{"id":1069,"date":"2023-01-17T11:42:48","date_gmt":"2023-01-17T11:42:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.feelnubia.com\/?p=1069"},"modified":"2025-06-19T16:59:52","modified_gmt":"2025-06-19T16:59:52","slug":"identity-crisis","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/feelnubia.org.uk\/index.php\/2023\/village-family-relationships\/identity-crisis\/","title":{"rendered":"Domestic Diva: Identity Crisis Redefining Life as \u201cJust Mom\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"\r\n
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Should your job define you? (Photo by Theresa Ude: Pexels)<\/figcaption>\r\n<\/figure>\r\n

\u00a0<\/h3>\r\n
\r\n

The Day “Just Mom” Became My Most Powerful Title<\/h2>\r\n

We\u2019ve all been there. You meet someone new. They share their name, and almost immediately, the next question hangs in the air: \u201cSo, what do you do?\u201d It\u2019s human nature. We judge<\/b>. We assume a career equals character, that a job title is a shorthand for a person\u2019s entire worth.<\/p>\r\n

I was a master of this game\u2014and its victim.<\/p>\r\n

 <\/p>\r\n

The Golden Trap of Identity<\/h3>\r\n

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\u2014I used to pity women who were “unemployed” or, worse, \u201cjust housewives,\u201d assuming they simply couldn’t land a job. My worth, I believed, hung entirely on the next promotion.<\/p>\r\n

Then, I hit the ceiling.<\/p>\r\n

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\u2014the real, breathing, joyful present\u2014slipped through my fingers like sand. The constant hustle wasn’t buying security; it was buying exhaustion.<\/p>\r\n

 <\/p>\r\n

The Unraveling<\/h3>\r\n

Finally, I quit paid work.<\/p>\r\n

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.<\/p>\r\n

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\u2019s office one day and declared, \u201cThe gym staff irritate me!\u201d The real truth? I missed purpose<\/i>.<\/p>\r\n

Desperate for a replacement title, I enrolled in an Ivy League PhD program. For ten proud seconds, I felt validated. I\u2019m back in the game!<\/i> Then I froze. I was on a different continent, physically separated from the family I had ostensibly quit work to be with<\/i>.<\/p>\r\n

I finally saw the absurdity of it all. I quit to be home. Not to chase another, grander goal.<\/p>\r\n

 <\/p>\r\n

The Power of “Just”<\/h3>\r\n

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.”<\/p>\r\n

Speaking those words felt like a seismic shift. They were terrifying in their simplicity, yet profoundly freeing. They fit.<\/p>\r\n

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.<\/p>\r\n

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?”<\/p>\r\n

I answer: “Just Mom.”<\/p>\r\n

And I mean it.<\/p>\r\n

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\u2019ve learned, is everything.<\/p>\r\n

If you\u2019ve 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.<\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n

 <\/p>\r\n

If you liked this piece, you will enjoy the book Helpmeet<\/a><\/p>\r\n

Recommended:<\/p>\r\n

Domestic Diva<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\r\n

Ovie Farraday is a wife and mother of five (including 2 teenagers and a pre-teen) living in a sub-Saharan West African suburb.\u00a0 She is married to an Architect and entrepreneur. Ovie Farraday is a pen-name.<\/sup><\/p>\r\n

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