BE PATHETIC, BE, BE PATHETIC!
Who came up with this whole "find your best, most wonderful, authentic self" crap? I mean really. How is it that so many people spend so much of their lives trying to "find themselves"? Is the world just one big department store and we are all toddlers wandering off and, at some point, we have to send out an AMBER alert for our souls?
I mean, I THINK I know the answers to these questions.
We are told by society and the world at large who we are supposed to be, what we are supposed to aspire to, how we are to become OUR BEST SELVES. But honestly it is just so exhausting. And frankly, also rather traumatizing to be always looking for your toddler-lost-in-the-department-store self.
I feel like we've lost the ability to just BE. To revel in the mundane, the boring, the quiet and simple. Why do we put so much pressure on ourselves and often on our kids to be THE BEST all the time at all they do. In all this striving for all the things one should be/do/have, are we not just creating more stress and anxiety for everyone?
The answer is obviously YES.
In Janelle Hanchett's memoir, "I'm Just Happy to Be Here", she writes about one of her sponsors, Good News Jack, who says to her at one point in her recovery, "Wouldn't it be great if you could be OK with being pathetic?"
This line has been stuck in my head for weeks since I first read it. Weeks of watching Nine in her MULTIPLE dance competitions dancing her little heart out and having a great time - regardless of medals or scores or placings. Weeks of me looking for the quick fix for my back pain. Physio and needles and injections and massages and OH RIGHT! I can't undo 20 years of Rheumatoid Arthritis and a compensating body in a mere 6 months. And weeks of me wondering what is wrong with my kid and why he keeps getting into scuffles at school and where we have failed as parents, only to realize that 11 is a tough age for all kids and tweening is HARD yo, and maybe we are all a little bit pathetic (read NOT perfect) and well, maybe that's OK.
Here is the truth. Some days my authentic self wakes up, she gets the kids to school, walks the dog, comes back home, and falls back into bed into a deeper sleep than she had the previous night and sleeps for hours. Other days, she gets herself to the gym (even when all she can think about it falling back into bed), runs all the errands, arranges for the landscaping and tree-trimming to start, preps for soccer practices and games, gets groceries, and even plans meals for a couple of days. And then there are the days when it's a frozen pizza and a pre-made salad because that's all the energy I have to give to cooking that day.
My authentic self likes to go hide in her office and watch too many post-apocalyptic Netflix shows (hello new season of #The100!) while also colouring in her Jenny Lawson colouring book and tells her husband that she is "working". Sometimes my authentic self wears full on makeup, including her ever improving winged-eyeliner, and sometimes she forgets to actually put anything on her face and oh-my-good-gawd-woman, when was the last time you cleaned your glasses? Do you even care what you look like? Did you brush your teeth today?
As you can see, I am often authentically pathetic. And I am learning to be OK with that. Because nowhere in the manual of "How to be a Human Being" does it say that one has to be EXCEPTIONALLY EXCEPTIONAL AT ALL TIMES in order to be happy. (Also - there is no such manual - we are literally all doing this living thing on the fly!)
This is me being your very own Good News Jack and telling you, it is just fine to be OK with being pathetic. To accept that mediocrity is not a sin or a sign of failure. To love your people, let yourself be loved, and cut yourself a whole shitload of slack. In Brené Brown's "The Gifts of Imperfection" she describes authenticity as "the daily practice of letting go of who we think we're supposed to be and embracing who you are".
So let's all try to let go of the panic-stricken-parent-looking-for-their-lost-toddler-at-Target part of ourselves. And, oh, I don't know, maybe try to be more like the toddler who got fascinated with a display of colourful towels and decided to make a fort with them and then fell asleep. You know, metaphorically speaking of course, cause this definitely is not (probably is) based on a true story.
About to take a nap.
Be kind y'all. Especially to yourself.
XOXO,
N~
#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.
***********
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!
#requiredreading: I'm Just Happy to Be Here by Janelle Hanchett
Ok, so here I am, writing another book review.
Except I am probably really bad at this. Because all I really want to do is quote you all the things I highlighted in the book. I want to read you the parts that made me cry, the lines that made me laugh out loud, and especially the ones that I actually had to write down on sticky notes and past all over my desk/mirror/headboard/fridge.
If I do all of that, I will of course ruin the book-reading experience for you. I'll tell you the ending before you even read the book. The funny thing is, you may already know the ending of this one, and it's the middle part where the real story is here - and it is for this reason, you need to read THIS particular book.
I am talking about Janelle Hanchett's new memoir of mothering and addiction, I'm Just Happy to Be Here, available for pre-order NOW and being released on May 1, 2018.
Like I said, some of you are already familiar with Janelle. She is the writing genius behind the blog Renegade Mothering. You know, the one who writes all the things we are all thinking about motherhood and life (with the requisite curse words), but are too nice to actually say out loud for fear of being thought of as an asshole, or you know, a person who is not the Valencia-filtered, my house is all white but I have three kids and two dogs and a goat and go check out my Instagram Stories for my DIY hand-scraped hardwood floors, perfect MOMMY!
You may think you know Janelle and her lovely brood of children with her equally lovely (read: hot, bearded, HOTTIE MacHOTPANTS) husband from reading her blog, and maybe we all do, to a point. #HappytoBeHere is the part of the story we don't know, the part where we see how far someone can go and how much they can lose to addiction. Janelle takes us along on her reckless journey to her lowest point and then, with repeated backslides and falls along the way, her climb back up from that pit.
This isn't just a recovery memoir. It's a truth-revealing one. And not just Janelle's truths, but universal ones that we all need to hear, and maybe write on sticky notes and post them all over the place to repeat to ourselves like little daily mantras helping us get out of our own heads, you know, ummm... if that is something you do.
Go and pre-order the book. Request it at your local library. Tell your book club to add it to their list for 2018. Whatever you need to do, just get it and read it.
You too will realize, just how happy you are to be here.
N~
Disclosure: Hanchette Book Group sent me an Advance Reading Copy of the book to read. All opinions are my own.
Friday Faves: In no particular order.
I'd like to get back to sharing my favourite people, places and things with you again. This practice is yet another on the list of writing related things that bring me joy and I'm all about getting and giving joy where and when I can. Especially when our current world can seem like a giant mountain of poop some days.
I've taken to using the hashtags #shoplocal, #shopsmall, and #askmewhere on my Social Media posts lately and I wholeheartedly believe in local/small/ethical consumerism and love to help others discover really cool companies to support.
And I like to shop. Plain and simple. Pretty new things also bring me much joy.
So, without further ado, here are my current favourites:
1. Everlane High-waist Wide-leg Cropped pants.
Ok, listen up women. We've been doing pants wrong. We all have a natural waist and we've been ignoring it for years. I stumbled across high waist jeans last year when I got my first pair of high waist Gwen jeans from Fidelity Denim and now, I swear I don't want to wear anything BUT high waist pants anymore. High waist pants are the freaking cat's meow people! They make you look taller, they contain what may otherwise (with a low waist pant) appear as "muffin-top, and in my case, actually help me with my posture and gait post hip and knee surgery.
They are like miracle pants! Basically - just do it. Jump on this here bandwagon and stand a little taller in your fancy ass high waist pants! (Oh, and yes, your ass will look rather nice too.)
Everlane Wide Leg High Waist Cropped Pant
(not so cropped on me of course!)
2. Knix Padded Evolution Bra and High Waist Luxe Underwear.
I've been a fan of the Knixwear Evolution bra since it's Kickstarter days and I have a few of them, but I JUST ordered a padded one this past month. And now I have ordered another one. I like it that much! Full disclosure, I've also tried the V-neck bra, but I don't like it as much as the original Evolution bra. Oh and since I am on a high-waist kick at the moment, I am also loving the Luxe High Rise briefs from Knixwear as well.
Pro-tip ladies - high waist or retro briefs are great under skirts and dresses, again, getting rid of those pesky muffin panty lines. Do not know the so-called granny panties, our Grannies knew a thing or two about undergarments!
3. Boocha
Do you like kombucha? Do you even know what kombucha is? Never mind. The details don't really matter (and may gross you out a bit). Just know that it is good and good for you. And there is a local company here in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada making the yummiest handcrafted kombucha. They are called boocha. You can find their kombucha bottled in their cute stub-neck brown bottles at various cafe's and businesses in the city and on tap at a few places too. And rumour has it, boocha makes a great mix for cocktails. My personal trainer fully endorsed this idea this morning as a healthy alternative to pop or juice for your fancy drinks. ;)
Testing all the flavours to find my favourite. (missing is the Lavender one - which is super Yummy too!)
4. PURA Botanicals Skincare
I hate winter. Ok, fine, I don't really hate it, I just hate how dry my skin gets in winter. In order to combat the epic dryness that our extended winter's inevitably bring, I started using PURA Botanicals skin care this past fall. And I am in LOVE. First off, all of the Pura products are made in small batches of the most pristine plant-based, non-toxic ingredients. Second, they SMELL amazing, and last but not least, they work. I now have the softest, loveliest, skin ever, and have not had that tight dryness feeling in my face all winter. I am particularly fond of the Overnight Watermelon Mask and the Ambrosia Beautifying Serum. And for those winter getaways, I can't recommend the little sample/travel kit enough. Everything is the perfect size to get you through a week away, without having to lug around all your big pots of product.
5. The Poppy Barley Satchel
I am forever on the hunt for the "PERFECT PURSE". You know, the one that is not too big, not too small, can fit all the things I need, but also force me to edit what I actually need to be carrying around so I don't end up with a Mary Poppins carpet bag purse where things get lost in the far recesses.
I think I may have found it, thanks to Poppy Barley. I already have The Essentials Purse from PB, and I love it for when I just need my wallet and my phone and a lipgloss or two. The Essential is perfect for a night out and when a purse is needed, but a sequenced clutch would be too much. For those other times when I need a little more room, the newest addition to the PB Accessories line, I think The Shoulder Satchel is the one. It's got a classic, sophisticated look to it, can fit an iPad (and everything else I need), and can be held with the handle or worn cross body. It looks and feels like a proper grown-up purse and one that will never go out of style.
Now, I just need to decide if I want the Black or the Caramel...?
**********
And there you have it, my current list of favourite things. What are some of yours? Let me know in the comments. And as always, know that I like to #shopsmall, #shoplocal and give shout outs to companies that are run by women and for women.
Have a great weekend everyone!
XO,
N~
Required Reading: So you want to talk about Race, By Ijeoma Oluo
It's hard to write a review of a book that you wish never had to be written.
(And right off the bat, I screw it up, because you know what's way effing harder than writing a review of a book like this...
WRITING the gawd-damn book. Fuck. I'm sorry Ijeoma.)
But here we are, it's 2017, North American politics is a cess pool of alt-right, fake news, white supremacist bullshit, and there are people who either believe that racism doesn't exist anymore or who see the rise of these so-called "politicians" as permission to be their racist-ass-selves all out in the public now....
And we (white people) all wring our hands and wonder, how did we get here?
The thing is folks, I am 100% positive that people of colour haven't seen this "sudden rise" in racism. They know it has always been there. That WE have always been here, a lot of us with our heads buried comfortably in the sand.
The internet and open platforms like Facebook and Twitter and blogging have given voices to those who have been on the margins of our squeaky clean, literally WHITE-WASHED world, and the choice we are faced with now, is to keep our heads buried in that sand, or lift them up, see the injustices faced by people who don't look like us, and figure out how to be good, effective allies and help put out the garbage-fire that is consuming our world.
Reading this book would be a good place to start.
I am talking about "So you want to talk about Race" by Ijeoma Oluo. I first started following and reading Ijeoma two years ago via Twitter. I have since devoured everything she has written. She is a warrior, a mother, a writer, a gawd-damn genius with make-up, and as much as I know this exhausts her - an educator for the (white) masses.
SYWTTAR is both a memoir and a manual. Oluo mined her life to give us examples of the kinds of everyday racism she has faced, that she still faces, each and every day. Can you imagine the strength one needs to be able to do that? To relive over and over, through edit after edit, book tours, interviews, and readings, the most painful, dehumanizing points in your life?
“I started writing because I had to.
Because my world was on fire and nobody was saying anything.
Now my world is still on fire,
but people keep applauding my ability to describe the flames.”
Ijeoma did that. She has said that she writes because she has to, she writes to be heard and for others who can't be heard. And in this instance, I feel like she has also written this book, so that when the randos come at her on Twitter or Facebook demanding she explain racism to them ONCE AGAIN, she can now send them a link to Amazon and GET PAID FOR THAT SHIT!
And people, you will pay for this book, and if you are ready, you will learn from it, and as a result (I hope) you will become a better ally to all people of colour. Because this book is not only a memoir of Oluo's deeply personal stories, it is a manual for the rest of us on how to not only talk about race, but to actively do some introspection to understand and acknowledge our own racism, and then actually do something about it.
If you consider yourself to be intersectional, this is required reading.
If you consider yourself an ally to people of colour, this is required reading.
If you think you shouldn't talk about racism because you are not a visible minority, this is required reading.
If you are worried about saying the wrong thing when talking about race, THIS IS REQUIRED READING.
If you are a human person, who was born on a day ending in Y,
THIS. IS. REQUIRED. READING.
And yes, there will be a test...
Be ready for it.
N~
Here's to so much more.
Here's to strong women.....
And to the ones who haven't quite realized their strength yet,
to the ones who know the value of vulnerabiltiy, and lean into it,
to the ones who society thinks are weak because they can't leave just yet,
to the ones who are too scared to step forward into #metoo,
to the ones who can't truly be who they are inside because it is not safe,
to the ones who are barley keeping it together,
to the ones who need four cups of coffee to get going each day,
and the ones who want a glass of wine at the end of it.
Here's to the women who post #selfies as an act of rebellion,
and to those who think they look too damn cute and just want to celebrate that fact.
May we know them...
may we know when it is time to sit down, be quiet, and listen,
may we know what it is like to de-centre ourselves from conversations where we don't need to talk,
may we know how to unlearn our own unconscious biases,
may we know the true meaning of intersectionality and apply it to all our efforts.
May we be them...
may we be whatever the fuck we want to be,
may we become better at listening, better at seeing, better at including,
may we beware of the traps of the patriarchy and not continuously fall into them,
may we be beacons for those who need them to find their way.
May we raise them...
may we raise each other up, always,
may we raise money for organizations that support all women, that are run by women, for women,
may we raise a generation of women and femmes who won't settle for anything less than anyone else,
and may we all keep this fire in our bellies, no matter how small it may be, for more than just this day...
Because it's the small smouldering ones that we need to keep feeding....
they are the ones that will one day ignite and be the flame to light the path for more to follow,
and some of them will also burst into flames like A FIERY FUCKING PHOENIX and burn this shit to the ground!!
.
.
.
... Anywhooooo,
HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY
Y'ALL!!!
MWAH!!
N~
Discombobulated
When people ask me what I do (as in for a living or along those lines), lately I have a hard time answering them.
My friend Marissa is always on me about how much she eschews labels and categorizing ourselves, and I have always chided her about this and embraced the labels that I thought defined me: stay-at-home mother, feminist, activist, writer, stylist.
Right now, I feel like there are no labels that fit me. I mean, sure, to varying degrees, I am still all of the things I listed above, but I also struggle with at least one of these "labels" on a daily basis. Maybe Marissa has been right this whole time.
I like to be organized. You know, everything in its place and a place for everything. At this moment in my life, I don't know what my place is. I feel messy.
Jumbled.
Discombobulated.
Leading into late 2016, and 2017, I had it all planned out. I knew we had to prepare for my knee joint replacement surgeries (and the surprise hip revision surgery) and we did, meticulously. What I didn't prepare for however, was the extended rehab that this heavy load of surgical procedures would require of me. I think I figured that the surgeries would fix me, and then POUF! I would be footloose and fancy/pain-free!
The reality is, I asked a lot of my body this past year and it was trying its very best to keep up with the demands of the surgeries and of life in general. Demands that in the end, where too much. I had to reassess everything I was doing at the end of last year and make some changes. It has taken me this long to come to the realization that this year may not be the year of me running, or jumping, or having a full-time career just yet. It is the year of me slowly retraining my body to work within it's new framework. It is the year of adjusting my expectations. It is the year of knowing that nothing is a quick fix, and the only way to reach a goal is through hard, often painful, and tedious work.
And while I may be primarily talking about my physicality, writing this down makes me realize that this strategy is really the only way to any goal. You'd think being a 46-year-old woman with more than half a lifetime of experience under by belt, I would know these things already. Yeah, well, let's just chalk this all up to me being a perpetual late-bloomer.
I've shifted my life and work so that I can focus on getting stronger and taking care of myself as best I can. And while I know I needed to make these changes, I didn't expect so many mixed feelings to come along with them. The feelings of selfishness and guilt (I should be working more, I should be doing more volunteer work, I should be writing, I should, I should, I should, etc...) and constantly questioning if I am making the right decisions. I wonder if I have the right to call myself a writer if I haven't written ANYTHING in almost five months. I wonder if I can call myself a stylist simply because I work extremely part-time at a fashion boutique. I wonder if I can call myself an activist, when I have not done anything to ACTIVELY fight systemic injustice lately. I don't expect these feelings to go away, and I know I have to be OK with being selfish and label-less right now. With saying NO to things I just really can't do - no matter how 'perfect' an opportunity or project or cause may be.
This pulling back is hard for me, because in my heart, I want to do ALL THE THINGS. Go to all the rallys, get involved with community and national groups, help people feel good about themselves, write all the think-pieces and get my voice out there, attend concerts and lectures, and you know..... MAKE A DIFFERENCE.
But my body and my psyche need different things right now. No matter how much I want to fit into my neat labeled categories, I can not. I need to be my own warrior. I need to focus all that energy I put into embracing my outward "labels" and direct it inwards for a time. And maybe this is what Marissa has been trying to tell me all along about these so-called labels and why she doesn't believe in them. Labels are for the outside world. What I need right now has nothing to do with the outside world and everything to do with me working internally to become a stronger human being both physically and emotionally.
So here I am, taking some advice from the old Biblical proverb that says,
"Physician, heal thyself."
N~
P.S. Part of my healing will be to make a concerted effort to get back to the things that bring me joy - writing is one of those things and I've let it slide for far too long. It feels good to see my words on the page/screen once again.
a final goodbye
In two days, the new owners will take possession of the #naturalurbanhome.
They will move in, change things around, add their own style and signature and smell to the place, and make it their home.
As I sit here in the COLD waiting area at my kid's dance studio writing this, I am surprised by how NOT upset I am about this. (Seriously someone needs to turn up the damn thermostat in this place!!)
I went to the house today to do one final walk through every room, one final peak in every drawer and cupboard, and one final exhale in this beautiful house that was our home for the past five years.
It felt good to be there by myself this morning for this farewell. I wanted to leave the house today and take all of its memories with me, the good ones as well as the not-so-good ones, and hand over the new owners a clean slate and a space free of any negative emotions.
I do still love this house. I loved who we became as a family in this house. This house of concrete and glass was our literal foundation when our world was falling apart around us and was always a soft landing place to which we could return. It housed our bodies and our souls, and we learned to love deeper and stronger within its walls.
I love the beautiful pine ceiling in the living area so damn much, and I'll miss my apple martini countertops. My cold feet will miss the in-floor heating the most. (#HintHINT: Someone **ME** needs a really good pair of slippers for Christmas this year!)
I hope the new owners will treat the place well and add to its uniqueness.
I hope whatever energy and spirit and footprint we have left in the house continues to give its inhabitants strength and love and nothing but good juju.
Goodbye to you my #naturalurbanhome.
And thank you.
XO,
N~