Posted this in a conversation with some Facebook friends today about motherhood, adoption, and relationships:
It's definitely not for everyone. And a woman who chooses not to have children is no less a woman than one who has birthed a legion. Your self-awareness should be applauded, not scorned. Unfortunately, as women, we all feel marginalized for not having children or for having them, for working or not, for getting married or being single. As a result, we all can be a tad bit defensive if we feel our life choices are being called into question.
And it got me thinking. At this time of year, our thoughts and lives turn to family, the ones we are born into and the ones we create. Many of us dread spending time with our extended family now, b/c we know we will invariably be judged. These people, some of whom we see only once a year, ask about our lives of which they otherwise have no or very little part. And they make broad sweeping statements about ways our lives would be better. They also remind us why we choose to see them so infrequently.
Maybe this year could be different. Maybe your cousin doesn't have a girlfriend, because he's working really hard on other aspects of his life. Be proud of his accomplishments, instead of belittling his lack of dates. Or maybe your sister has decided not to have children or get married. Don't try to change her mind; she's given this way more thought than you have. Be supportive. She is choosing to find life fulfillment in other, nontraditional arenas. Your uncle has finally come out of the closet. Remind him that you still think he's cool, maybe even cooler now. At the end of the day, it's NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. Just b/c you share blood ties with them, it doesn't give you the right to pass judgment on the decisions they have made for themselves.
We are all just searching for happiness. And the happiness that works for you won't work for anyone else. Telling another person how to be happy is about as effective as telling the cats not to play with the decorations. You yell and bluster, and they get scared, defensive, angry, and run away for awhile. And then when your back is turned, they go back to what they were already doing.
Think about how you want to be treated at these holiday get-togethers. Not like a defendant in a dock, but like a real person, with valid feelings and opinions. And then remember that's what everyone deserves.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Concussion Conclusions
Nearly 3 weeks ago, I was in a car accident. In addition to whiplash and other muscle strains that were to be expected, I realized that I also had a concussion. Lack of focus, dizziness, headaches, and forgetfulness have become common occurrences for me. It's frustrating and disorienting, and I am having difficulty coping.
I no longer want to go to playgroups with the baby. I dread getting in the car and try to create excuses to keep me from having to do so. Shopping is virtually impossible; bright lights and colors everywhere cause vision distortion. I cannot keep track of appointments or my possessions, and struggle to keep up with my children. I am embarrassed while trying to converse with people as I cannot remember what either of us is saying. Instead of calm and patience, my family is greeted by irrational anger and frustration.
I am working with my doctors and my therapist, but for concussions there is very little to be done but to ease the healing process by resting and avoiding additional stress to the injury. It is easier for me to just drop out of life for a little while. I will be back when I am able.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Farewell to an Unparalleled Woman
An amazing woman died this morning. Dr Maya Angelou overcame tremendous adversity to become one of the most highly regarded poets and authors of our time. She used her words to fight injustice and was active leader of the Civil Rights Movement, acquainted with both Dr King and Malcolm X.
But her works continue to ring true today. They are still a rallying cry for anyone fighting grave social evils, whether it is the GLBT community, or women straining to be heard over the din of male entitlement. If you have been at all active on social media platforms within the past month, you will undoubtedly have seen the hashtags #grabbed and #yesallwomen. And if you read them, you would have been shocked by the stories of daily abuse that women, modern American women, still face. Even more appalling was the response by men, who shouted down the stories as "attention-seeking" or "whiny", and then turned around to proclaim their own tales of woe and rejection at the hands of women, further proving that chauvinism is alive and well in this country.
Maya Angelou did not allow naysayers to defeat her. Her voice was not dimmed by those who disagreed with her. She triumphed over bigots and misogynists by never bowing to their demands, by refusing to sit quietly. As women, we must follow her strong example. We will never effect change by merely stating what has happened to us. We have to use our stories to educate others, and to enact real change. We are not crying for sympathy -- we are calling for the men of the world to look at what is happening to their wives, sisters, mothers, daughters, friends, and do something to help. They don't have to be monumental actions, but simple, personal things, like treating women in their lives with respect, as people, not as sexual objects to be owned, used, and discarded.
Women also are not above reproach. We too have a responsibility to be respectful of each other, to end slut-shaming. We cannot expect men to treat us with respect when we do not even afford each other or ourselves the same. We also cannot ask for men to listen to us if we are unwilling to open a dialogue with them. We have to be willing to respectfully listen to their views as well, no matter how much we disagree. Despite seeming convenience, we must avoid using sex as a weapon and any other manipulative tactics. These will only weaken our position, and make us no better than men who do the same.
I am proposing a revolution, but not a violent one; rather, a revolution based on respect and tolerance. Dr Angelou proposed the same. It was not easy, nor was it quick, and it continues to evolve today. However it will be effective and long-lasting, as long as there are people willing to work for it.
Thank you, Dr Angelou, for teaching us to overcome adversity, bigotry, and misogyny to find peace. Your voice, your words, will live on, as we fight injustice the world over. May you rest in peace.
But her works continue to ring true today. They are still a rallying cry for anyone fighting grave social evils, whether it is the GLBT community, or women straining to be heard over the din of male entitlement. If you have been at all active on social media platforms within the past month, you will undoubtedly have seen the hashtags #grabbed and #yesallwomen. And if you read them, you would have been shocked by the stories of daily abuse that women, modern American women, still face. Even more appalling was the response by men, who shouted down the stories as "attention-seeking" or "whiny", and then turned around to proclaim their own tales of woe and rejection at the hands of women, further proving that chauvinism is alive and well in this country.
Maya Angelou did not allow naysayers to defeat her. Her voice was not dimmed by those who disagreed with her. She triumphed over bigots and misogynists by never bowing to their demands, by refusing to sit quietly. As women, we must follow her strong example. We will never effect change by merely stating what has happened to us. We have to use our stories to educate others, and to enact real change. We are not crying for sympathy -- we are calling for the men of the world to look at what is happening to their wives, sisters, mothers, daughters, friends, and do something to help. They don't have to be monumental actions, but simple, personal things, like treating women in their lives with respect, as people, not as sexual objects to be owned, used, and discarded.
Women also are not above reproach. We too have a responsibility to be respectful of each other, to end slut-shaming. We cannot expect men to treat us with respect when we do not even afford each other or ourselves the same. We also cannot ask for men to listen to us if we are unwilling to open a dialogue with them. We have to be willing to respectfully listen to their views as well, no matter how much we disagree. Despite seeming convenience, we must avoid using sex as a weapon and any other manipulative tactics. These will only weaken our position, and make us no better than men who do the same.
I am proposing a revolution, but not a violent one; rather, a revolution based on respect and tolerance. Dr Angelou proposed the same. It was not easy, nor was it quick, and it continues to evolve today. However it will be effective and long-lasting, as long as there are people willing to work for it.
Thank you, Dr Angelou, for teaching us to overcome adversity, bigotry, and misogyny to find peace. Your voice, your words, will live on, as we fight injustice the world over. May you rest in peace.
Tuesday, May 06, 2014
A Plan for Fighting Writer's Block
I've been avoiding my blog for awhile for a very lame reason. I can't figure out what I want to say, much less how to say it. I feel like I should write more often, but every time I make time to try, my screen and I strike up a blank staring contest instead. (It wins.) Occasionally, I'll have a flash of inspiration --a funny anecdote, an important topic-- but then nothing gets transmitted from my brain to my fingers.
Perhaps I mentally set the bar too high for myself. Let's not kid around, I'm a mommy-blogger, not a Pulitzer-worthy journalist. But I prefer to actually want to read what I write. How can I ask other people to read something I consider dense, dull, and directionless?
A friend advised me to try writing through my writer's block, saving it, and editing out what I don't like. Problem is, even after filling a page, I'd read it a few days later and then delete everything I'd written while simultaneously bashing my head against the monitor. So my new approach is to write about my writing struggles.
This bit has flowed surprisingly well, primarily because I felt no pressure to write this. I just wanted to test an idea and had nothing to lose...except my writer's block.
Perhaps I mentally set the bar too high for myself. Let's not kid around, I'm a mommy-blogger, not a Pulitzer-worthy journalist. But I prefer to actually want to read what I write. How can I ask other people to read something I consider dense, dull, and directionless?
A friend advised me to try writing through my writer's block, saving it, and editing out what I don't like. Problem is, even after filling a page, I'd read it a few days later and then delete everything I'd written while simultaneously bashing my head against the monitor. So my new approach is to write about my writing struggles.
This bit has flowed surprisingly well, primarily because I felt no pressure to write this. I just wanted to test an idea and had nothing to lose...except my writer's block.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
"I Am the Face of PPD"
The following is part of a project spearheaded by Grey Rose Studio and Sacred Roots Holistic Community for Women to raise awareness of post-partum depression.
Sitting in a hospital room, alone, I looked out the window and wondered how it had all happened. I had been here before, well, not here exactly, but a place very similar. At that time, I was 21, had miscarried 4 months previously, and was so depressed I had convinced myself that somehow the miscarriage was my fault. I was suicidal and terrified. Following the advice of my doctor, I willingly admitted myself to the hospital to get help. An amazing team of nurses, therapists, and doctors diagnosed and treated me for post-partum depression.
I didn't understand; how could I have post-partum depression? I hadn't given birth. I lost my baby in the first trimester. This wasn't possible, or was it? I was assured that it was.
Several years later, my husband and I were expecting our first baby together. I told my midwife about my previous pregnancy and resulting hospitlization for post-partum depression. She recommended putting me on an antidepressant for the last 6 weeks of pregnancy. Our son was born without any serious complications, and I tried to settle into life as a new mommy.
But then the flashbacks of an assault from 2 years prior started. I would have entire conversations and not remember them happening at all. My parents offered to take care of the baby so I could get help again. One Saturday afternoon, which I don't remember, I had an "episode" and tried to kill myself. My husband found me, and called 911. They rushed me to the hospital and admitted me for treatment. And it was there that I thought over everything that had happened: the miscarriage, my inital diagnosis with PPD, the birth of my son, and then the resurfacing of traumatic memories.
This time the doctors diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress disorder, in addition to post-partum depression. I was released from the hospital in 2 days, and entered an intensive outpatient program for 2 weeks. My parents kept my son for me for several months until I was finally able to take care of myself again.
My husband was incredibly supportive. He stayed with me as much as he could, and even got a transfer with his company so he could work from home. He helped me readjust to being a person first, and then a mom. He knew that I would never be able to take care of our son, if I didn't take care of myself. At the time I struggled hard against that line of thinking. I felt like I had to put the care of my child above everything else. It has only been after years of therapy and practical experience that I finally understand that he is right. I can only be the best mom to my children if I am first caring for myself.
It has not been easy, and there are plenty of days that I still struggle, but I now have two happy, healthy boys. I fight to make time for myself at least once every week. I am so grateful for the support of my husband and my family, and the kindness of my therapist, who kept me on track the many times when I wanted to give up. I know my story isn't that uncommon, but while I was going through everything, I felt terribly alone. I hope that this can help other women, who are experiencing similar struggles, to know that they are not alone, that there is hope, and that they can feel okay again.
Sitting in a hospital room, alone, I looked out the window and wondered how it had all happened. I had been here before, well, not here exactly, but a place very similar. At that time, I was 21, had miscarried 4 months previously, and was so depressed I had convinced myself that somehow the miscarriage was my fault. I was suicidal and terrified. Following the advice of my doctor, I willingly admitted myself to the hospital to get help. An amazing team of nurses, therapists, and doctors diagnosed and treated me for post-partum depression.
I didn't understand; how could I have post-partum depression? I hadn't given birth. I lost my baby in the first trimester. This wasn't possible, or was it? I was assured that it was.
Several years later, my husband and I were expecting our first baby together. I told my midwife about my previous pregnancy and resulting hospitlization for post-partum depression. She recommended putting me on an antidepressant for the last 6 weeks of pregnancy. Our son was born without any serious complications, and I tried to settle into life as a new mommy.
But then the flashbacks of an assault from 2 years prior started. I would have entire conversations and not remember them happening at all. My parents offered to take care of the baby so I could get help again. One Saturday afternoon, which I don't remember, I had an "episode" and tried to kill myself. My husband found me, and called 911. They rushed me to the hospital and admitted me for treatment. And it was there that I thought over everything that had happened: the miscarriage, my inital diagnosis with PPD, the birth of my son, and then the resurfacing of traumatic memories.
This time the doctors diagnosed me with post-traumatic stress disorder, in addition to post-partum depression. I was released from the hospital in 2 days, and entered an intensive outpatient program for 2 weeks. My parents kept my son for me for several months until I was finally able to take care of myself again.
My husband was incredibly supportive. He stayed with me as much as he could, and even got a transfer with his company so he could work from home. He helped me readjust to being a person first, and then a mom. He knew that I would never be able to take care of our son, if I didn't take care of myself. At the time I struggled hard against that line of thinking. I felt like I had to put the care of my child above everything else. It has only been after years of therapy and practical experience that I finally understand that he is right. I can only be the best mom to my children if I am first caring for myself.
It has not been easy, and there are plenty of days that I still struggle, but I now have two happy, healthy boys. I fight to make time for myself at least once every week. I am so grateful for the support of my husband and my family, and the kindness of my therapist, who kept me on track the many times when I wanted to give up. I know my story isn't that uncommon, but while I was going through everything, I felt terribly alone. I hope that this can help other women, who are experiencing similar struggles, to know that they are not alone, that there is hope, and that they can feel okay again.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
New Book, New Year, New Ideas, Right?
I keep doing this thing, where I think out paragraphs of conversation in my head and don't say any of it. But I think maybe I should say them out loud, b/c it's important to get out what's going on in my mind. Otherwise I just occasionally say things that seem to everyone else to be completely random and/or crazy, when in actuality if I said everything I had been thinking up to that point, it wouldn't seem so totally out of line. I might make sense.
I'm considering picking up my blog again, the one about being a soccer mom, but I'm not entirely sure that's practical. Lately, it seems I'm increasingly concerned with the practical. How much does this cost? Is it really worth that? Can I really spend time doing that without feeling like it's a waste? I don't know why the sudden obsession with practicality. It's like I have to justify everything I do or, in many cases, don't do, now that I have another child.
My husband thinks I'm starved for human contact, and perhaps this is true. I'm a stay-at-home mom. I don't have a job any more, at least not a paying one that takes me out of the house. I have 2 little boys, a 4 year old and a 3 month old. They are my job. And I love being home with them.
But I would be lying if I said I didn't miss my old job. And I also miss contributing financially. My husband's income keeps us from being hungry and part of his job keeps a roof over our heads. Some days I stress about feeding us for 4 days with only $45, keeping in mind that a big chunk of that money has to go towards buying gas. I'm not saying this b/c I want charity or pity. I want to be able to work. But I can't work outside the house right now, not with the way things are with the boys. Maybe in a few years...in other words, an eternity.
I've been offered an opportunity for on-the-job training. A company will teach me a skill, while paying me a stipend, as long as I agree to work for them for 2 years. Only a few problems with this: 2 hour commute (each way), and I have no interest in the subject matter. If they were going to teach me to appraise art, or offer me photojournalism assignments, I'd be thrilled and say yes without any hesitation. On the other hand, it would be steady pay and get me out of the house. But I fear I would be bored out of my mind. Not that there'd be any difference from my current state of mind. Everything sounds inane and uninteresting. I don't want to do this or that or anything I can think of, but I also don't want to do nothing at all.
So I'm thinking of starting an intensive workout regimen. Something that requires no real equipment and costs no money. I had considered P90X but don't have $200 to buy the DVDs. Also everyone in my life thought it was crazy. And that forced me to reexamine my motivations. Well, #1 is body image, which has completely evaporated thanks to pregnancy and a C-section and breast feeding. Also my husband finds my best friend very attractive and she is built NOTHING like me physically. So even though he tells me he thinks I'm beautiful and sexy and I know he has no intention of cheating on me, I can't help but think if I was built like her, maybe what he says would be true.
This isn't to say that my husband is a bad man. In fact, I believe he is a wonderful man, a great father, a hard worker, and I know he loves me and our boys more than anyone else in the world. Which is why what I said in the previous paragraph is so incongruous to me. I struggle with this on a daily basis and try to reconcile it with the man I know. Mostly I just can't do it, so I start to take myself apart, piece by piece. And I realise just how terribly insecure I am. I want to be super mom...correction, supermodel mom. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, flawless style, chic yet functional, incredibly organized, health-conscious, thrifty, crafty, environmentally aware, spotless house, well-behaved kids who are socially conscious and compassionate, and yet thoroughly well-adjusted, playful, inquisitive boys. If I ever achieve all that, I believe I should be eligible for a Nobel Prize of some sort or at the very least a book deal.
I'm considering picking up my blog again, the one about being a soccer mom, but I'm not entirely sure that's practical. Lately, it seems I'm increasingly concerned with the practical. How much does this cost? Is it really worth that? Can I really spend time doing that without feeling like it's a waste? I don't know why the sudden obsession with practicality. It's like I have to justify everything I do or, in many cases, don't do, now that I have another child.
My husband thinks I'm starved for human contact, and perhaps this is true. I'm a stay-at-home mom. I don't have a job any more, at least not a paying one that takes me out of the house. I have 2 little boys, a 4 year old and a 3 month old. They are my job. And I love being home with them.
But I would be lying if I said I didn't miss my old job. And I also miss contributing financially. My husband's income keeps us from being hungry and part of his job keeps a roof over our heads. Some days I stress about feeding us for 4 days with only $45, keeping in mind that a big chunk of that money has to go towards buying gas. I'm not saying this b/c I want charity or pity. I want to be able to work. But I can't work outside the house right now, not with the way things are with the boys. Maybe in a few years...in other words, an eternity.
I've been offered an opportunity for on-the-job training. A company will teach me a skill, while paying me a stipend, as long as I agree to work for them for 2 years. Only a few problems with this: 2 hour commute (each way), and I have no interest in the subject matter. If they were going to teach me to appraise art, or offer me photojournalism assignments, I'd be thrilled and say yes without any hesitation. On the other hand, it would be steady pay and get me out of the house. But I fear I would be bored out of my mind. Not that there'd be any difference from my current state of mind. Everything sounds inane and uninteresting. I don't want to do this or that or anything I can think of, but I also don't want to do nothing at all.
So I'm thinking of starting an intensive workout regimen. Something that requires no real equipment and costs no money. I had considered P90X but don't have $200 to buy the DVDs. Also everyone in my life thought it was crazy. And that forced me to reexamine my motivations. Well, #1 is body image, which has completely evaporated thanks to pregnancy and a C-section and breast feeding. Also my husband finds my best friend very attractive and she is built NOTHING like me physically. So even though he tells me he thinks I'm beautiful and sexy and I know he has no intention of cheating on me, I can't help but think if I was built like her, maybe what he says would be true.
This isn't to say that my husband is a bad man. In fact, I believe he is a wonderful man, a great father, a hard worker, and I know he loves me and our boys more than anyone else in the world. Which is why what I said in the previous paragraph is so incongruous to me. I struggle with this on a daily basis and try to reconcile it with the man I know. Mostly I just can't do it, so I start to take myself apart, piece by piece. And I realise just how terribly insecure I am. I want to be super mom...correction, supermodel mom. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, flawless style, chic yet functional, incredibly organized, health-conscious, thrifty, crafty, environmentally aware, spotless house, well-behaved kids who are socially conscious and compassionate, and yet thoroughly well-adjusted, playful, inquisitive boys. If I ever achieve all that, I believe I should be eligible for a Nobel Prize of some sort or at the very least a book deal.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Not the best day
The monster that I birthed is sick with a nasty cold, so he can't go to school. But of course he's feeling well enough to wreak havoc on me and the house. I can't go to work b/c he's home sick, so I attempted to make things go well today, but they did not. Perhaps I should have tried harder. Maybe setting up a painting table and drawing with markers wasn't enough. I probably should have broken out the clay and potter's wheel too. (Okay, that's not fair. We don't have either of those things.) But I do feel like I made an effort today, and it didn't matter. It seems like no matter how hard I try to keep things neat, to entertain him, to run the house, it's never quite enough. And as far as he's concerned, I cannot entertain him, but he and I still expect me to do so.
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