Living in New York City, which can be duly considered the “ground zero” of our current recession, it seems impossible to stand clear of the giant economic chisel from on high that is chipping away indiscriminately at so many jobs, careers and sense of stability. My friends have been impacted. Suffice it to say my immediate family has now been directly impacted. The rest of us in all but the most recession-proof of occupations are left to simply buckle down harder and hold our breaths.

(Not your typical bright-sided opening from me, I realize).

But putting aside the most obvious and paramount of issues that these job losses– or threats of job losses– entail, our current state has made me consider anew just how much the “Executive” part of being an “Executive Mom” (or, Dad) contributes to our sense of self-definition. I’ve known from earliest Executive Moms research that the majority of us work out of some combination of necessity and desire, rarely just one or the other, an intertwined set. If you are among this majority that dwell in such a codependent relationship with work– need from it and want for it– do you look different in the mirror to yourself when that relationship suddenly (and against your own choosing) changes?

Or is it simply that many of us thrive best with purpose and even routine, and it is that most basic loss of knowing where you are going after you get dressed in the morning (and why you got dressed in the morning) that is so disorienting. This thought takes me back to one of the early Executive Moms events, when a member of the audience talked of her loneliness each morning at school drop-off, as she felt all the stay-at-home moms eyeing her from a distance. As she told it, she assumed they were judging her unfavorably for being office-bound, until one day one of these mothers approached her and shared with a smile their envy for how well-dressed in her great suits she always looked to them. I thought then it was a great and important anecdote to combat the silliness of the so-called “Mommy Wars.” But now what strikes me in the story is the symbolism, to all involved, in the “dressed up and on the way” part.

Maybe that sounds superficial. Perhaps there are voices (especially in the Momosphere) who would rail against anyone, but particularly a mother, preoccupied with deriving so much self-definition from the part of ourselves that exists outside of our families.

But we are who we are in all the facets of our lives by all the things that drive us, all of our needs, and all of our needs… to be needed.

If there is any redeeming aspect to being where we are today, it is that from this different kind of “ground zero” there seems again an emerging sense of solidarity and shared purpose, help and support to get through and rise above, so after the final chisel cuts are wielded we can all find new steady ground underneath us… and within us.