#draftfromthepast: March 2013 "more"
Draft Post written in March, 2013
Yesterday, I swept my floors twice, I cleaned four out of five of the bathrooms in our house (Why do we have so many damn toilets??), I made three square meals for my family, I wiped little bums, tucked in sleepy children and did two loads of laundry. If you threw in some ironing of my husbands shirts (which he has banned me from doing, because I suck at it), I would be the picture perfect 1950's housewife.
Trust me, this is not what I pictured my life to be like when I was a 20-something, career-focused gal, with sights set on MAKING MY MARK IN THIS WORLD. I am not quite sure what I had pictured, but it was probably somewhere in between these two. I have always been a bossy, know what I want kind of person, and I have a bit of a flair for the dramatic, so you see, equal parts Hillary and Gaga and there was my future me, Grown-up Natasha - Making her Mark!
So what happened? Where is that woman? Was that her yesterday, yellow-gloved and elbow deep scrubbing toilets?
I have moments lately where I look at myself and I wonder if I really do know myself. Do I know what my purpose in life is and am I living that fully? How exactly am I making my mark?
A lot of questions I know. Yes, I am a mother and I am making my mark by moulding the minds of these two little people in my care, and that is the single greatest (and scariest) responsibility and privilege in my life. Perhaps it is because I am not as young as I used to be and that feeling of "Go forth and DO something BIG and meaningful" seems to be slipping away as the years go by. Maybe this is a normal kind of thing that happens to people when a parent dies. We see their lives, their regrets, the things that they wish they had done differently and wonder if we too will be on our death beds, asking for forgiveness, wishing we had done more, trying to find peace, hoping it was all enough.
This grief stuff is tricky. I am fine for days and then I go through the so-called "five stages of grief" like it's some kind of morose Candy Crush game. Denial of my own still present anger, and then angry for feeling anger, then I think about how (or if) my life would have been different had he been in it, then I try to wash it all away in my happy place and be at peace with what is/was. Most days I complete all the levels and try to move on, and others I get stuck with that one piece of jelly that I just can't clear. One nagging thought that won't leave me, one piece of the puzzle that I wish I had, but that I know I will never likely find.
Right now I am stuck here: Am I enough?
I wonder if we all reacted so viscerally to the infamous "Are you Mom Enough" Time magazine cover, because perhaps deep down we really do wonder this very thing about ourselves? Are we mom enough? Are we woman enough? Are we wife enough? Are we contributing member of society enough?
The thing is, I don't want to just be enough. I want to be more. I want to be spectacular. I want my children to look at me and see the Hillary/Gaga Natasha and be inspired by her. To know that they can be whatever they want to be and then some! That yes, they can have it all, but perhaps just not all at the same time. Maybe this is my problem.
I used to be the primary breadwinner in this family. I was the one with the upwardly mobile career, the accolades and awards and incentive trips and an eye on climbing that ladder to the top. And then things changed. The new life growing inside me became the top priority, and life in general became less and less about me.
I feel like I am at a point in my life where I want that back somewhat. I want my life to be about me again. Not all about the mothering, the housewife-ing, the keeping it all together for everyone else-ing. Oh dear, that's it isn't it? I am having a bloody mid-life crisis! The status quo is no longer satisfying me and I need more. More what exactly, I don't know. I have no desire for a sports car or a young Brad Pitt a la Thelma & Louise. I don't want to go back to my previous career path.
I JUST DON'T KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE.
I don't want to feel this feeling of just getting through my days as fast as possible. How soon until school drop off, pick up, this lesson, that class, dinner, bedtime... My life in one to two hour increments of wondering how much of it I get for me. It really shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't feel like this.
I have a wonderful life. A husband who loves me, two amazing, healthy, beautiful children, an incredible roof over our heads, I do not want for anything.
And yet... this feeling that there must be more. That I should be doing more, being more. It's nagging me like crazy lately.
This might also explain my reluctance to get together with people. I can't handle all the questions. How are you? What are you doing now? What's new?
NOTHING! Nothing is new. And I am NOT well. And I am not really doing a whole lot of anything that would interest anyone outside of my immediate family.
But no one wants to hear that. No one wants to hear that I have days when I really wish I could be anywhere else but here. That I can hear my children asking me to play with them, but I just can't do it. That I hope that they can tell that my hugs are desperately trying to tell them that I am trying...
...really, really hard.
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I wrote this shortly after my father passed away in early 2013. It was before I started taking antidepressants and just after I started therapy as well. My kids were 3 and 5 and it was still 1 year before the Summer of Sepsis & Stroke (as I am now calling it.)
It's quite the ramble and my thoughts are all over the place, which I believe is a testament to the chaos I was feeling in my mind that desperatley needed organizing.
As mothers, I am not sure we ever fully believe we are ENOUGH in this life or for these little people we love. Since I wrote this, I have learned to make my life more fulfilling for myself and ask for or take what I need, when I need it - with a lot less guilt then previously.
I am MORE now and I was always enough (and you are too!)
XO,
N~
P.S. ALSO - can I just say that I was totally #WITHHER (Hillz that is) way before the election!
Snowed in.
Today it snowed. And we were supposed to leave for a family weekend getaway in the mountains. The car was packed, everyone had their movies queued up on the iPads and we were good to go.
But...
We live on a street in a valley.
And I made an appointment to have my winter tires put on NEXT week.
My poor car couldn't even make it up the hill in front of our house to get out of our neighbourhood.
We had to park a block away, grab all our stuff and walk back home.
Four people, walking home, all looking pretty much like this.
So we fired up the fireplace (flicked the switch actually) and settled in for a day of movies, games, naps, dinner out and a new Wii Dance game.
The day ended far better than it started.
I am still disappointed that I have to cook meals all weekend, but we are together and we are going to have a fun little staycation (the kids are on a 5 day break from school).
And next year, I'll book my tire change at the beginning of October and look more seriously into heading to Palm Springs for this fall break thing!
n~
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Day 8.
Feminist Fare Friday: Edition #23
Here is the thing. I flew from Edmonton, Alberta to Atlanta, Georgia and back again in the span of 3.5 days. I spent most of those days awake and in the company of so many amazing people that sleep just wasn't big on my priority list. This essentially means that this week, I have been a total mess. Jet-lag, lack of sleep, a brain on overdrive, a soccer season that started on Monday and has us on the field 4 days a week and all the regular daily stuff, has caught up to me and people, it is NOT pretty. My eldest child looked at me yesterday and in a concerned voice said, "Mama, are you tired? You should go lay down." So, I did.
But first, I've been collecting some awesome posts this week! So here you go, some good Mother's Day weekend reading!
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1. Gabourey Sidibe's speech from the Ms. Foundation Gala. Pro-tip: never ask a women how she is so confident. Just admire it and perhaps, let it rub off on you a bit.
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2. Remember that time I was on an airplane and the guy behind me protested loudly as I lowered my seat to get more comfortable and then I folded in on myself? Did you know that I constantly apologize for taking up too much space with my "stuff" when I am at the coffee shop? This space issue is a gendered one, a societal one, and it's one we learn early on. And while it may be her school headmistress that Soraya Chemaly hears in her head, it is my grandmother in mine.
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3. Mother's day is on Sunday. Did you know it is the 100th anniversary of Mother's Day? Did you also know about it's radical feminist beginnings too?
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4. Mothering in the digital age. Google that. You'll find pages and pages for almost any topic/issue/need that you have as a mother, as you prepare for motherhood, as you struggle with motherhood, as you celebrate motherhood. Meagan Francis wrote this incredibly personal and insightful post after the Mom 2.0 Summit this past weekend and well... just read it. You'll understand.
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Happiest of Mother's Day to each and every mother out there. I wish you 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, a closed door to pee behind. a book to read that has more than 10 pages in it, a quiet moment and a nice cup/glass of {insert whatever you love to drink here} and love, lots and lots of LOVE!
XO,
natasha~
seven year old me
You know the old adage, "Fake it till you make it"? Well, this week, I have come to the conclusion that while this can be a motivating and confidence building statement for some, I think it can be a dangerously slippery slope as well. How do you know when you've made it? When do you stop faking it? What if you have done some form of faking it your whole life and are at a point where you can't differentiate the real you from the fake you? What if faking it was a coping mechanism you needed to use in the past to get yourself through difficult circumstances, and now this kind of behaviour no longer serves you? What do you do when you've been faking it for so long, that you end up constantly feeling like you are a fraud? Like you don't truly belong. Like your just not supposed to be or to be doing {insert almost ANYTHING here}.
I feel this sense of unease in my world. Every. Single. Day.
When I go to the pool to swim lengths and choose the "fast" swimming lane, I am on edge waiting for the lifeguard to come over and tell me that I can't be in that lane, that I am not "fast" enough.
I call myself a feminist, a writer, and an advocate for women and children and yet, I live in constant fear that someone is going to call me out and say, "Na-uh, not so fast there chickie." I fear that people are going to see right through me and know that I am a capital F, fraud.
I am extremely sensitive to 'The Rules' and terrified of getting in trouble for breaking them. My daughter and I were at the library the other day, enjoying some quiet time together, choosing books, watching the babies cooing and drooling in their Baby Lap-Time program and playing a few games on the library computer. Two police officers walked in and instead of pointing out to my daughter that the police are helpers and protectors, I said, "Uh-oh, the police are here, what did you do?" Because that is how my brain works. My first thought was that I had actually done something wrong. That my car was illegally parked or I had committed some other imagined transgression that required police intervention. That I did something wrong.
There is a deeply set pathway in my brain that lets me think all of these things and yesterday, talking this out with my therapist, I figured out when this pathway was established and why. I truly can not remember a time in my life when I didn't feel like an outsider and there has never been a time that I have ever felt in with whatever "IN" crowd there is. I have always felt "other", on the fringe, trying to fit in, but never quite getting there.
Yesterday, I was reunited with seven year old me. She's a beautiful kid, but so, so scared. Her life has just been turned upside down. Her parents separated without any warning, she moved from a small town to a big city and she transferred from an even smaller school to one where she was quite literally thrown into a french-immersion program with kids who have already been together for four years. She has a mom who is working nights and a grandmother who expects a lot from her. She has three younger siblings to help take care of and she has no one to talk to about all of this. She's struggling to fit in at school, but kids are mean and they make fun of her for not knowing the language and for crying a lot. She's trying to understand why her family doesn't live with her daddy anymore, but no one is telling her anything other than he just didn't want them anymore. She feels alone, scared, and not sure exactly where she belongs.
MRquote
Yesterday was a day full of sharp pains. I joked with my therapist that she should gauge the level of success of a session based on how many used tissues are in the small garbage can beside her couch. It was empty when I arrived and at least half-full when I left. I cried tears of pain for seven year old me, tears of frustration and brutal self-awareness for 42 year old me and then I simply couldn't turn them off. Years of feeling like I don't belong, like I am faking it and yet, not quite making it (ie, I am not 'enough'), poured out of me. Yesterday, I talked to that little seven year old me and told her she does in fact belong somewhere and that somewhere was with me. That I am here for her, that is is OK to be scared and that she is NEVER alone. I gave her the biggest hug I could imagine and just held her {in my heart} for a long time. Both of us crying, filling up that garbage can with soggy tissues, trying to let go of the 35 years of feeling scared and alone and never belonging that stands between us.
I am still processing a lot of what I discovered about myself -both past and present- yesterday and am what some would call 'fragile' at the moment. I prefer to call it real, undeniably messy, definitely not perfect and very, very REAL. (Warning: do not ask me how I am doing, unless you A-have a lot of tissue on you and B-are a hugger). I can't fake it anymore and more importantly, I don't want to. If I don't "make it" (and I am still not exactly sure what that looks like), I think I am OK with that, as long as I continue to be true to myself, to accept where I have been, and to know that I don't have to keep going back and beating myself up for the past or reverting to damaging ways of thinking that don't serve me in my present life. Further understanding of how the pathways in my brain were created and why helps me to be mindful of how I talk to myself, how I react in various situations and how I see myself in my world. There is a powerful lesson to be learned for being gentle on myself as I picture seven year old me (or my own seven year old) and think about the words that I use in my daily self-talk. Because there is no way, that I would ever, EVER tell any child that he or she is stupid, fat, not good enough, not smart enough, not worthy of love or a total FAKE and yet I have said or thought all of these things about myself.
Feminist Fare Friday: Edition #16.
This week has been a BU-SY one in the online feminist world. I've read some things that have made me want to pull my hair out, others that had me on the brink of waving my Diversity Bingo card (I didn't) and even more that has made me want to actually jump up and yell. YES!! THIS!! DAMNIT!
In case you haven't already guessed, you're getting the latter in today's edition of Feminist Fare Friday.
Enjoy!
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1. Laci Green is a very candid, very outspoken, and very refreshing (if sometimes shockingly) frank vlogger and peer sex educator. She hosts a video series on Youtube called SEX+ and her recent video on sexual objectification is a must watch.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_4dPB9MVS8&feature=share&list=PLTXiNEUzXWKTfNYKThSk-kmJdf7AJRP5K[/youtube]
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2. Sometimes when I read something, I start judging within the first few sentences if I am going to like it or not (just call me Judgey-McJudgerson-it's been done before) and to be honest, I really was not sure about this one. A married with no-kids 30-something takes a week off work to try out being a "housewife". This one has to be taken with a grain (barrel) of white-middle-class-cisgender-privilege, but she does manage to pull it together in the end. At least that is what this "housewife" thinks. And for the record, if anyone ever refers to me as a housewife, I will throat-punch them.
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3. Another day. Another article written about the {online} feminism wars and how toxic it all is for everyone. Le GRAND SIGH!
While processing this latest iteration and scrolling through the reactions online, another of my favourite vloggers, Jay Smooth of Ill Doctrine, started retweeting tweets from Latoya Peterson. And then he Storify'd her timeline because she was saying some REALLY, really amazing things that I hope many, MANY people were able to read and really digest. EVERYTHING that she tweeted yesterday, made me think about what it is that I am trying to do as a feminist/activist and for that I thank her!
P.S. I think the tweets above probably work in all kinds of situations. And then I found this gem from the late, great Pete Seeger.
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4. File this one under "mansplaining". A man's critique of the #365feministselfie project, has blown UP the closed Facebook group that was created to celebrate and share all our images of ourselves. And while a lot of us have tried to respond to this dude (and to Babble-which pains me to give them the traffic-Grrrr....), the comments on his post are being heavily moderated. So what's a gal to do? Write a poem? Look up a new writer to discuss? Um. NO. One writes a post. Thanks to Darlena at Paretwin for this piece for the Babble dad who thinks he gets to tell us how to DO feminism properly!
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5. And finally, something that continues to boggle my mind. Gendered products. Trust me, I still get sucked into this marketing madness just as much as the next person. Yesterday, while talking to my kids about colouring, I told L she could use "boy" colours. Immediately C, my seven year old son, corrected me and said, "Mom, there is no such thing as "boy" colours." GAH! Yes, kid, you are so right! So, while I hang my head in shame and without further ado.... 21 things that really do not need to be gendered.
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Kung Hei Fat Choy Everyone! Happy Year of the Horse.