MINDSET TRAPS OF THE EMPTY NEST - TRAP #10 – IDENTITY CRISIS: LETTING GO, FINDING PURPOSE, AND REDEFINING WHO YOU ARE AS YOUR TEENS GROW UP
Welcome back to the Mindset Traps of the Empty Nest series. This is trap number 10, the Identity Crisis, letting go, finding purpose, and redefining who you are as your teen grows up. Welcome to the Almost Empty Nest podcast with Small Jar Coach.
This show is for moms of teens who are ready to let go with love, release anxiety, and rebuild connection with their teen and themselves as they approach the empty nest. I'm your host, Jennifer Collins, a master certified coach, and a fellow mom walking this path right alongside of you. You don't have to navigate this season alone.
Welcome back to the Mindset Trap series, where we explore the patterns that keep us moms of teens stuck in anxiety, self-doubt, and disconnection. Today, we're exploring trap number 10, what happens when motherhood is no longer the center of your identity. In today's conversation, I'll share how our role as a mom is constantly changing and why that can feel so uncomfortable at times.
I'll also explore how every mindset trap we've talked about so far plays a role in how you see yourself and your identity. Finally, I'll talk about how you can start to take ownership over your identity and purpose, no matter how old your kids are or what your day-to-day responsibility as a mom looks like. This conversation isn't limited to the transition to the empty nest.
This is a deeply meaningful reminder that you always get to decide who you want to be. So let's get into it. Hello, my friend.
So it's official. I am no longer the mom of a high school student. Would you believe that my son has been going to the same school for 15 years? In truth, the school has three different divisions on the same campus, but there are a small handful of kids who started with my son when they were three years old.
Kids in the school who have been there for 10 or more years are called lifers. But my son or one of his friends came up with the term day ones for the kids who have literally been there since they were three years old on day one. It seems like a lifetime ago.
For many of these kids, all they've ever known is this school. It's been a part of their identity, being a student, being in high school. There were definitely times when I questioned whether keeping my sons in the school as lifers was the right thing to do, but seeing my son get emotional throughout different parts over the course of the graduation festivities was validation enough.
It's been meaningful to him. On top of that, there are so many teachers and people at that school who have been watching out for my sons literally since day one, so I feel an immense amount of gratitude to all of them and for his experience. But now it's over.
It's funny, the same weekend my son graduated, I had my 30th college reunion. The reunion was a three-day affair, but with my son's graduation, I wasn't even sure I'd be able to make any of it. But by Saturday afternoon, once my family cleared out, I decided I didn't want to let my college roommates down.
These beautiful women, who I don't get to see as often as I'd like, but are still so much a part of my life and heart. I wanted to make that effort. But honestly, there was a big part of me that dreaded it.
The vast majority of the people I was friends with in college I don't stay in touch with. It's so amazing to think that I spent four years of my life immersed in this world, feeling so much a part of the experience of being in that school, and now it all feels so distant. It strikes me that this is the journey my youngest is about to embark on, a journey my oldest is now halfway through.
We've all invested so much effort and energy into getting these boys into college, and I do believe it's a valuable next step for them. But in the scheme of life, it's only four years. Four years that will fly by.
And one day, you go to your college reunion and you barely recognize people who were so much a part of your life at one point. In fact, what struck me is that I barely recognized the person everyone thought I was back then. The college version of me was so different, not sure of herself, a little volatile, if I'm honest, someone who cared a lot about getting attention from guys.
Going back to that reunion, I actually had the thought, I wish I could go back to school as the person I am now, more confident, more appreciative of her relationships with other women, more focused on learning and growing. Over that graduation and reunion weekend, I felt like I was in a vortex of conflicting and transitioning identities, no longer a high school mom, not quite an empty nester, no longer that version of myself that went to college, confronted with so many different versions of myself, so many identities. I felt a little bit unsettled.
We so often define ourselves by the roles we take on. Mom, college student, high school student, wife, sister, volunteer, as if the things we do define who we are. I guess it's hard not to fall into this, especially as moms.
Our lives inevitably revolve around our kids' needs. And you would think that this responsibility would decrease as our kids get older in high school and start to drive themselves around. And not having to plan my life around my kids' activities and getting them to and from school was definitely a relief.
But even in those years later in high school, you can tend to spend a lot of time waiting to be needed, waiting to see if they'll be home for dinner, waiting to see if they need help with those college essays, making mental checklists of all the things you need to follow up with your kid about. This role has consumed us in so many wonderful ways, but also in heartbreaking and exhausting ways. One thing I learned in sending my oldest off to college is that it doesn't stop once you drop them off and hug them goodbye.
You still worry. You still feel like you're walking a tightrope between wanting to help them and knowing they need to figure it out on their own. In fact, I would say that the worry becomes even more unsettling because when your kid is off at college, you worry less about logistics.
And there are definitely still logistics to worry about. But the worry is less about those day-to-day to-do lists and more a generalized, constant worry that your kid is okay. Even when they say or act like they don't need you, you still worry.
You're still waiting on the sidelines, ready, just in case. This moment seemed like the perfect time to talk about the shifting identities of this stage of motherhood. And I don't think this conversation is at all limited to that moment when your kid leaves the nest.
As our kids become teens and reach for their independence, then even as they go out into the world, you find yourself constantly asking yourself, am I still doing enough? Am I needed here? And if I'm not needed, what do I do now? I feel like I've been learning to let go for years, almost a decade, constantly trying to learn how to find some peace and no longer being in control or in charge of everything from the boys tying their own shoes to them driving and now to them being in charge of their own health care, managing their own money, having a whole life and a whole group of friends that I know very little about. As a mom, you are constantly in the process of letting go. So what is it that we get to hold on to? For so long, we felt the purpose and validation of being a mom.
We felt like we've mattered, that our role mattered. But even under the best circumstances, when you have a strong relationship with your big kid, you can still feel completely unanchored in this gradual but constant unraveling of this identity that's meant so much to you. It's like so much of your identity has been wrapped up in being a mom.
There's this terrifying moment when you realize, I don't know who I am without this. And this question is so understandable. I find myself also looking for an answer.
But today I want to explore how this question can also be a trap, essentially because we confuse our role with our identity. We've gotten used to measuring our worth by how much we're doing for other people. And so when that need lessens, it can feel like we're not enough anymore, like we're not sure what our purpose is, like something is missing.
And it makes so much sense. We've spent decades with our hearts and souls focused on these kids, on this important, meaningful work. And even when you're excited for your big kid to launch into their next chapter, or even for them to be showing more signs of independence when they're still at home, it can still feel like there's a part of ourselves that we have to let go.
It's easy in these transitional moments to fall into doubt and self-judgment. You can start to think that there's something wrong with you, that this feels hard, that you're not handling this transition well enough, or that other moms are doing it better, navigating it with more confidence. You can also see other moms not handling it well and think, well, I don't want to be her.
And I also want to say, I don't think we're typically very honest with other women about how hard this transition is for each of us. And again, not just this moment between having a kid at home and sending them to college, but this whole stretch of raising teens and launching them into the world, even beyond college, that emptiness straddle that I talk about. This whole period is fraught with challenge, an endless emotional roller coaster.
And so often, we keep this pain to ourselves. Maybe we don't want to complain. But I think we sometimes also don't want to share the most painful parts of what we're going through because we don't want to seem as weak as we feel inside.
But the result is that this transition can feel really lonely. And so the most important thing I want you to hear today is that you are absolutely not alone. Whatever you're going through, whatever stage you're in with your growing kids, this is hard work.
So much of your identity and your purpose is tied up in doing this important work. And it's not easy. In every moment, you can find yourself asking, what do I do now? And really, who do I want to be in this moment? Think about how often this comes up.
When your kid's in middle school, it seems overnight, they stop hugging you as often. They don't want to hold your hand anymore. And in high school, they start making friends who you don't love or making choices you wish they didn't.
Then they go off to college and you're no longer waking them up for school or worrying if you have enough bananas and peanut butter at home. Then you get to the place where your adult kid is graduating from college and you're grappling with how much to support them financially as they try to make it out on their own. At my son's high school graduation, my own dad reminded me that it never stops.
This waiting in the wings, being ready to help, but also constantly letting go, continually shifting who we are and how we relate to our kids. This is all so normal. But also, as we bring this conversation back around to mindset traps, our brains do not love change.
Remember that motivational triad we've been talking about in this entire series, that our brains are always trying to avoid pain to seek pleasure and conserve energy. The bottom line is that our brains want to keep us safe. But in these moments of transition, these instincts can also keep us stuck.
Think about it, if you're a mom of a middle schooler, your brain might say, wait, what happened to the snuggles, the bedtime talks? Why are they suddenly slamming doors and asking to be left alone? That emotional distance is painful. So your brain tries to protect you by clinging even tighter, or alternatively, by you feeling like you need to pull away to protect yourself. Or when you have a kid in high school, especially one who's pulling away or taking risks, your brain fights for safety.
It sees danger, and you feel like you're losing control. And so your immediate response is that you need to step in and fix it, to take back control. These are all examples of how your brain tries to avoid pain, either your pain or your kid's pain.
Your mind instinctually wants to compel you to do something to feel better. Then when your last kid goes to college, all of a sudden you're surrounded by silence and empty spaces. It feels lonely, even scary.
So your brain seeks something, anything, to fill the empty space. Maybe that's trying to hold on even while they're away. Or maybe it's desperately trying to fill your time so that you don't have to sit with the emptiness.
Ultimately, your mind compels you to try to avoid your own discomfort. In all of these cases, the brain interprets change and emotional pain as a thread. It's so understandable that the loss of this change can bring on feelings of almost grief, because this role of motherhood was so important to us.
We felt valuable and needed. Even when we were just waiting around to be needed, we still felt like that work mattered. And whether we've meant to or not, we've anchored our identity in how much we do for our kids.
So when we're no longer doing all the things, we start to question who we even are. And this uncertainty feels unsafe, definitely not pleasurable, and not at all easy. So how do you know if you're falling into this identity trap? Because it's not always about having an existential crisis.
And it's definitely not limited to those moments when we're shipping a kid off to college. Sometimes this trap shows up in that moment when your house is quiet and you're not sure what to do with yourself. Or when you open your calendar and realize you don't have any school events to go to, no games or performances or volunteer events to attend.
Or it could happen on a Saturday night when your kid is out with their friends and you wonder what happened to all of your friends. You wonder why you didn't make any effort to make your own plans. Or it could be that moment when you sit across from your teen at dinner and you think, they have no interest in talking to me.
Sometimes this trap shows up as restlessness. You feel like you should be doing something. Something more productive, more helpful, more important.
But you can't quite figure out what it is. So you could scroll on your phone or you could clean the house trying to avoid that feeling of restlessness. Or you could dive headfirst into work or volunteering or fixing something for someone because it makes you feel useful.
Or frankly, you might just fill up time so that you don't have to sit and feel all of these mixed and uncomfortable emotions. Other times the identity trap shows up as sadness. The hurt you feel when your kid walks in the door and barely acknowledges you.
Or that pang you feel in your heart when you see baby photos of your kid and you wonder how it all went so fast. Maybe it's the guilt you feel for all the things you think you should have done in the past. That guilt you feel for not appreciating those stages of motherhood that now feel so far away.
And none of this means anything has gone wrong. These are just reflections of the emotional reality of what happens when the identity that you've carried around for so long starts to shift. We don't talk about how strange it is that one day you're the center of your kid's world and the next you're like this disconnected, cold stranger.
We don't talk about how disorienting and honestly how unfair it feels to have found a role that's so important and so meaningful to then just have it taken away. Or what about how long it's been since you've even asked yourself what it is you really want. There was a time when you couldn't go to the bathroom in peace and now it feels like all you have is empty space that you don't know what to do with.
Don't get me wrong, as moms, we're good at being busy, good at filling time with stuff. But I wonder how much of that stuff is filling you up versus just a list of activities that you've used to fill up your day so that you don't have to truly do the work of figuring out who you are. If any of this is resonating, if you feel caught between being a mom and some new version of yourself that's able to find joy and peace without relying on this role to give it to you, you might be wondering, how do I find my way out of this? How do I feel better, more confident, more at peace with being able to let go and also embrace this stage of being a mom and something new? This is where we so often just want someone to give us a step-by-step guide, a how-to manual.
It's so tempting to want to sign up for a bunch of new stuff or start looking for a new job or think about moving to a new place where you might have more opportunities to meet people, as if the answers to who you are exist out there. And it makes sense. It would be so much easier if we could just find that magical friend or that hobby or the meaningful pursuit that would just fill us up again, make us feel like our time and effort mattered again.
We're all taught to believe that happiness and fulfillment, even our identity, exists somewhere outside of us. If we could just find the right thing to do, the right way to show up, the right person to appreciate us, then we'd feel whole. But this isn't just about how we were raised or what society tells us.
It's also how our brains have been conditioned to define our identity. Because what is identity, really? It's the story we tell ourselves about who we are and whether we believe we're enough. And my friend, every single mindset trap we've explored in the series so far plays a role in shaping that story.
Let's start with validation seeking. We've spent so much of our lives being praised or appreciated for what we do. It's no wonder we start to believe, I matter because I'm needed.
So when we don't get that positive feedback or when our teen doesn't seem to care about what we do, it's easy to feel like we don't matter as much anymore. Our sense of self feels like it's built around being useful. Then there's the comparison trap.
We instinctually compare ourselves to others as a way to evaluate whether we're on track. So as moms, we look at other moms and evaluate what they have that we wish we had, whether it's patience or purpose or connection. Without realizing it, we form our identity in relation to what we see around us.
We look at one woman and we think she seems more put together than I am. I must be falling behind in some way. Or you might look at another mom and think, thank God I'm not struggling with what she's struggling with.
But in this comparison, our worth starts to feel like it's relative to other people. Now let's look at the illusion of control. For so long, we felt the power of being able to influence or manage so much about our kids' lives.
So naturally, when they struggle, we think it's our job to fix it. And when they succeed, there's a part of us that believes we caused or contributed to it, even if we wouldn't admit it out loud. We tie our identity to outcomes we can't actually control.
This continues even as our kids go out into the world and make choices we have nothing to do with. We still judge our success and our value based on those outcomes. If they're okay, I'm okay.
If they're not, I must have done something wrong. Now onto perfectionism. We don't necessarily strive for perfection, as I say time and time again.
But we're terrified of getting it wrong. We worry that if we mess up or we miss something, that it says something about who we are. And the truth is, it's never enough.
There will never be a time when there's nothing left to do or to worry about. So again, our value, our sense of success, our identity becomes defined by doing and achieving instead of just being. Now let's look at the trap of personalization.
Your teen's bad mood or your adult child's poor choice. You take it personally. There's a voice in your head saying, if they're struggling, I must have done something wrong.
All you see is your own mistakes. When your identity has been built around being the safe place, the helper, the fixer, their failure or disappointment doesn't just hurt. It becomes a threat to the story we tell ourselves about who we are.
Now catastrophizing and worst-case scenario thinking might seem like just bad habits. But also, you can't help but worry that if you really let go, everything might fall apart. Your brain doesn't mean to scare you.
It just wants to protect you. But the side effect is that you stay on high alert. You can't relax.
Because let's be honest, you believe that your vigilance is the thing holding everything together. And if you let go even just a little, it would mean you're not doing your job. So your identity can become tied to anxiety, to being the one who never stops being vigilant.
Then in my opinion, the worst one of all, the should trap. You tell yourself you should be happy. You should be more grateful.
You should have it figured out by now. You look around and you think, other moms seem to be handling this better. Why can't I? Every should is a judgment.
Another way of saying, I'm not doing this right. I'm not who I'm supposed to be. Finally, there's emotional reasoning.
You feel sad or anxious or hurt, and your brain tries to make sense of these feelings. And so it tells you, if you feel this way, something must be wrong. Instead of seeing the emotion as just a signal, just a part of your human experience, your brain makes it mean something more.
It can even become a definition of who you are. If I feel lost, I am lost. If I feel overwhelmed, I must not be capable of handling this.
My friend, all of these mindset traps aren't just patterns of thinking. They're actually the scaffolding your brain has built around who you believe you are. Each trap, validation seeking, perfectionism, personalization, each of these add another layer to your perceived identity.
It's a way for your mind to make sense of the world. You can think, I'm doing a good job if my teen is thriving, or I'm valuable when others appreciate me, or I'm safe as long as I stay vigilant. These thoughts don't just guide how you show up.
They can become the basis for your self-concept. You start to live inside the identity those traps have created. An identity built not from your values or your desires, but often from fear, from pressure and expectations.
And my friend, when your role starts to change because the way your big kid needs you inevitably changes, you're then left without the familiar feedback loops to tell you who you are and whether or not you're doing a good job. It makes sense that this is uncomfortable, but it's also an invitation. An invitation to consider that you are not your role.
You are not your productivity and you're not your child's behavior, or your ability to fix, or even your place in someone else's life. What if instead your identity is something you choose moment by moment through how you show up? What if you got to decide not based on what you're doing for everyone else, not based on how productive or helpful or appreciated you feel, but based on what matters to you, based on your values and the way you want to live your life. Yes, you are a mom, but you're also compassionate, loving, brave, resilient.
Those aren't roles, that's just who you are. And the beautiful part is those qualities don't just disappear just because the logistics of motherhood changes. What if you stopped asking the question what should I be doing and started asking who do I want to be today? Who do I want to be in this conversation with my teen? Who do I want to be on this quiet weekend afternoon? Who do I want to be when I look in the mirror? It's okay if these questions feel big.
Reclaiming your identity after years of pouring yourself into everybody else isn't a light switch. This is a process of reimagining and rebuilding. And yes, it might feel even more uncomfortable at first, because for so long your identity has been shaped by other people's needs.
But just consider that along with discomfort is freedom. The freedom to be able to lay down responsibility to fix things that you cannot fix. The freedom to not have to wait for other people to do or say what you hope they'll do just so you can decide that you're worthy and enough.
You get to decide who you are as a mom, but also as a woman, as a human, as a person with her own voice and values and dreams. Your own dreams, my friend. When's the last time you thought about those? I remember the first time this identity crisis hit me.
My boys were in late elementary school. They were off doing some cool activities and I was at home alone doing laundry. And I remember so clearly thinking, they're out there chasing their dreams and I'm here cleaning up after them.
It felt like, is this it? Is this what my life is now? And don't get me wrong, I love my kids. But there was a part of me even then that felt jealous of the interesting lives they were creating. That moment started a journey for me that I'm still on.
It led me to see how much of my own identity I'd created around my boys, but also how that was a choice I was making. And in noticing that, I recognized it was a choice I could revisit. That I got to decide who I wanted to be.
As my boys have grown up, I've realized that choosing who I want to be isn't limited to how I choose to spend my time. It's truly about who I want to be in each moment of my life. Who I want to be when my kid pushes me away, when they struggle, when they hurt, when I can't fix it.
In making these decisions around who I want to be, I've learned how to let go of the things that I don't need to hold on to anymore, but also how to hold on tighter and be more present with the things that really do matter. I've learned that I can love my boys without needing to fix them, or to make them turn out a certain way. I've learned that I can show up with love even when they're far away and not texting me back.
I've learned how to be the mom I want to be without needing everything to look perfect. And in the process, I've realized something kind of beautiful. Every version of me, I've been at every point in my life.
The mom who used to worry all the time. The one who tried so hard to do everything right. The one who at times felt like she was falling apart.
She's the one who got me here. Honestly, the version of me who two years ago sent her first son off to college, she struggled. She didn't know what to expect, and she felt the emptiness, even with her other son still at home.
And now with my baby just graduated, I still feel that bittersweet ache of saying goodbye to something so precious to me. A period of my life I can never go back to. But I'm not lost in this moment.
I know now that just because something hurts doesn't mean anything's gone wrong. I know how to let the hard parts come and go, and I trust myself in a way that I never did before. Every time I've faced a new version of this identity shift, I've had a choice.
To stay stuck, or to move forward with intention. And moving forward hasn't meant launching a business, or running a marathon, or finding myself in some movie montage kind of way. Honestly, it's looked more like being brave enough to listen to what I really want, and to believe I'm allowed to want it, and that I have what it takes to go after it.
The best part is that along the way I've never stopped being a mom. But I've also expanded my concept of who I get to be. Not just a mom, but a woman with her own dreams and goals again.
A woman not defined by things outside of herself, but truly a woman who takes ownership of her identity, who decides who she wants to be in every moment. And you know what's been incredible for me? The more I've expanded who I am, the more present I become for my boys. The less I've needed to rely on them to be who I want to be, the more I've become someone I am so proud of.
My friend, if you find yourself in a moment of questioning, how can I become that next version of myself? Whether your kids are still in middle school and high school, or if they're launched and you're looking to define yourself in your next chapter, you are not alone, and you don't have to figure it out all on your own. This is the work we do inside my coaching program, Mom 2.0. I help moms who are navigating this long emptiness straddle and looking for the confidence to step into that next version of themselves every step of the way. In this program, we explore what's keeping you stuck, whether it's old beliefs or fear of letting go, or the pressure to prove your worth through your role as a mom.
Then I teach you a proven skill set to give you the tools to build something new, an identity that you choose. This isn't about finding new hobbies or teaching you how to be a better parent, this is a process of building a stronger relationship with yourself, one where you feel confident, emotionally resilient, and connected to what really matters to you now. This work changes how you show up with your big kid, but even more importantly, it changes how you show up for you.
If this resonates, I'd love to invite you to explore Mom 2.0. My friend, no matter where you are on your parenting journey, whether you're still in the thick of raising teens or navigating the empty nest, your purpose has never existed outside of you. It's always been a decision that you get to make. And the most powerful thing that you can do now is make that next decision, to take charge of the creation of who you want to be.
You get to choose your identity and your value and your purpose. You don't have to chase it or earn it. You don't have to wait for someone else to give it to you.
Just you. You get to choose it. And you also get to believe that who you are now is already enough.
My friend, just imagine your future self, that she is looking back at the decisions you are making today, and that she is so grateful for the effort you have put in to continue to evolve and be that best version of yourself, so that she could become who she is in that future life.
And that's not because you do everything perfectly in this moment.
But it can be because you finally stopped waiting for something outside of you to give you what you really want. You can learn how to give it all to yourself. This is a decision you get to make.
Until next time, my friend.
If you enjoyed this podcast, please leave a review and check out our coaching program, Mom 2.0 at www.thesmalljar.com. You have more power than you think, my friend.
