles I no longer wanted.
The year went on, and I noticed one small but oh-so-big thing: I began to recognize each time I did something inauthentic or participated in audition-like behavior. I noted it, thought about it, and then reveled in self-pity for not being better. The shitty feelings began to subside once I was aware of when and how I audition. Sometimes these moments of clarity came after the worst of Sydney’s episodes. Other times they came from podcasts and books I was determined to read. The most significant shift came from vulnerability. I noticed an undeniable change when Sydney entered her first treatment center. I allowed myself to be open and vulnerable with a few people. These people saw me, my child, and our struggles, and they loved us anyway.
I have never felt seen in that way before. It felt like I was standing naked in a room with all of my shortcomings tattooed on my skin. Rather than judging or rushing to cover up the indecency of such imperfections, these friends and family members sat with me in my discomfort and let me be free. This feeling of belonging came from a willingness to be authentic. I was searching for something external to give me peace and freedom when the thing I needed most was permission to be myself and be honest about who I am and how I feel. This permission was only mine to give, and it was buried within the bullshit of each role I attempted to play.
The audition isn’t ending because I resent who I was when I played the role of a woman who valued belonging over authenticity. The audition is over because once you are seen for all that is raw and real, you never want to go back to being unseen.