Domestic Diva: Identity Crisis Redefining Life as “Just Mom”

The Day “Just Mom” Became My Most Powerful Title

We’ve all been there. You meet someone new. They share their name, and almost immediately, the next question hangs in the air: “So, what do you do?” It’s human nature. We judge. We assume a career equals character, that a job title is a shorthand for a person’s entire worth.

I was a master of this game—and its victim.

 

The Golden Trap of Identity

My identity was a fortress built on job title, income, and company brand. Success was a constantly moving target, always defined by external metrics. I climbed fast, collecting perks and prestige like currency. I was relentless, pushing, always moving. I developed a subtle, often unconscious bias against those who weren’t on the corporate ladder—I used to pity women who were “unemployed” or, worse, “just housewives,” assuming they simply couldn’t land a job. My worth, I believed, hung entirely on the next promotion.

Then, I hit the ceiling.

I was a bird in a golden cage. I had the bigger house, the faster car, the access to private jets, but it was never enough. While I was frantically chasing a “secure future,” the present—the real, breathing, joyful present—slipped through my fingers like sand. The constant hustle wasn’t buying security; it was buying exhaustion.

 

The Unraveling

Finally, I quit paid work.

My identity immediately began to unravel. Suddenly, I was “unemployed,” or the dreaded “housewife,” or worse, “just mom.” The labels felt like a demotion, a stripping away of everything I thought I was.

I tried to enjoy the leisure. For three weeks, I lived like a socialite: gym, pool, cold drinks. But the purposelessness gnawed at me. I missed the hustle, the urgency, the feeling of making an impact. I barged into my husband’s office one day and declared, “The gym staff irritate me!” The real truth? I missed purpose.

Desperate for a replacement title, I enrolled in an Ivy League PhD program. For ten proud seconds, I felt validated. I’m back in the game! Then I froze. I was on a different continent, physically separated from the family I had ostensibly quit work to be with.

I finally saw the absurdity of it all. I quit to be home. Not to chase another, grander goal.

 

The Power of “Just”

Four days of silent reflection followed. Then came the tears and the apology to my husband. I spoke the words I had always feared, the title I had once dismissed: “I just want to be a mum.”

Speaking those words felt like a seismic shift. They were terrifying in their simplicity, yet profoundly freeing. They fit.

Now, I work from home, but my priority is my six wonderful souls. I am fully present. I play. I teach. I laugh. I answer the endless stream of “Why?” questions. We build blanket forts, slice socks for crafts, and build memories that no seven-figure project could ever rival. I don’t need a million-dollar deal; I shape lives.

Job offers still whisper to me, and the bank statements hold their alluring tune. But when someone asks me now, “What do you do for a living?”

I answer: “Just Mom.”

And I mean it.

Our society ties identity to a job title, but we find real purpose in love, service, and faith-filled presence. Stepping off the corporate treadmill made space for what truly matters: motherhood, faith, and impact. Sometimes, less hustle means more heart, and that, I’ve learned, is everything.

If you’ve ever felt lost, perhaps it’s time to consider letting go of the need for “more” so you can become exactly who you were meant to be.