I had a revelation. Chaka Khan fucking lied. Or she didn’t have children at the time.
I am not everywoman. That shit ain’t all in me. Hell, I am doing good to be just me. I would be doing better though if I could be okay with pleasing me instead of trying to please everyone else though.
Pleasing everyone is an old habit that runs me ragged. It causes me to volunteer myself and agree to do shit that I know I don’t want to do. It leads me to answering the phone when I have no business doing so. And it causes my to cater to folk, when I really ought to be catering to myself.
As I silenced my phone this weekend and commenced to reading smutty manga, I realized that trying to please everyone else ain’t working too well. In fact, it runs me ragged and causes a great deal of resentment. People pleasing also helps me make a mess of shit that wouldn’t be so messy if I just told the truth.
Do I really need everyone to like me? What happens if people like me for who I am rather than what I do for them? I don’t know. I don’t know. I just know that I am exhausted and need to make some better decisions from a different place. We’ll see how this comes together.
Until next time..Take Precious Care
Somewhere between seeing my Dead Father’s name a couple of places, learning about the lung cancer vaccine (he died of lung cancer) and my son catching another cold I began to lose it. I feel anxious and like I am slowly coming apart.
No, let me back that up.. I haven’t really been right since both my husband and son got sick at the same time. The only thing that has changed is.. well… my husband isn’t sick anymore 😀
No matter who is sick and what is going on, I treat myself as if my feelings aren’t a big deal or worth a caring response. Feeling like I was wrongly discriminated against shouldn’t be a big deal, for me. I mean the folks who are discriminating against me are the ones punishing them selves–right? Besides, I went to a school for the daughters of the klan and another school named after a confederate general. I mean, insincerity and exclusion is nothing new. Feeling stressed out because Lil Boo is covered in green snot, coughing and has a low grade fever shouldn’t be a problem. His lack of napping isn’t a concern either. Give him some drugs, or pop in him a chamomile, mint & pennyroyal bath. Worried because I have no idea about which nursery school Lil Boo will be attending in fall isn’t a problem. I’ll just keep him with me while you enjoy Lil Boo number #2 because your nerves can handle it. I mean other folks do the same thing all the time you’ll be fine.
My father is dead. I should be over it. My Mother and I are estranged. I should be okay with it. Most of my friends are going through major, heavy life shit and thus ain’t got energy for my whining. That’s okay I can support myself ! Motherhood and Wifedom often require amounts of grace, mastery, love patience and compassion I never knew existed. I should just suck everything up and turn to night drinking.
No matter what I feel, somehow it isn’t enough to warrant any sort of loving, compassionate form of action. Especially when my feelings are in response to the present moment. Feelings that are revelations about days gone by are always welcome. It’s the feelings that come from the here and now that kick my ass. When I feel about the here and now my inner response usually is: Shut it, quit your bitching. Things will sort out. The odd thing is that things do sort out. However I feel like whatever my feelings in the moment are, they deserve some sort of something.
I picked this habit up from somewhere. Now let’s see if I can put it back down. *sigh*
Be good to yourself!
Sometimes, I wonder what would happen with my life if I focused more on things I love to do rather than things I have to do.
When I say focusing on what I’d love to do more, it doesn’t mean ignoring responsibilities such as paying taxes and doing groceries. It means having a willingness to be motivated and inspired to do by love rather than a sense of obligation to shit that’s outside of me. In some ways, I imagine that it would make it easier to be me and to mother Lil Boo.
However this begs the question that if things come from love, would it be easier to take the bitterness of life. Even in the pain and bitterness there is always love; it’s just harder to see. If everything comes from love, even if it the result is less than loving whatever unfolds is worthwhile. Even if it’s just experience.
I feel willing to shed some ideas about who I should be to become more comfortable with who I am.. as a good friend said, being willing to define motherhood for myself rather than allowing it to be defined for me. In this way I can focus more on love, rather than obligation.
At a Mocha Mom’s meeting.. told to calm down.. it reminded me that there are things I can do (outside of taking copius teas and shit) to be less anxious. Going warp speed on 10 is my choice… I really can stop..
How? I can pay attention to things that cause me anxiety.. like say.. taking 10 million pregnancy tests.. and stop doing that shit right there…stuff like..doing shit I don’t want to do to be a martyr.. having crazy stupid expectations of myself. Stuff like that..
Paying attention doesn’t mean I’ll stop, but it means that I’ll at least see my own crazy making and know I can quit when I want to hahahahaha! 😉
The funny thing about this is there is shit I can’t control. The shit like.. will my child get into this expensive, hippy bougie preschool.. will this hippy bougie preschool give my child money to attend….will there be brown little boys like my son at this hippy bougie preschool, will my 1099’s arrive soon, how many people will show up to class this weekend… and on and on
There is crazy making that is my own doing, I can admit that. I am just wondering what to do about the shit I can’t do anything about. My usual plans of taking pre-emptive care of myself by randomly saying fuck it to everything fell through when I had a baby 😀 I don’t know what to do now i have no new tricks… How do I function within all of this mess?
One morning, I woke up with the inspiration that I have given special meaning to events in my life that maybe don’t mean what I think they do.
No, that’s a lie. This inspiration came from Karen C.L. Anderson’s work. I guess this somehow proves the point. Everyday things happen. I ascribe meaning to these things that happen. Oddly enough, the meaning I ascribe to things often fit a narrative. If I choose to see things from a different light, I can shift the way I perceive myself and my life. I can begin to shift my narrative.
Now, I am not talking about selling myself horse shit in guise of fudge. I am talking about seeing the past from an adult’s perspective rather than that of a child’s. The pain, frustration and anger are still there and reasonable given the circumstances. However, there is a context that provides space for compassion and lightness that wasn’t there before.
It feels so soothing. Like peanut butter, I want to slather my new perspective all over my bitterness in hopes of creating something delicious. I can’t lie. I’ve found some yummy, but I’ve also come to see myself quite differently. I don’t feel like such a fuck up anymore. I just feel lost and forever in an odd space of transition. The messed up thing is, I can see where I lost myself too. It’s sad to see. But it also means that I can find myself again too 🙂
If anything, Motherhood gives you many opportunities to recreate and transform as your kids do. In fact, I feel like being a mother demands it in some ways. We’ll see what comes up next. Until next time…
Take precious care!
I am honestly quite an anxious person. Or rather, I feel a great deal of anxiety. And when I am most anxious, I try to be in control. I can’t control life. All I can do my best and and that’s it. Nothing is really certain in the world. Control over anything but myself isn’t real.
I know all these things about why I can’t control life, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try. I figure if I am control of everything there is no need for me to be anxious. So, I plan to get whatever I want. I push to get whatever I want. I work to get what I want. I scheme to get whatever I want; anything but trust whatever I want to unfold. The odd time when things did blossom into what I most wanted, it was beautiful. Maybe I haven’t recovered from the beauty of that experience.
As we have started making Boo#2, I find myself rife with anxiety. I am pushing. I am working. I am doing everything I can to have/make/create another life as if it was all mine to do all alone. We have a midwife, I am looking at furniture, charting my temperature, peeing on sticks, budgeting for the future, following my ovulation, drinking my fertility tea, doing my fertility yoga practice…. all with the hope and prayer that all this activity unfolding into a healthy baby, right now!!!!!!
God knows that babies arrive how and when they want. They also do what they want. I really have little say in the matter. But somehow I’ve decided it’s time. So now the tension mounts and I try to control a situation that is out of my control. Because you know, anxiety will increase your fertility. It sure will 🙂
Somehow I want to tie up this post with a bow of enlightenment and serenity. You know a pithy ending that means I’ve grown and shit. But I haven’t really grown :). I just know that I don’t really want to be this way. Somehow, it never works. I push too hard and end up no where. We’ll see what happens next.
Take Precious Care
One fateful Saturday Morning I stumbled across the most interesting parenting article. It was a guide for what to expect from your little ones as they grow and how to best support them. Part of me was intrigued and the other part suspicious. I am naturally suspicious of just about everything and okay with it 😀
After reading the guide, I had a few more insights about how to better support Little Boo aaaannnnddd I had a deeper understanding of little me. I’d always felt that I had a surly teenager and a four year old battling my adult self for control. This guide confirmed my suspicion and gave me hope.
It was soothing to see where and how I am developmentally stuck. It’s super exciting to see how to best parent myself when my inner teenager and Little Me show up. Although I must say they usually show up when I am need of self care in some way. They have wisdom and their approach reflects what they most want me to heal.
I still have some way to go before I can say that I understand them because I find myself more attached to shutting them up than to actually hearing what they have to say. But I can say this guide helped. I am committed to hearing them more. I am committed to receiving the wisdom they have to offer.
Until next time, take Precious Care!
Quite often managing my own emotions in front of Little Boo kicks my ass. In the moment, it’s so much easier to be absorbed in what I am trying to teach Little Boo through words, rather than what I teach him through action. Sadly, I am not always the woman I’d like to be in front of him and don’t always remember to give him a “mommy was showing her ass for this reason today” lecture. The kid deserves an explanation and can handle it.
Slowly, I am learning to give myself compassion and love as I give compassion and love to Little Boo. It feels foolish to expect myself to be perfect and have it all together all the time. I learn the most and the best when things get messy and I have to sort it out. That doesn’t mean I need to create large messes, but I can give myself a little loving compassion when I do. That’s what I would do for him.
It often feels like our emotions mirror one another. When he gets agitated, I get agitated as well, but never for the same reason. There is often a small part of me that wants be difficult, by feeling and expressing it’s own frustration at the same time; as if Little me is fighting for my attention, affection and loving forgiveness. When I have energy I can see and attend to both. I can love him and myself at the same time. In those moments, peace comes quickly.
The challenge is remaining spacious enough to love myself as I would love Little Boo. It’s been quite hard to do so lately. Between nursery school applications, sickness, honey-do’s, and a whole host of shit that ain’t mine but require my energy, my internal space has evaporated. It’s been tough to be compassionate with him or me. Despite all this crap, I keep growing—just like little Boo.
Rather than being the parent who knows everything it often feels like my son is teaching me. Everyday he gently shows me how to love and have compassion for the parts of me that are little. I tell ya, Little Boo is amazing.
Take Precious Care!
I remember preparing to get pregnant with Little Boo. I worked so hard to get through, what I considered to be my “shit”. Specifically, my shit is an accumulation of habits, attitudes, perspectives and patterns I used to get through childhood. The shit was helpful then. It really ain’t so helpful right now. I worked with intuitives, saw a shaman, prayed, read, went to therapy. I did all I could to “heal” myself of this pain I’ve been feeling for so long.
Little Boo finally came. We moved from the west coast to the east coast. I watched my father die of cancer. I started working again. Life moved on and expanded beyond my Mommy Issues. But somehow, like always, I am here again with this pain. It stirs within me. It grabs my attention and wrestles me to the floor. It takes me over and I succumb to it; forgetting who and where I am.
Here I am again with this pain in my chest. Here I am again preparing to do battle with a part of me that.. maybe I should not be fighting. I mean, if something grabs my attention from within me– it must have something important to say. I am learning to listen. If something is tugging at my pants leg because it wants me–it must need me. I’m working on stopping and loving it. Slowly I am learning to stop fighting my pain. It has something for me and I don’t need to fight it.
As I have learned to be kinder to me my pain has calmed down and softened a bit. I don’t only get more pain when I stop and listen to it. Sometimes I get a five year old hugging me from the inside and telling me that everything will be okay. Other times, I get invitations to imaginary tea parties and a strong desire to wear fancy hats.
Since my son is a toddler, sometimes Little me takes the place of pain and plays with my son. It seems to bring everyone involved fun.
Slowly, I am learning to stop seeing pain and start hearing myself. I am learning to attend to and address my own needs. I am learning to love myself and all my little Mommy issues. All I needed to do was to stop fighting myself and start listening.
Take Precious Care,
Over the past few days, while working with Wild Rose, I’ve had the oddest realization. Love has always been all around me; I just couldn’t see it. I just couldn’t understand, know, receive, perceive or feel love. There was just too much pain.
The pain comes from not knowing who or how I am. I have been lost in enmeshment with others. I confuse my own goals, values and sense of self with theirs. Then I retract in anger when I don’t or feel like I can’t express myself.
When I can honor and express myself, I don’t need to flee from others because they don’t honor who I am. When I have enough space to “let others off the hook” of allowing me to be my by attending to myself, I can see how much I am loved. Now, that doesn’t mean that they ways in which I was/am loved jive with my values, essence, morals or what have you. It doesn’t mean that I always get what I want. But it does mean that I can recognize and appreciate what others are sharing with me while I focus on taking care of myself.
The rub for me has been accepting who I am and how I be, while knowing that it’s okay if others be differently. It’s not my job to “be” for them so they can be happy or be against them so they can be happy. I don’t have to respond to that. It’s my job to be and love me. If we are on the same page about life good; let’s roll. If not, that’s fine too. All things can support and nourish our us if we allow them to. All things are valuable in their own way.
That’s all for now 🙂 Until next time..
Take Precious Care!