Tag Archives: truth

Saying Goodbye

11 Jun

It used to happen every year.  We would gather on the sidewalk and wave as the children began their last bus ride home for the year.  Then we would meander to our classrooms, all looking a little bit lost, gathering up loose papers and little bits of broken pencils left under the coat hooks.  Thank goodness for our school counselor’s yearly ritual of singing “schooooool’s out for summer” over the loud speaker.  It was just the bit of levity I think we all needed to help us navigate that awkward place between joy and sorrow, relief and nostalgia.

As an elementary teacher, you spend 9 months entrenched in the academic and social lives of your students.  You struggle together.  You succeed together.  You form a bond that will never again exist.  When you really think about it, the exact combination of students and teachers will never share the same room again.  And no matter how welcome that fact might make the impending break, there’s a sadness about it, too.

I’ve been out of the public school classroom for 5 school years, now.  From my living room window, I’ve watched the first bus of the year pick up excited students carrying brand new backpacks and I’ve watched the last bus of the year bring home jubilant children.  And because I get to use my teaching chops workshopping piano solos and providing academic tutoring to private students, I haven’t found myself missing the classroom.  It’s the best of both worlds, staying at home and teaching.

And then this year, as my tutoring student handed me a thank you card, I fought back tears as I tried to find the words to tell him how proud I was of all his work; of how much I enjoyed working with him.  I was instantly transported back to those afternoons, standing in the center of an empty classroom, hoping the students I just sent into their summer knew how loved they were.

I realize now that I want more of that.  I don’t think I’ll find myself back in the public school classroom again.  But I’d like to take my academic tutoring from an occasional favor for friends of friends into something more.  Now I just have to figure out what.

Tags: , , , ,

So You Think I Shouldn’t Have Had Children

18 Mar

I’m an optimist.  Optimistic about situations but mostly about people.  I believe people are good.  I believe we are are more alike than different.  And I believe in the power of communication and connection.

So when I saw this tweet from Anderson Cooper’s @andersonlive two weeks ago, I hoped for the best.

ALParenting Tweet

The tweet was intended to foster controversy, but surely the general public doesn’t believe that moms are taking medications because it is “trendy.”  My twitter tribe took to their computers and responded in force.

Screen Shot 2013-03-17 at 5.26.47 PM Andrea Tweet

And then just when I was beginning to think that people would understand that mothers are treating their illnesses, I made the mistake of visiting the comments on the Anderson Live FaceBook page.

FaceBook Screenshots Screen Shot 2013-03-17 at 5.34.38 PM Screen Shot 2013-03-17 at 5.34.14 PM

The PPD Blogger community responded in force there, too, with thousands of words about stigma, motherhood, and mental health.  And there *were* comments that reasonably placed the responsibility to determine who genuinely needs medication on the shoulders of the medical community.  But I was shocked at the large percentage of folks who believe that people suffering from mental illness just shouldn’t have children.

These folks believe that mental illness is a character flaw and possibly a death sentence – they believe that because I take medication for anxiety, I shouldn’t have had children.  Because I am an optimist, I choose to think they are just uneducated, products of a culture awash in stigma and misinformation.  I hope that with exposure to education and to individuals who thrive (yes, even as parents) despite their diagnosis of “mentally ill,” they might change their minds.

But if not – if they still believe that the mentally ill shouldn’t procreate because of a perceived burden on unborn children and society in general, let me ask this:

If an ideal life is the criteria on which a person’s right to reproduce is to be based, who among us would ever have children?

Would these same dissenters tell a paraplegic to refrain from starting a family because of the difficulties the children may encounter being raised by a parent with some special needs?  Should my diabetic friend and advocate Melissa have not had children because her disease puts her at risk of disorienting low blood sugars?  What about a parent suffering from a genetic disorder that may be passed onto their child?  

I am just like any other person treating a medical condition. Make no mistake.  Though they are invisible, my anxiety, PPD, and PPOCD are (or were) medical conditions.   20% of the US population suffers from mental illness, with the average age for onset of symptoms being 30.  That’s one in five.  Your neighbors.  Your sisters and brothers.  Your friends.  And quite possibly your parents.

If you are a mother with a mood or anxiety disorder, I want you to hear that those trolls above?  They are wrong.  I know you.  I know how hard you work to keep yourself healthy and happy.  I know that despite your mood swings, you are a loving parent who lights up your child’s life.  And though you may need the assistance of medication and therapy to combat your anxiety, you bring to their world your talents, your strengths, and there is no better parent for them.

Don’t let the ignorance of a few Facebook comments cloak you in shame.  We are all flawed.  It’s what makes us beautiful and real.  As people and as parents.

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

On Fakebook and Keepin’ It Real

28 Feb

A Mama’s Comfort Camp member shared this link to a post about how fake everyone is on FaceBook and I found myself both nodding my head and laughing as I read about the author’s chaotic and familiar Saturday.  Then I started wondering if I’m guilty of FakeBooking (thanks to @ErinMargolin of @gaydadproject for the perfect word for it).  After all, in my header photo, everyone looks happy and the background is picturesque (never mind that it still says “Happy Holidays”).

FB Header

And in my new profile picture, I have makeup on and my hair curled.  Both of these things are rare and not at all representative of my everyday life.  This is more like it:

Keepin' it real.

And yet I don’t really want this as my profile pic.  So does that mean I’m faking it?

Hmmmm…  I tend to share the bad along with the good – pictures of my dishes in the sink and trashed house.  Status updates about teething and the crummy weather.  Posts about mental illness.  I like to think I’m pretty honest about what my life is like.

I’m truly not trying to impress anyone.  Photos capturing beautiful moments and positive updates?  Are just me trying to be grateful for the bits of happiness and tranquility that punctuate the chaos of life with two small children.  My Pintrest boards?  Wishful thinking.  And any bit of cohesive writing is pieced together in stolen moments between snacktime and diaper changes.

So let’s give everyone the benefit of the doubt.  Let’s celebrate the beautiful pictures and let our friends enjoy their moments of beauty and success.  Let’s assume that they aren’t always as put together as they are in their profile pictures and be glad they’re not sharing photos of themselves sleep deprived with a giant chin zit (which they cleverly hide behind a coffee cup).  But let’s also make them feel comfortable to keep it real.   After all, if social media is going to be how we keep in touch in these digital days, let’s make it count.

Tags: , , ,

Lost For Words

6 Jan

We were trapped in the car when the questions started.

Hey, Mommy?

If somebody dies in their house, and the mailman brings them their mail but they’re dead, how does the mailman get them their mail?

Um, what?!

The mailman would come to their door but they’d be dead.

Um….

So what would happen to the mail?

I think the mail would pile up and the mailman would eventually take it back to the post office.

Then new people would live the in house?

Yes, then new people would get their mail delivered to the house.

What about if all the mommies and daddies were dead and there were no more mommies or daddies.  Who would make more mommies?  Would robots make more mommies and daddies?

Um, Daddy?  Want to take this one?

No1 asks deep, serious questions, and we’re committed to answering her as honestly as possible.  But sometimes, her left-field questions just make us giggle and we stumble over our words, searching for what to say.  These moments are my favorite with my four-year-old.  Her innocence, her curiosity, her direct nature.  I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

What’s the strangest, funniest, or most awkward question your child has asked you?

Tags: , , , ,

I Don’t Gladly Give It Up

4 Jan

There was an “inspirational” Facebook status roaming around a few months back that read something like this:

“I used to wear mascara and do my hair.  I used to spend hours on my makeup and take long showers.  But I gladly give it up every day for my kids.  Like and share if you love being a mom!”

Look, I get it.  Being a mother *is* the most rewarding job of my life.  We all love our kids fiercely.  But something about the message rubbed me the wrong way and it’s taken me a while to figure out why.

FIrst of all, I detest the “like and share if” posts.  If your status or post is worthy of sharing, you won’t find yourself needing to ask for likes and shares.  I participate in Facebook for the pics of your kids eating spaghetti and your recent drunken Vegas trip shenanigans – not to see your chain mail.

And more importantly, read carefully, the status measures the quality of motherhood by what a woman sacrifices.  It insinuates that if you don’t gladly give up showers and makeup and instead, (like me) begrudge the days when you greet the world with two-day hair and chapstick, that you don’t love being a mom.  It spreads the message that it’s okay (and maybe even important?) to put yourself last when it comes to your family.  This may seem like small potatoes, but I’m committed to keeping it real when it comes to motherhood (and life in general), and this social standard that mothers have to do it all and like every moment only hurts us as a sisterhood.  It makes new moms feel inferior, contributes to risk factors for postpartum mood and anxiety disorders, and fosters distance between women.

Two-day hair and chapstick, folks.

Two-day hair and chapstick, folks.

Motherhood is hard enough without the added guilt, don’t you think?

So, I’d like to contribute my own mantra.  It goes a little something like this:

I love my kids.  You love your kids.  And it’s important to take good care of them – to meet their physical and emotional needs.  But I’m important too, and that’s okay.  I want to set a good example for my children and to teach them about self-care and life balance.  There are days I will wear makeup and there are days I won’t.  And it’s okay if I hate the days I won’t.  I don’t have to give up the woman I was to be a great mom.

 

Tags: , ,

Why 2012 Can Suck It… and My One Word for 2013

2 Jan

I was ready to write about how this year was full of highs and lows.  How it almost broke me but gave me back my life.  And then my husband reminded me that No2 was born in 2011, that we went to Vegas in 2011, and all the good stuff happened in… you guessed it.  2011.

My New Years Eve tweet read, “Suck it, 2012.”

You see, this was the year I lost my last grandparent.  It was 52 weeks of broken sleep with a baby toddler who still does not sleep through the night.  I severely injured my spine twice this year, got one ride in an ambulance, spent a cumulative period of 5 weeks on narcotics, and endured one spinal injection and 7 days on an oral steroid.  I watched helplessly from afar as one of my best friends nearly lost her battle with Bipolar Disorder.  This year, the stomach flu wiped out my entire family for two weeks.  For four months early in the year, I argued with pediatricians about my colicky newborn only to discover that I could cure all her ills if I could live without dairy.  It’s the year I saw my local bestie maybe a dozen times in the last 365 days, and she lives in the neighborhood next to mine.  It’s the year my husband and I sacrificed our time together and put our marriage lower on the priority list so we could just survive.  Turns out my “one word” for the year was survive.

That’s not to say it wasn’t also full of joy.  I went to BlogHer ’12.  I dyed my hair hot pink and slept in a bed with a stranger from the internet.  I watched my baby grow from a limp newborn to an inquisitive, walking toddler.  I met a major personal goal and breastfed No2 for over a year (and am still going strong)!  I made new friends and found a community of moms online who have enriched my life in a way I never knew was possible over the Internet.  I have a warm home, plenty of food, and friends and family nearby to experience life with.  In many ways, I was very lucky last year.

But still, I’m looking forward to 2013 and the renewed excitement and hope that comes with the new year and fresh, clean calendar.

My word this year?  Is FUN.  We’ve been so entrenched in survival mode around here, I feel like we’ve forgotten how to let go and have fun.  I want my girls to remember a childhood of silliness, laughter, and joy.  And I want that for myself, too.

OneWord2013_Fun

Huge thanks to Melanie at Only a Breath for the beautiful One Word button!

Tags: , , ,

When Birthdays Aren’t So Happy

14 Oct

No1 turned 4 this week.  Among the bittersweet celebration of her newest number floated tiny flashbacks.  Bit and pieces of the horror kept snapping me out of my happiness.  The 37-week induction for no reason, the 12 hours she spent in ICU because of fluid in her lungs, the second-degree cervical laceration, and the feeling of complete disconnect with my new baby girl.  One of my most vivid memories of the day she was born is being wheeled into the ICU and realizing I had absolutely no idea which baby was mine.

Four years ago, early in October, I lost who I knew myself to be.  It may be the anniversary of my baby’s birth, but it’s also the anniversary of the onset of my PPD.

Past birthdays haven’t been so hard.  But my birth experience with No2 was so beautiful and peaceful and my bond so deep and immediate, that the anger over how bad round one was has resurfaced.  It’s almost as if comparing experiences has highlighted how horrid the first one was.  I realize it’s water under the bridge. . . that I have an amazing little girl who knows that she is loved and feels it ever day with me.  Maybe it shouldn’t matter how I gave birth to her, but it does.  Those early days were filled with emotional and physical trauma, both of which I suppose I’m still healing from.

Today, we celebrated with a party.  A house full of preschool friends, yellow “happy car convertible” decorations, a Matchbox car race, crafts, and treats.  It was joyful and a celebration of everything No1 is in this moment.  She had an incredible time.  Incredible.  I’m choosing to focus on that.  Choosing to live in the present.

But in these quiet moments when my heart reaches back to the past and aches for what might have been, or regrets all the time lost to denial and naiveté , I am trying to be kind to myself.  I’m staying up late to play video games with my husband, imagining Velma’s face on each villain and alien creature.  I’m taking long showers, freshening up the pink in my hair, and wearing my favorite makeup.  I’m sleeping in on the weekends and going to bed early to listen to podcasts I know will send me off to dreamland.  I’m sipping my coffee slowly and microwaving it as many times as it takes to finish the whole cup hot.  I’m soaking in each “I love you,” from my now-four-year-old.

It’s okay to celebrate her four astounding years on this earth and grieve for the joyful birth and postpartum experiences I was deprived of.  And spooning chocolate frosting straight from the can into my face?  Sure has helped with both.

Tags: , , , , , ,

Gifts of Imperfection – Exploring the Power of Love, Belonging, and Being Enough, Week 3

24 Sep

You can find previous chapters using the page navigation above.  Brene’s book can be purchased HERE.  It’s awesome.

Gifts of Imperfection – Exploring the Power of Love, Belonging, and Being Enough

When we spend a lifetime trying to distance ourselves from the parts of our lives that don’t fit with who we think we’re supposed to be, we stand outside of our story and hustle for our worthiness by constantly performing, perfecting, pleasing, and proving. Our sense of worthiness—that critically important piece that gives us access to love and belonging—lives inside of our story.

Brown, Brene (2010-09-20). The Gifts of Imperfection (p. 23). BookMobile. Kindle Edition.

I think back to my teens and twenties and feel like I wasted years and years attempting to “fit in.” Isn’t that what we all do in high school?  Try to figure out who everyone wants us to be?  I wish I could say that becoming a mother matured me beyond this behavior, but it only redirected my attention to who I was supposed to be “as a mother.”  I looked everywhere for the answer.  Parenting books.  Friends.  My own mother.

Brene calls this “hustling for worthiness.”  That phrase hits me right in the gut because I know the pain of changing in an attempt to belong only to find belonging slip through my fingers.  Worthiness was always just out of reach and clothed in self-doubt.  I was supposed to love snuggling my baby all night.  I was supposed to be happy staying at home.  I was supposed to feel like my baby and I belonged together.  Supposed to.  If you’re ever wondering if you’re hustling for worthiness, listen for those words.  They are my red flag.

The other portion in this chapter that resonates with me is about love.

To begin by always thinking of love as an action rather than a feeling is one way in which anyone using the word in this manner automatically assumes accountability and responsibility. — BELL HOOKS

Bell Hooks, All About Love: New Visions (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, Harper Paperbacks, 2001).

She shares the quote above and gives examples of times she’s struggled with practicing love in her own life.

I truly love Steve (and, oh man, I do), then how I behave every day is as important, if not more important, than saying “I love you” every day. When we don’t practice love with the people we claim to love, it takes a lot out of us. Incongruent living is exhausting.

Brown, Brene (2010-09-20). The Gifts of Imperfection (p. 28). BookMobile. Kindle Edition.

The stress of parenting small children (or even just the stress of everyday life) can make us forget that love is something you do.  My husband likes to say that he told me he loves me the day we got married and if that changes, he will let me know.  He practices love each day  instead.  This chapter reminded me that though I might tell him I love him every day, when I snap at him in an anxious moment, I am not practicing love.  And when I lose my temper with No1, I needed to be more mindful of showing her the love I feel for her.  It’s not easy, and not always possible.  But being mindful of how important my everyday actions are to the people around me has helped me feel more connected to them.  It makes me want to explicitly teach the language of worthiness to my children.

Let’s talk.  Can you think of a time when you felt true belonging? How did you get there?  How did it change your interactions with others or your perception of yourself?

How do you hustle for worthiness?  I know I fall victim to believing that perfection will lead to worthiness for me.  And pleasing.  I am SUCH a people pleaser and am actively working on learning to say no, putting myself first.  Is it performing, perfecting, pleasing, proving?  Or something else?

Disclaimer: I purchased the book Gifts of Imperfection on my own and am not being compensated for my review of the book or for promoting it. I receive no kickback from any of the Amazon links provided above. I simply love the book and want to share.

Tags: , , , , , ,

Gifts Of Imperfection – Courage, Compassion, and Connection, Week Two

17 Sep

If you’re just joining in, you can find Week One here.  And the link to the book here.  Welcome.

Gifts Of Imperfection  - Courage, Compassion, and Connection

Brene Brown calls courage, compassion, and connection the Gifts of Imperfection because all three require us to be vulnerable and imperfect, but reap great rewards of a more wholehearted life.  

I particularly love how she discusses that these are life habits – that you can practice “couraging” to become more courageous. I have to say that I have found this to be true. By blogging about my experiences with mental health, I’ve had to practice all three gifts. And it *has* gotten easier to be courageous with practice, though I still struggle in certain settings and with particular people (sometimes even myself!) to be courageous, compassionate, and to connect.  Feeling overwhelmed?  Not to worry.  Brene gives practical, everyday examples of what these look like and makes it clear that even small steps toward the “three C’s” will contribute to your sense of worthiness.

Here are a few of my “a-ha” moments from this chapter:

“Until we can receive with an open heart, we are never really giving with an open heart. When we attach judgment to receiving help, we knowingly or unknowingly attach judgment to giving help.” (p. 20)

“The heart of compassion is really acceptance. The better we are at accepting ourselves and others, the more compassionate we become. Well, it’s difficult to accept people when they are hurting us or taking advantage of us or walking all over us. This research has taught me that if we really want to practice compassion, we have to start by setting boundaries and holding people accountable for their behavior.” (pp. 16-17)

“Shame hates it when we reach out and tell our story. It hates having words wrapped around it—it can’t survive being shared. Shame loves secrecy. The most dangerous thing to do after a shaming experience is hide or bury our story. When we bury our story, the shame metastasizes.” (pp. 9-10)

Brown, Brene (2010-09-20). The Gifts of Imperfection. BookMobile. Kindle Edition.

For me, it all boils down to speaking my truth.  Being real with myself and people in my life.  It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been worthwhile.

Tell me about a time you practiced or witnessed “ordinary courage”. What are some small, practical ways you can be mindful and practice courage, compassion, and connection this week?

Disclaimer: I purchased the book Gifts of Imperfection on my own and am not being compensated for my review of the book or for promoting it. I receive no kickback from any of the Amazon links provided above. I simply love the book and want to share.

Tags: , , , , ,

Truthful Tuesday

24 Jul

I’m only mostly sure today is Tuesday.  I’m operating on 3 hours of broken sleep, two cups of coffee, and a handful of Oreos at the moment.  And there are still 5 days until my husband returns to rescue me from this little adventure in solo parenting.

I actually have so much I want to write about, but the baby naps in 45 minute increments (if I’m lucky), so the truth is, I’m phoning it in with adorable pictures.  You’ll forgive me, right?

 

No1 at Six Months Old

Image

No2 at almost 7 Months old.

Tags: , , , , ,

← Older Entries

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 536 other followers

%d bloggers like this: