Tatiana shared her three identities as ‘Mother’, ‘Educator’, and ‘Trailblazer’. Her story starts with pain and fear, but grows into something else entirely: she describes a long journey of reconciliation with her ‘self’, and how those roots now perhaps form a foundation of her strength. I was taken by how open and comfortable she was with sharing these stories, almost as a source of confidence.
I had expected that Tatiana would share her identity as ‘Soldier’ or ‘Head Teacher’ more centrally, but instead these things were expressed more as a context of her ‘self’. This is turning into a common theme: i have been wrong more often than i have been right when guessing which identities people will share.
Tatiana’s Identity Story
My three identities are ‘Mother’, ‘Educator’, ‘Trailblazer’. Simple words, but beneath them is a whole big story!
My mother had a nervous breakdown when i was nine years old after my father killed himself. He was a very violent man, which punctuated our lives.
A violent schizophrenic who had always threatened it would be a murder suicide. His death led me to my first experience of being a mothering figure.
I differentiate ‘mum’ from ‘mother’: my own children are central to my life, to all my decision making. But being a mothering figure came to me after my father’s suicide: my mum was only young when he died, in her twenties, with four children. There was an expectation that someone would have to help, and as the oldest, that someone was me.
Through my life i have helped many people: i am seen as an earth mother. In my latter life, as an army reservist, i am always the oldest, made the team mum. I think people gravitate towards my innate strength and pragmatism.
When i say i am ‘mum’ to my children, i mean that they are everything to me, but there is enough love in my heart to love others in a motherly way. This is my maternal persona - and i am thinking this through as i say it - all my traits sit beneath that personality.
As an Educator i model everything that i believe, in all aspects of my life. It’s taken me a very long time to bring that all together but now as an educator i am not just educating other people, but also myself. This has led me to a PhD and three Masters degrees. I am addicted to education and for me it is a place of safety and comfort. There is no fear there.
I had trust issues in my early life: my father, when i was five, taught me a game. He asked me to jump down the stairs, into his arms. This felt like a connection that had been missing, and the first few times he caught me, it felt great. But the third or fourth time, he moved, and dropped me, and it hurt. He said it had been some kind of mistake, and got me to move further up the stairs, and continue jumping. Then, once again, he moved and i fell badly, breaking my leg.
I just remember him saying that this was the best lesson he would ever teach me.
I knew that my relationships were impaired by this lack of trust in other people: i have worked hard to move beyond that, through reading, through self help. But i have not really had therapy. I have met people in my life with wisdom, people who could see that i was a bit broken at times. People who helped me to find myself.
Through this work on myself, through these people, i have been able to learn how to trust. I find that i can now articulate it. It’s not a rational thing, but a reactive one. When i have a feeling of fear, i know that it will subside.
The context of my childhood was that of a very work class background, a very depressed background, but i was fortunate in one thing - a teacher, when i was small, said ‘this girl is university material’, and i ended up at a selective school. This gave me the environment where my latent intelligence was bought out.
There was a feeling of safety.
My step father was also a brute, but i had safety at school. And in some ways, i never left: on to university, and into a teaching career, where i kept studying. I am almost still at Uni. I have always had this desire to better myself.
I educate myself and role model to others: my day job is as a teacher, but i have taught far beyond school - i’ve taught soldiers and even a Masters programme on leadership, i’ve taught in all sorts of places, from Kenya to Germany. Running right through me is that desire to educate.
I did not realise it at the time, but at 18 i had pause for thought: i had longed to join the RAF, i had done really well in the Air Cadets for years, i wanted to be a helicopter pilot, but i did not have the courage to buck the trend - i did not have a female role model, but now i try to do for others what i lacked myself.
So i could have been in the RAF, and i’m sure i would have had an amazing career - but the path i took has let me touch so many lives. People contact me all the time (it makes me feel old!) saying ‘Miss, do you remember me… you taught me…’ and now they are a teacher themselves!
This is hard for me though: it’s a by product of how i have lived, of my journey, that i am very uncomfortable when people tell me i have made a difference to them.
It’s incredible to have an impact on someone: i feel that i was born for this job - i was born to be an educator, an advocate. And now, at my school, we are known for championing the disadvantaged.
I think because i was the vulnerable kid, i look to do this, to create this space, for other people.
Another legacy of my childhood is that i have a complete obsession with exercise: as a child it was to be strong, to be so strong that nobody could hurt you. In. My 20s and 30s a by product of my drive to be strong was that i had a great physique, a great figure! And now in my forties i do not have to worry about osteoporosis, because i’ve exercised my whole life. I feel that this obsession, almost born out of fear, has left me with a strength i will carry into old age.
I am going to be healthier for longer, doing what i love.
I did not just form an obsession with exercise: i also fell in love with books, and developed a great focus. It was all to do with escaping from reality. An offshoot of that determination to be at school is that i understand education. It does not threaten me at all, and this lets me break down barriers for others.
Having those letters after my name, it gives me agency: people instantly respect the title Dr, but i was embarrassed to use it at first. In fact, i only really used it to differentiate myself from the children’s step mother, so that i was not another Mrs.
I guess i’ve always been on the periphery: i’ve never really felt that i fitted in. My husband was in the army, and i taught in the schools, alongside many of the officers wives. I would be invited to events, but then uninvited when they realised that my husband was not an officer. But i did not fit in with the other groups either. I was in a hinterland. I did not belong.
My identity as a Trailblazer is one that i have grown into - it’s a fun activity - as a woman we owe it to other women and to ourselves to show people that we are not to be overlooked. Just because our child bearing years are over, or we are no longer ‘attractive’, that’s really just superficial stuff. It’s nonsense.
So many women my age have just written themselves off.
It was not a conscious identity to begin with, but now i feel i must challenge that rhetoric - so why shouldn’t i?
Being a trailblazer really matters to me: indeed it’s of increasing importance. I have worked really hard as a head teacher, but also focussed on educating myself and studying. I have let a relationship go because i do not want to trust anyone, and that is the next bit for me to take in hand.
Perhaps that is the next part of my journey. In terms of relationships you have to admit awkward truths to yourself.
My identities fit together like a Venn diagram: there is a core that runs through everything. Love: i am capable of love, and being loved. At the heart is how you do things with compassion. My friend used to say ‘what can love do?’ - if you care for people, if you are compassionate - what would you do?
I joined the Army reservists at 45, commissioned as an officer at 47, and i’ve done that by being authentic. Telling the truth to people, whatever the context. That’s authenticity, but it’s hard because people can judge you. It took me a lot of courage to find my voice, but people need to know. They need to know that they are worthy: that they are enough.
I don’t keep my identities a secret, i don’t hide myself from anyone now. Most people would see that i carry them with integrity. Perhaps the value of me today is as a conduit for other people, for helping other people. As a society, our infrastructure of help has largely gone: so i, and others like me, are the antidote to that. We become conduits of advocacy that would not be there otherwise.
I have envied people who say ‘my dad would do anything for me’ - in my heart i feel sad that i did not have that - to be a ‘daddies girl’ - that has shaped some of my relationships. I think i have looked for someone to take care of me, but have ended up as the carer. I have attracted needy men when i do not want that. It’s cyclical patterns of behaviour.
If i feel challenged, if my identity is threatened, i can react on a very visceral level: i will literally and metaphorically push people away. I will slam doors. I will be gone from their lives. I have felt most challenged when people threaten me in some way, even in a small work context. I don’t do well with it to be honest.
My identity is something that i own: in reality i am quite an introvert. I can be all things to all people, but it is time limited. When people see me in ‘work’ mode they think i have endless energy. But i am exhausted after advocating for others.
I have never felt trapped by an identity.
Keeping body and mind together is important: i see myself in a holistic sense. It’s not just having people see me as strong - as a child i thought it was hilarious that the other children thought i was strong and scary.
I’ve had a double mastectomy: as a woman that can challenge your identity, but i was not that bothered about it. Changes in your body, post natal changes or through surgery, they all have an impact on you. Physically it’s important to be in tune with your body: this is the body that will carry me through to the last day of my life.
I am comfortable in my identity today, and my experience means i can read people like a book, which sometimes surprises them. This is me, and i am totally open about who i am.