An introduction, of sorts.

My youngest just turned 21. I am, officially, an empty-nester. Which sounds like a description of where I live, but turns out to be a description of how I feel.

I don't know what I am now.

For over thirty years I was a mother first. That's not a complaint — I chose it. I was good at it. There was always something to do — appointments to schedule, activities to drive them to, a form to sign, a fever to check on at 2 a.m. The days were hard but they were shaped. I knew what I was doing at any given moment, because someone needed me to be doing it.

The strange thing isn't missing them. I do, but that's the easy feeling. The strange thing is the quiet. And underneath the quiet — the slow realization that I don't actually know what I want to do with a Tuesday afternoon that isn't spoken for.

I'm not looking for a new identity. I'm fifty-something years old — I have an identity. What I'm looking for, I think, is some way to notice myself again. To catch the thoughts I've been having but not saying. To pay attention to what I want instead of what everyone else needs.

So I made a small thing.

It's a page with four prompts. Print it, fill it in by hand, put it somewhere you'll see it. That's it. It's the simplest possible version of the practice I'm trying to start for myself: a few minutes a day of what did I notice, what was harder than I let on, what did I want and not ask for, what do I want to carry into tomorrow.

I made it because I needed it. I'm putting it out in case someone else does too.

If you're someone who's ready to figure out what you are now — or ready to start by just noticing what you still are — the printable is free.

More is coming. A journal. Other things. I'll write when I have something worth saying.

— Michelle