Reclaiming Series #6 Reclaiming Our Identities

Painting by Theodora Goss

There are moments in life when we quietly stop and wonder:

Who am I now?

Not because anything has gone wrong.

But because life has changed us.

For many women, identity is not something we lose overnight. It shifts so gradually that we barely notice. We become someone's partner, mother, daughter, manager, therapist, carer.

We become indispensable to everyone else.

And somewhere along the way, our names become replaced by our roles.

The strange thing is that these roles are often chosen with love. We wanted the family and the career.

We wanted the relationships and we wanted to care.

And yet, even the most beautiful choices ask something of us.

Throughout this series, I have been writing about reclaiming.

Reclaiming our joy.

Reclaiming our bodies.

Reclaiming our minds.

Reclaiming our time.

Reclaiming our voices.

But underneath all of those sits a quieter question.

Who are we when we are not busy holding everything together?

The Selkie

A few years ago I wrote a short story inspired by the Scottish folklore of the Selkie.

The Selkie is a seal woman who comes ashore, removes her seal skin and lives as a human. But if her skin is hidden from her, she cannot return to the sea. Although she may not fully remember the life she left behind, she carries a deep longing for something she cannot quite name. The story stayed with me because I think many women recognise that feeling. Not because marriage or motherhood steal our identities. Not because caring is somehow wrong.

But because love asks us to give - and women are extraordinarily good at giving.

Sometimes we give so completely that we forget to ask what is left for ourselves.

In my story, the woman adores her children. She and her partner fought long and hard to become parents. Their daughters become the centre of their universe, and willingly, lovingly, she pours herself into them. She carries their emotions, absorbs their disappointments and quietly places her own needs to one side. Years pass, and one day the house becomes quiet. The children have grown into capable, independent young women. The purpose that once filled every corner of the home has changed. And she is left asking the question so many women eventually ask:

Who is She now?

I do not think this question belongs only to mothers.

I have seen it after divorce.

After bereavement, retirement, illness, finishing a PhD, after years of building careers and when the children leave home.

.

Identity is not static.

It evolves throughout our lives.

Perhaps the difficulty is that women are often encouraged to evolve around everyone else.

Becoming Ourselves Again

One of the greatest myths is that reclaiming our identity means returning to who we once were.

I am not convinced that is possible and nor do I think it is the goal.

I do not want to be the twenty-year-old version of myself.

She was wonderful. But she was also frightened, uncertain and still becoming.

Instead, I wonder whether reclaiming our identities is about integrating every version of ourselves.

The curious young woman.

The grieving woman.

The ambitious woman.

The exhausted woman.

The playful woman.

The mother.

The professional.

The partner.

The woman who lost herself.

The woman who found herself again.

Perhaps reclaiming is less about going backwards and more about gathering ourselves together.

Not becoming someone new. But becoming more wholly ourselves.

Finding Our Seal Skin

At the end of the Selkie story, her partner buys her a beautiful coat in blues, sandy browns and sea colours. It is not the old seal skin she lost. It is something new. Something chosen with love. Wrapped in that safety, she slowly begins to create again. To dance to the rhythm of her own thoughts. She does not leave her family behind. Instead, she discovers there is finally enough security for her to be both herself and part of those she loves.

I think that is what reclaiming looks like.

Not escaping our lives.

Not abandoning the people we love.

But remembering that we belong in our own lives too.

A Gentle Reminder

You are more than the roles you fulfil.

More than your productivity.

More than your caregiving.

More than what you do for everyone else.

There is a part of you that has always existed beneath all of those things.

Perhaps she has simply been waiting for you to remember her.

Questions to Sit With

If your roles were gently placed to one side for a moment...

Who is the woman underneath?

And what might she like to do next?