Identity crisis

Mark with his birthday waffles and ice cream

For a few minutes, his name was Travis. You would think, after waiting three and a half years for our fifth child to join us, we could have come up with the right name for him. But when he arrived, his identity and name remained a mystery. 

It didn’t take long, though, to figure out this baby boy was not Travis at all. He was Mark. In naming all the others, I let Ken have the final say, but this time I insisted our boy take his name, “Kenneth,” at least as his middle name. After all, I’d borne the man four sons and, by gosh, one of them was going to carry his father’s first name.

Today Mark Kenneth is 14 years old and is, coincidentally, much like his father. Yet, although we've known him a decade and a half and feel certain we got the name right, we’re still figuring out who he is. 

Funny how as parents we presume to know our children well. Sure, we can often predict how they’ll behave, what they’ll laugh at, or what they'll say in given situations. But the truth is who they really are begins long before they arrive in our care, and who they’ll become depends less on our predictions and more on their choices and experiences—many of which we’ll never be a part of. Searching for identity is about both remembering and becoming.

A couple Christmases ago I made DVDs including video clips from our children's childhood years. These little snippets gave us a window through which we could look back at each child and remember who he or she was. We'd captured their identity with photographic accuracy. These movie moments were real and did, in fact, foreshadow some of what each child would become. But they were just moments. So many more moments and experiences and choices still lay in their futures. Since those early years, the majority of our children have passed through their teenage years, a time when searching for one’s identity is natural. 

People seem to have the most trouble defining themselves when they attach themselves too tightly to a few salient traits. For example, a friend who had always been known as “the smart one” struggled with a tough math class and could never quite catch on. Consequently, she went into a funk about who she was. If she wasn’t at the top of her class, did she still have value? How could she best discover other untapped qualities? 

Similarly, when the games end, sports stars and Olympians often have to reinvent themselves. Now a lawyer, a car dealership owner, or a real estate agent, these people, without receiving the public praise they once enjoyed, can struggle to feel good about their newly defined private selves. No longer on the Wheaties box, how do they define themselves in this new era of their lives? A few are able to land jobs in sports broadcasting or coaching, but most seem to struggle as they transition from extraordinary stardom to ordinary living.

Moving from superstar to everyday civilian or just switching roles of any kind can trigger an identity crisis. 

When I became a mother, for instance, I loved my new role. But as much as I loved adoring my son and being adored by him, I also missed being the more carefree me. I wondered if I had to give her up completely. Did I now have to always be a responsible grownup? I realized taking on my new maternal identity was going to be a process of becoming.

Sometimes others keep us from figuring out who we are, and parents are often the worst offenders. Just when you think you have them figured out, children do something that surprises you or defies your limiting labels. For example, the mean one does something really nice for his brother, the funny one shares deep and profound ideas, the anxious one delivers a speech without a hitch, the judgmental one forgives freely, or the bossy one graciously takes the backseat to another’s desires.

My father, a psychologist, spent his career helping people transform into their better, improved selves. He loved quoting William James, the Father of Modern Psychology, who said, “The greatest discovery of our time is that man is able to change.” Giving each other room to change and space to become better can be challenging. While knowing a person well can give us comfort, allowing them to change and even helping them discover their better selves should also please us. This can, in fact, be a great gift to them.

It’s good to be 14 years old. It’s good to have lots of life ahead. I hope Mark enjoys his birthday and every minute of this year, remembering who he is and becoming who he wants to be. And I hope I’ll have the good sense to step aside and let him change.