Tag: my story

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Motherhood

I’m cleaning tables at a cafe where I volunteer regularly and there’s a couple moms with their little ones. One of them is about to nurse her baby. It’s a little baby, still in that “feed me right now” frantic stage. Not crying, or even making a fuss, but as a mom having been there many times, if she doesn’t get the latch down right away, things could become a lot more frantic, real quick!

Don’t get me wrong, I am so grateful for the time I had to be with each of my girls, but I do not miss those frantic moments, sore nipples, wondering if people are watching me, wondering if I’ll ever feel like I’m getting it right. Oh my goodness, so many thoughts went through my head in those moments, but mostly it was the fear of failing, of getting it “wrong”.

Motherhood brings up a lot, I guess parenthood in general, but since I’m only a mom and I can only relate from my own experience, I’ll just talk about motherhood. No matter how confident you were before, you suddenly start to wonder if you’re “doing it right”, “getting it right”. Suddenly all the things you judged your own mom for not having done better become crystal clear and you find yourself wondering how she was able to do everything she did. Suddenly my own mom seems superhuman… Or is that just me?

Do other women feel this way? Do we all ask ourselves these questions?

It’s been a few years. I’ve had four babies. I’ve learned a few things, most of the time I still feel like I have a lot to learn. Mostly, what feels best is that I’ve learned about myself.

When I find myself worrying that I’m “getting it wrong”, I remind myself that my kids came to Me. They could have been born to any other mom, but they came to me because I have exactly what their souls were also looking for when they came to this life. I remember that it must have been the same for me and then traumas don’t feel like traumas anymore because I know I was exactly where I needed to be to learn what I need to learn. To grow and evolve and offer a different lesson to myself, to my family and essentially to the world.

I’ve learned that I’m amazing in my own way. I may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I have an energy that draws people to me, other people who are also looking for growth, people who are not afraid of challenges and not afraid to challenge me to grow as well.

Sometimes letting go is hard, but I have an amazing capacity to forgive and be compassionate. Mostly, it’s hard to let go of guilt, that it’s somehow my fault, that I could have done better. Maybe I could have, but it’s also ok to make mistakes and to love myself through that. I apologize and take responsibility when I’m wrong. I look to innerstand which button got pushed and how can I soften that trigger; what is it actually touching that hurts? I examine myself and ask if, when I “got it wrong”, was I BEing in my highest integrity? Was I operating out of love? And if the answer is Yes, it can’t possibly be wrong. If the answer is no, I look to come back to Love. Come back to the Authoritative Love that is my guiding principle, my way of BEing. It’s all I can do and It. Is. Enough.

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What Story?

For the longest time, I didn’t think I had a story. No major traumas, no near death experiences, no escaping from a cult or whatever else makes an “amazing” story. I thought I was too ordinary to have a story that anyone would want to know about. Ordinary compared to what?

That was the problem, I was comparing myself and my story to others. Trauma is relative, and because I had grown up under a veil of shame I don’t even think I realized I had traumas for the longest time. Living with that much shame is a trauma in itself I think, but I’ll get into that in another post.

Another aspect of my hesitancy is that I don’t want to be a victim. I don’t want to be seen or labeled as a victim by anyone else because I don’t feel like one, at least not anymore. Sometimes, when I think about telling my story, I imagine other moms reading it thinking “oh that poor girl, if only…” focusing on how tragically pathetic I was and how I needed to be saved. I don’t want anyone’s pity. I just want to be seen. I want others to be able to read my story and realize that the kid, teenage girl, or the young woman, they are secretly or not so secretly judging––assuming she knows she’s wasting her potential, or assuming she’s making stupid choices on purpose––is maybe just floundering around in life, feeling invisible and in need of some love and guidance. She doesn’t need your pity, she needs your authenticity.

I just believed that all the stuff that happened to me or the things I experienced in my life were a result of my own clueless naivete and that if I hadn’t been so stupid none of it would have happened. And maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t disqualify me from having a story and needing to tell it. After all, I’ve learned from it, maybe someone else can too.

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Becoming a Writer

It has become quite apparent to me within the past 6 that I need to write and share my story.

So, I took a brief, but very useful and encouraging, writing course online with Reid Tracy and Kelly Notaras. Then, I bought Kelly Notaras book, The Book You Were Born to Write. She says in order to be a writer all you really need to do is write; you need a writing practice. In the book, she acknowledges her hope that the reader would write something after each section.

The truth is, I had made my 100 Days commitment even before I’d take the writing course or started reading her book. And, I’ve already written probably two posts about how I’ve been slacking off on this commitment. It’s probably not realistic to write everyday when you have small children around-–that was probably the most common excuse I was telling myself. And although it’s valid, it’s still an excuse. Then I was procrastinating my writing because the things I have to say are not always the easiest to write about––but who cares? No one is reading this blog right now, no one but me! “Stop making excuses!” I tell myself.

But then I remind myself about the physics of progress; and knowing the way I am, I need to establish a writing habit first and then get into the nitty gritty stuff, while allowing space for the nitty gritty to flow naturally whenever that is the case.

So, here I go, practising: Today I read about the difference between traditional publishing and self-publishing and what’s involved in each avenue. Regardless of which avenue I pursue, it’s evident to me that I need to begin, or rather resume, building my audience. Though, with self-publishing this is less of a deterrent as I can start and publish without having a large audience; traditional publishers, because of the way the business works now, they basically won’t even look in your direction if you don’t bring a large audience to the table.

Given that I feel pretty shy about telling my story, I would probably prefer writing it without a huge audience at first, I really like to process my own thoughts before sharing them. Either way, it’s a beast. Writing a book, is a big undertaking. It’s also a path of self-discovery and that is what I’m most looking forward to. That, and all the people I will meet and get to know along the way!

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Messy House, Clean Heart

I have a lot to say. Typically it’s deep stuff, not your first-date kind of conversation. I’ve noticed a lot of people don’t like this or can’t handle it; I get it, it’s not comfortable looking at stuff that challenges your belief systems. I’m not saying this to imply that I’m better than anyone or that I’ve got it all figured out, but I’ve learned how to lean in. To lean in and look at what’s behind that discomfort.

This morning, a lot of great stuff came up during my morning exercise/meditation routine that I wanted to write about and I was going to get to that as soon as the kids were off to school. But then, I started cleaning my kitchen. “Just quickly get the dishes into the dishwasher and clear the sink,” I told myself. But that turned into washing all the dishes that couldn’t go into the dishwasher, wiping down all the countertops, stove and table and sweeping, etc. I noticed I was procrastinating. I was putting off writing about all those things that are so important to me. Why? Because looking at stuff that challenges your belief systems is uncomfortable and I’ve struggled nearly all my life to believe that I matter.

Putting my thoughts down in writing makes them more tangible and real and only people who are smart enough or qualified enough (compared to who?) deserve to have a voice. At least that’s what I’ve struggled with: believing in myself; believing that I’m enough.

What if I fail miserably? What if I’m misunderstood? What if nobody even notices? So many what if’s, but the bottom line is this: the only thing that’s going to help me overcome the fear of not being good enough is to do the very thing I’m afraid I’m not good enough to do.

Even if, as I write these posts, no one else is reading them, there will come a day when others do see it. That is, after all, why I’m doing this, teaching myself how to tell my story and how to talk about it in a way that might benefit others or save them from going through the same crap. I have learned and been impacted by other people’s stories, and so it matters––my story is important.

I was using my clean house as a way to feel as though I’d accomplished something. Instead what I noticed is that I would have a cleaner house but I would still feel unaccomplished at the end of the day because I wasn’t doing the things that really matter; what I came here to do. I’d have a cleaner house but my heart would feel cluttered and weighed down with all the dreams I’ve left there tangled amongst the weeds of everyday life. And now I’m realizing I’d rather have a messy house and a clean heart. And, as I begin to cultivate those dreams and coax them out of my heart and into reality, the rest will follow.

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Writing My Story

I have recently begun a writing workshop, a 7-day book writing challenge by Hay House. I have been meaning to start writing my story since last fall as part of a business program I had committed to. But every time I determined to do it I would inevitably have all kinds of other things to do; my procrastination pattern I mentioned in a previous post was trying to rear its ugly head.

After Day One of the writing challenge, my story is pouring out of me. I have only begun to dictate bits and pieces in my Notes app as they come to me, but this is more than I have done, ever.

Four days before the writing challenge started, I wrote down my goals for this year; one of those goals was to write my story. One week before writing down my goals, I registered for the Hay House writing challenge–something a dear friend sent to me. And exactly one month before that, I made my commitment to write a blog post everyday for 100 days. This is the physics of progress, as one of my mentors would say. I’m biting off pieces that I can chew. I’m taking action and as my mentor always says, action breeds clarity, clarity breeds awareness, and awareness breeds certainty. Each step I take brings me closer to what I want. Each action I take brings me more clarity. And because I’ve set my intention, (and written it down to make it real), more opportunities keep flowing to me. Everytime I make another move that I know is congruent with where I want to go, my story becomes more and more clear to me. For the longest time, I didn’t think I even had a story, not one anybody would be interested in anyway. I was much too ordinary and insignificant to have a story. How many of you feel this way?

There are parts of my story that I am not looking forward to writing. I know it will be therapeutic, and it’s necessary for my growth and healing. There are things that, had I known then what I know now, I would have done differently. But, it is finally time to talk about those things, because I suspect that many of us have those things that we feel we can’t talk about. No matter how big or small, significant or insignificant they seem in our own eyes or in the eyes of others, we all have those moments that we wish we could undo, or do better; the coveted do-over. If I can talk about my stuff, I can empower you to talk about your stuff; to forgive yourself and learn to know and love yourself so that you too can empower others to know and love themselves and we can have a world full of people who truly love themselves.