When I was desperately trying to find paying and/or volunteer work so as to not have to be at home with my child, it had less to do with getting away from him and so much more to do with getting away from the person I was terrified of being. I have always sold myself as a mother who runs screaming from motherhood … and that is exactly who I am. I don’t think I ran away from my baby, I believe I ran away from myself as the person having the baby.

I have identified myself by so many different things in the past. I am and have been a runner, a sister, a photographer, a consultant, an adventurer, an employee, a bulimic, a daughter, a swimmer, a friend, a hiker, a traveller, a shoe lover, a writer, a volunteer, an executive, a drinker, a scholar, a BMX rider, a failure, a girlfriend, a mess, a wife, a party girl, a poet, an employer, a shopper, a patient, an explorer, a lover, a thinker, a designer, a squash player, a rebel, a teacher, a critic, a pragmatist, a success.

So many things and so many changes … yet it was just the one label – mother – that totally flawed me. As I change yet again, I am reminded that I have to accept the role I am in and not necessarily define myself by it.