THE DISAPPEARED WOMAN

A Post-Hands-On-Mothering Provocation By Rosalind J. Turner

The Disappeared Woman

As I approached the watershed moment of 21 years of parenting completed – one third of my life at that point – I began to lift my gaze away from the often-all-consuming role of mother, leaving behind what at times had felt like a myopic preoccupation with the dramas of my son’s life, and to look about me for other women at this point of transition.  Casting my eyes across the cultural representation of women in all their stages of life, I began to notice a glaring omission.  Where is the woman who has come to the end of her ‘hands-on’ mothering but is not yet a pensioner?  As I looked, it seemed she simply wasn’t there!  We are bombarded with images of idealised motherhood, caring for tots to teens; we might even see saccharine images of a mother tearfully dabbing her eyes whilst waving off young Jack, a car full of belongings; but then, nothing . . .

nothing, that is, until we see her either advertising menopause products, saga holidays or sitting dangling a grandchild on her knee. Where is she in between?

An absence of recognition, rites, and rituals

Reflection on my own experience as I looked out at this barren landscape, I was forcibly struck by this void.  No acknowledgement or validation, no presentation of a gold watch in recognition for services at the coalface of parenting; nothing, nothing to mark this major transition from active mothering to the next, potentially very potent period of a woman’s life.

In the southwest of England where I reside, and certainly within secular society, we have some fairly lacklustre rites of passage for young people as they turn 18 or 21, but no formal or even informal rites or rituals for the woman who has often sacrificed so much of her own life in the giving of life to another.

•       Nothing for the significant increase in domestic and administrative tasks.

•       No recognition of the social isolation that can accompany those early years.

•      Nothing for the exponential expansion of the mother’s skill base.

•       No recognition for the broadening and deepening of her emotional capacity.  

•       Nothing for the days and nights when her well is beyond empty, and yet still, she peels herself off the floor to deal with the children…

I could go on… but suffice to say, even though she may have set aside many of her own dreams and desires in service to others, (and that’s just the children), this role is often undertaken with little or no extra funding and barely any other meaningful assistance to support such an all-consuming process.  Simply cast adrift among a sea of myths, she is left to navigate the many currents, eddies, and slipstreams below the surface of the carefully crafted lies.  Perhaps left wondering, like me, whatever did happen to the ‘wages for housework’ campaigns of the 1970’s?

A grand narrative of societal conspiracy, a lack of imagination, or both?

We can of course tell ourselves that this is part of some grand narrative of familial/societal/cultural or even ecclesiastical conspiracy, keeping women well and truly tied up by their apron strings, and there is almost certainly some truth in that; however, perhaps we could also ask ourselves: to what extent are we simply being too compliant in accepting our own lack of recognition? Could we, as women and mothers, be more imaginative? Or are we so reliant on peer approval or perhaps afraid of familial censorship? Are these the drivers that keep us firmly in our respective lanes?

Pondering these and other questions, as I morphed from the ‘identity’ of active mothering of a son towards young adulthood, where, in an idealised version of transitionary phases, the men are waiting for him… whilst what was actually occurring in my own life at this next stage of my withdrawal of services was, well, very little, yet another opportunity for thresholds missed.

Where are the men?  (That’s a future piece currently in the draft stages . . . ) 

So instead, I began to prepare… to pull up the drawbridge, remove the metaphorical nipple, and make plans for my own recovery, reinvention, and transition.

Looking back, unexpectedly becoming a mother changed everything . . .    

Not for better or worse, simply radically different, quite a contrast from my singleton life!  In former times, as a creative, I might have been described, (amongst other things) as the bolter… skipping or sometimes running from one discipline to another, one incarnation of my life to the next, however, becoming a parent helped me to stay, stay in one place, stay with the process, stay with myself, and stay with my son – it’s been some journey! AND . . . that said, it was, probably not unlike many mothering journeys, a pretty mixed bag.  Much learning on the job, frequent flashes of hilarity, feelings of satisfaction, joy, love and intimacy, interspersed with hours of exhaustion, drudgery, rage and frustration. Moments of believing you’ve nailed it, and in the next breath feeling you are doing it beyond badly, so badly that you are now convinced you must be the worst mother in the world… etc.etc. ad nauseam…

Many of these experiences were not directly related to the hands-on aspects of mothering per se; they were part of the mirror that all children hold up to their parents, unwittingly revealing our habits and handicaps, our likes and dislikes, our strengths, and our challenges.  For me, it shone a bright light onto the multiple layers of admin and increased domestic duties that being a parent brought, putting into sharp focus my loathing of these things.  However, now the fundamental part is done; 21 years of mothering down, that box well and truly ticked, for good or for ill.  He is now, like the rest of us, his very own unique collection of earth and stardust, strengths, and challenges.  What he makes of it all is his to choose, if-also, like the rest of us, he can get out of his own way . . .  

What next?

For me, like many others, with economic necessity still calling the shots, (yet another WASPI Woman), unable to stop working and take a much-needed break. I had set aside much of my professional creative life to attend to that of so challenging territory of parenting the ‘terrible teens’. Continuing with some simple work to ensure I can put bacon, or tofu if that’s your poison, on the table thus no year’s sabbatical with a writing course in Tuscany or painting in the Dordogne for me.  However, as many of us learn (especially during those hands-on-mothering years), we cut our cloth accordingly, and so, alongside my work, at the close of 2020, I began, (what I foolishly imagined as a 1 year personal project), my year of the 7 R’s.  Taking the positives from the pandemic and enforced isolation of that year, I began this process:

•       Reflect (on the learning of the last 21 years);

•       Reconnect (to myself and my dreams)

•       Relearn (how to study);

•       Reconfigure (mind, body and spirit);

•       Reinvent (who am I now post-hands-on-mothering);

•       Research and develop (My next creative steps).

A radical choice

Putting myself and my wellbeing centre stage felt not only key to this post hands- on mothering recovery process, but like a radical step, flying in the face of the cultural denial that anything needs to happen at all.  With the prevailing narrative assuming we should simply dust ourselves off, take a deep breath, roll up our sleeves, and crack on, heading towards the next set of tasks with barely a backward glance!  Yes, it seems I was taking a radical step indeed, especially against a backdrop where the near idolatry of the ‘selfless’ mother runs rampant.  Thus, I began a year, or so I thought at the onset, of my reclaiming of self.  A rediscovery of who I am now, as I paused, (between the work, the resting and attempting to keep fit and healthy), and began walking towards some kind of reinvention.

Recovering my intuitive and creative self

The Covid Times offered the perfect window to recalibrate, not only, and somewhat ironically. my health, but my interdisciplinary practice, increase my commercial driving work (the perfect occupation for reflection), and dive into some further and much needed psychotherapeutic and body work.  This, coupled with an online group coaching program and several online courses, set me on the path to recovering my intuitive and creative self.   

The financial sacrifice to achieve this and discover the bounty on the other side . . .  

As an un-partnered woman on a very small income, it was challenging.  However, I felt so clear that these were the right next steps, no matter the sacrifice.  No cinema, no theatre trips, no pub visits, rarely even a bottle of vino shared with a neighbour – I put all my spare resources into this reclamation of the self.  It was hard, but it was worth it!  Asking for help, attending a range of courses, even embarking on different reading to my customary choices - all of this helped to provoke new ways of thinking, being and doing.  It has also helped to reignite some long-cherished ideals.  A process, which I am still in the midst of, 3 years on, has helped me to re-find myself.  I can hear my own voice again, and now with a more grounded and embodied quality. In essence, taking this time has been critical in recovering my confidence, giving me a renewed sense of purpose for what I foresaw, and now experience as I emerge; as a potentially rich and potent time for both me, and any woman post-hands-on-parenting who dares to take the road less travelled.

Post-parenting transitions

Walking steadily out into the world with a renewed sense of purpose, I am also stepping forward into this inquiry as part of my R&D, and my next interdisciplinary project.  What could women’s lives be like if more of us actively chose to live this chapter? Fully, on purpose, and for ourselves? Not in denial of our mothering role, but actively choosing the ‘what and how’ of our engagement with our adult children once they pass their own threshold of 21 years.  

To do this well I think we have to be prepared to dig deep.  To draw on our courage and be prepared to look around us.  To reflect on our roles as mothers and take some time to deconstruct not only our own patterning as a ‘mother’, but to consider our familial, peer and the prevailing cultural expectations thrust upon us.   For me, as a mother late to the party, my aim, when I took time to consider it, was to try to raise a child from dependence to interdependence, and hopefully be a reasonably well-rounded, functioning human.   Whilst currently the juries out on that particular outcome, as my own son now in his 20’s makes it up and muddles through . . . he is at least engaged in the stuff of life.   Making his own mistakes and finding ways to deal with the consequences, something we all have to learn to do, especially as we transition from child to adult.

Ultimately as women, if we want to live a more fulfilled life post hands-on mothering, then to do this well, I believe we have to commit, and it’s my belief that this commitment could be helped and reinforced by meaningful rituals ~ marking this transition point as a rite of passage into what could be the most creatively rewarding period of a woman’s life.

For each of us its different

I am acutely aware that as an only child with an only child and my parents long dead, for me, it was relatively straightforward to place myself centre stage.  For many it is much more complex; there could be several children in your family, maybe you are now in a blended family, perhaps one or more with special needs, which may mean there won’t be the same point of transition when they reach 21; they may even never leave home.  Then of course, there is the issue many mothers face of caring for one’s own mother and father, these responsibilities often arriving just on the cusp of our newly found freedom from mothering.  Other considerations could be that perhaps your life is embedded in tradition, and bound by religious, patriarchal, or cultural constraints or a mix of all three.  There are so many potential hazards to overcome in this reclamation of self post hands-on mothering, but surely, now that many of us are afforded the opportunity of living long into old age with relatively good health, surely now is the time, or in the words of Mary Oliver’s wonderful poem ‘The Journey’ “One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began,”   Whatever hurdles you have to overcome, I would encourage stepping into bravery, taking time for a 360-degree review, and committing to this chapter of potential potency.

My research and development, or so I thought . . . edit added Dec 24

Having crossed this bridge of my own making between active mothering and this next and new chapter of my own life, I am inviting other women to join me. 

As part of my interdisciplinary practice, I am actively engaged in these questions, developing a multifaceted project that will work with other artists and creatives in this life stage. 

This was my intention . . .

During the first phase of this, I am also launching a short exploratory series of 4 gatherings across Spring & Summer 2024. Inviting women, (birthing mothers) who are also artists and creatives to join me in this first live exploration of 'what now/what next'?

WALKING IT OUT from March 2024 with face-to-face meetings held in Bristol, and online. If you are an artist/creative and in this life stage and would like to discuss potential involvement in the multidisciplinary project . . .

Lastly, for any women in this life stage if you would like to write to me, either here in the comments section, or by email with your answers to these questions, that would be fabulous! Let’s get this conversation started . . .

•       How do we create a meaningful transition from the state of mothering the other to mothering ourselves?

•       What do we need to do put ourselves centre stage?

•       What new opportunities do you wish to embrace right now?

•      How do we draw on all that hard-won knowledge and wisdom, mined during the long hours of hands-on mothering, and direct it purposefully towards this third act? •     

•       What rituals and rites of passage could we create to meaningfully mark this time?

AND PERHAPS PENULTIMATELY…

•       What might we have to sweep aside and let go of to achieve this?

WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED ~ my body and psyche had other ideas . . .

Despite my best intentions and will to make these things happen, my body, mind and spirit had other ideas. Try as I did to move forward with these plans the metaphorical gates remained firmly shut, whilst simultaneously, like Innana’s descent to the underworld, it became clear before stepping out, there was more stripping away to be done.

Challenging and remaking my base line habits. Interrogating my borderline hoarding, (I am a born maker, and thus a collector), shifting things physically and energetically . . . aided by reading and listening, walking and weight-training, swimming and driving, and a small, select group of diverse practitioners and friends, this process is re-making me . . .