“Who Am I Now?” Finding Your Identity in a New Season of Life

Last Updated on October 6, 2026 by Stacy Averette

I didn’t go to the DMV that Monday morning expecting to have one of life’s existential questions answered, but here I am writing about it.

I was there to get my expired driver’s license renewed (oops!), and the nice man behind the window was surprisingly chatty. He asked how my day was going.

“Great so far!” I replied, and then I asked about his.

Quite cheerfully he said, “It started off poorly. I lost my keys and spilled my coffee.”

I sympathized, recalling a few days I’d had like that lately.

He reviewed the details on my license and then asked, “Are you still a homemaker?”

After an awkward pause, I smiled and said, “Yes. Yes, I’m still a homemaker.”

He snapped my photo, printed my temporary license, and I was on my way.

The interaction may not seem particularly interesting, but that simple question stayed with me.

Are you still a homemaker?

For several years, I had been wrestling with a much bigger question:

Who am I now?

When the Roles That Defined You Begin to Change

For the better part of twenty years, I identified as a full-time homemaker and stay-at-home homeschooling mom.

Then, in 2018, my last child still living at home graduated and moved on, just as my older children had done before.

Initially, I felt a huge sense of relief.

My children had launched into adulthood happily and successfully. I was happy for them and happy for me. I enjoyed the slower, quieter pace of the empty nest.

Until eventually I began wondering:

What am I supposed to do now?

Other people seemed curious too.

“What are you going to do with all that extra time?”

“You must feel lost without a house full of people!”

“I’ll bet you don’t know what to do with yourself!”

I was still a mom, but motherhood looked different. I still had a home to make, but the rhythm of our home had changed. I was a wife, a business owner and manager, a writer, a teacher, a friend, and eventually a grandmother.

Still, somewhere along the way, I began to feel as though what I was doing wasn’t enough.

Simply being a mom of young adults, a wife, an empty-nest homemaker, and the manager of our small business didn’t seem like enough.

I felt like I should be doing more with my life.

Maybe you know the feeling.

Your circumstances may look nothing like mine. Maybe your children have grown. Maybe you’ve retired or changed careers. Maybe a relationship has ended. Maybe you’ve spent years caring for other people, and suddenly they don’t need you in the same way anymore.

Or perhaps nothing dramatic has happened at all. You just have the nagging sense that a version of your life has ended, and you’re not quite sure who you are in the new one.

Who am I now?

It’s a question many of us eventually ask.

And I wonder if part of the problem is that we’ve asked our roles to answer a question they were never meant to answer.

Your Roles Are Part of Your Life, but They Aren’t Your Identity

There’s nothing wrong with identifying ourselves by the roles we fill.

I’m a wife.

I’m a mother and grandmother.

I’m a homemaker.

I’m a writer and teacher.

Those roles are meaningful to me. They tell you something about my life, the people I love, the work I do, and the responsibilities God has given me.

But none of those roles is permanent.

Children grow up. Careers change. Relationships change. Our bodies change. Our responsibilities change. Things that once consumed most of our time may eventually occupy only a small part of it.

And when we build too much of our identity around a role, its changing can leave us wondering whether we’ve lost a part of ourselves too.

But perhaps we haven’t lost ourselves at all.

Perhaps we’ve simply entered a season that requires us to distinguish between who we are and what we do.

Start With What Doesn’t Change

When I was struggling with these questions, I spent a lot of time journaling and talking to God about my purpose.

Mostly, I wanted Him to tell me what to do.

What’s next?

What’s my assignment?

What should I be accomplishing?

What am I supposed to do with my life now?

Looking back, I can see that underneath those questions was another one:

What do I need to accomplish in order for my life to matter?

That was the question I really needed God to address.

Scripture begins somewhere very different.

Before the Bible tells us everything we should accomplish, it tells us who we are in relationship with God.

We are created in His image.

We are loved by Him.

For those who are in Christ, we are forgiven and redeemed, adopted into His family, and made new.

Ephesians 2:10 says:

“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”

Notice the order.

We are His workmanship before we do the work.

Our good works matter. Our calling matters. Our gifts matter. How we spend our days matters.

But our work flows from who we are. It doesn’t create our worth.

That distinction changes the question.

Instead of frantically asking, What do I need to do so my life will matter?

We can begin asking:

Knowing who I am in Christ, how can I faithfully live the life God has given me in this season?

You Don’t Have to Earn the Right to Matter

For a long time, I was hoping God would give me some big assignment that would reassure me that I was “living up to my potential.”

I wanted to do something important.

Something that mattered.

Something that felt like “kingdom purpose,” to use a good churchy phrase.

But during that season, one of my adult children unknowingly gave me some of the wisest advice I received.

I was talking to him on the phone one day and mentioned my existential crisis.

“I’m in my 50s, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my life in this season,” I said.

He replied:

“What’s wrong with what you’re doing?”

Well.

That’ll preach.

His question helped me see how easily I had dismissed the life that was already in front of me because I was looking for something that seemed more significant.

There was nothing wrong with being a wife, mother of adult children, homemaker, business manager, writer, friend, neighbor, and whatever else God gave me to do that day.

Ordinary faithfulness matters.

But I understand something else now, too.

Being content with your life doesn’t mean you stop growing.

You can be grateful for the life you have and still feel God nudging you toward something new.

You can appreciate the season you’re in while learning a new skill.

You can rest in your worth and still set goals.

You can be faithful with today while remaining curious about tomorrow.

You can say, “Thank You, God, for this life,” and also ask, “What would You have me do with it now?”

Contentment and growth aren’t enemies.

In fact, I think healthy growth begins when we no longer need achievement to prove our worth.

Who Has God Created You to Be?

Maybe Who am I now? isn’t quite the right question.

Because at the deepest level, a new season hasn’t made you a new person.

Your circumstances have changed.

Your responsibilities may have changed.

Your opportunities may have changed.

But much of what God has been developing in you throughout your life is still there.

Your experiences.

Your gifts.

Your personality.

Your strengths.

The things you care deeply about.

The wisdom you’ve gained.

Even some of the difficult things you’ve lived through have shaped the way you see and serve others.

Instead of assuming you need to reinvent yourself every time life changes, perhaps you can become curious about the person God has been forming all along.

Ask yourself:

What is true about me that hasn’t changed with my circumstances?

What gifts, strengths, experiences, and interests has God woven into my life?

What matters deeply to me now?

What opportunities are actually in front of me in this season?

What might faithful action look like today?

You don’t need to have the next twenty years figured out.

You only need enough clarity for the next faithful step.

Live Your Actual God-Given Life

That day at the DMV, saying, “Yes, I’m still a homemaker” mattered to me.

At the time, I needed to stop apologizing for a life that didn’t sound impressive enough when someone asked, “What do you do?”

I needed to understand that making a home, loving my family, managing our business, writing words that encouraged someone, serving people around me, and doing ordinary things faithfully mattered.

I still believe that.

But I also see the question differently now.

I don’t need one title to tell me who I am.

Neither do you.

The roles you fill are important, but they are not the sum total of your identity.

So if you find yourself standing in a new season wondering, Who am I now?—don’t panic.

Start with what is already true.

Remember whose you are.

Pay attention to how God has shaped you.

Look honestly at the season you’re actually living, not the one you thought you would have.

Then ask Him to show you the next faithful step.

You don’t have to prove your worth.

You don’t have to manufacture some impressive purpose.

And you don’t have to have the rest of your life figured out.

Know who you are. Pay attention to where God has placed you. And faithfully take the next step.

Father, when our circumstances and roles change, anchor us in what is eternally true. Help us remember that our worth isn’t something we earn through achievement. Give us wisdom to recognize how You have shaped us and courage to follow where You lead. Teach us to live our actual lives with gratitude, purpose, and faithful action. In Jesus’ name, Amen.