Posts Tagged Respect

The stuff that gets in the way.

So, I have a confession: I have been having a hard time keeping my shit together lately.  See also: Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis (fatigue, joint pain, muscle weakness, hair loss, and more!), See also: Miscarriage Anniversary Looming, See also: Financial Distress, See also: Marital Issues, See also: I’m a headcase.

And it is true that I have had something like Writer’s Block for some time.  I have long spaces of time when I believe I have nothing to say that you will be interested in reading.  I sit down and think, “Surely I can come up with something!” And I open a text file and I stare at it, thinking.  Nothing comes.  Nothing is worth coming.

Then, other nights, I write things, posts, in text files and then I do not publish them.  Because they suck.  You would think they are stupid. (So I tell myself.) This would be more like Sharer’s Block? Blogging Anxiety? I Suckaphobia?

And then there are all the things that won’t come when I sit down to write them to you because there are other things that block them – things I can’t talk to you about.  What I mean by that is I have issues I WANT to share with you, but it feels weird to talk about this thing when I know I haven’t told you about thoooose things.

Do I write about those things?  Hell yes I do.  Is the writing good?  I think so.  Will I share it with you?

I can’t.

Some things you just can’t post to the world because they aren’t only yours to post, does that make sense?

But the more of those things that I have, the harder it gets for me to come here and talk to you about everything else, like my friends.  That’s kind of how I’ve always felt when writing these posts.  I know it’s somewhat silly to think that way, and I’m not trying to be mushy and sentimental to win you over.  It’s just the tone I always feel inside when I write to YOU.

This is not an academic essay I’m writing – though I can write those, I’ve completed tons of them in my time, and none too shabby, I’ll have you know.  It’s not a performance piece, where I just need to elicit emotion with whatever works.  It’s not fiction, where I can spin any tale just to delight.  It isn’t a review, where all I really have to do is lay out the way it works and what I think of it.

It’s an ongoing conversation I’m having with you about my life.

When there are bumps that invariably happen from my life intersecting with the lives of others, sometimes I can’t talk about those bumps.  Because it’s not my place to have the conversation that they might or might not want to have with you about THEIR lives.

So then, I guess I just have to say, Friends, there is(are) something(s) that is(are) affecting me in some way(s) that we can’t talk about.  And now I have to find a path around that(them) so I can keep talking to you about my other life stuff.

And that’s hard for me to do.  I’m emotional and the things I experience have a way of leaking and spilling out onto the rest of my life.  I should learn to compartmentalize more.  I don’t know.

And maybe this whole thing seems STUPID to you, because “DUH, LOTUS. We ALL have things we keep to ourselves.  We ALL have stories we don’t tell everyone.  Hell, most people don’t feel the need to tell everyone half the shit you think the world needs to know.  I mean, really, you tell us practically every time you have your period. GET A FILTER.”  And OKAY, FINE.  But the thing is, I’m still developing as a writer and a blogger.  This place defined itself to me from the start as My Blog: Where I Tell You What Runs Through My Head.  My idea of “what this is” has changed.  I can’t tell you what runs through my head when I’d have to tell you that Mr. C did horrible thing Y and I want to strangle his face until it turns blue and falls off.  Because you know, Mr. C has privacy rights.   I can’t tell you that I have a constant issue with Problem ABC and I think it’s because Mrs. W did batshit crazy thing X and it impacted me in a really profound way.

I can tell you about how I feel, but I can’t always tell you why. And that’s kind of douchey.  But Mr. C and Mrs. W own their own stuff, and I can’t tell it for them.

My family and friends have privacy rights.  Those assholes.

So let’s just say, that among other things, it’s taking me time, in fits and spurts to keep telling you my stories without telling you their stories.

Maybe one day there will be a time to talk about those things.  Perhaps there never will.  I’m trying to find a way to be okay with that and hoping I can just move past it.

I’m learning that it IS okay not to tell you everything (zomg) but I have to say it out loud for some reason.  I think, if I say this out loud right now, it’s going to help me move this block.

For now, maybe just saying to you that I’ll tell you most of everything, but not some stuff, will help me climb over this boulder, that mountain, and occasionally kick those rocks out of my way, so we can keep walking this path together.

I mean, it would be such a shame to miss the colors this season with you.  The foliage is so beautiful just up ahead.

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I just won’t shut up about it, I know.

Yup, it’s another long one, folks. 

While I was writing this post the other day, my thoughts kept reaching further and expanding and dividing and growing.  

I want to take a moment, first, to make sure you all realize that I did not mean to put down working parents at all.  What they do is just as much their decision about what is right for them/their families as the choice to stay at home is my decision about what is right for myself, Braden, and John, and I really respect that.  Hell, sometimes it’s not even their “choice” so much as they just have to do it.  What I really wanted to get across in that post was the point that I wish we could sing Kumbaya and just support one another as parents, no matter what the shape of our lives is (or even WHY our lives are that particular shape). 

I saw this point made excellently by Miss Britt’s Mother when she said,

“Having been both, I can tell you that SAHM’s suffer pangs of guilt and envy – whether they admit or not – because they’re not “contributing” financially to their families and their lives are “boring” – while working moms experience the agonies of the damned because they “don’t spend enough time” with their kids or “put their kids first”.

What would be better would be for PARENTS to have more compassion for each other, and respect for each other’s decisions for what works in THEIR lives, without justifying those decisions, without bashing the decisions of others.” 

(By the way, I just found Miss Britt’s site recently, and if you haven’t read her yet, you really should – she is damn delightful – funny, intelligent, well-written, and real.)

When I read the above quote, I felt like I was nodding my proverbial head so freakin’ hard that it was going to fall off and roll across the room.  Because it strikes to the heart of the matter about us all picking and bitching about one another’s choices.

That being said, I wanted to expand on something that hit my brain while I was writing that other post.

In talking about how I may discuss “Mommy” things endlessly here, and kind of defending that, I was also talking about how I am not “just” a mommy.  But I started thinking about the women out there who really do define themselves as Moms first and foremost, and care about little else.  And I was wondering, why, exactly, do we demonize them for that?

For the record, I do think it is very healthy to have interests in your life that do not involve your spouse or your children.  My amateur photography is such a thing for me, and while I definitely take photos of my kid and hubby, it’s not really about them, and I take tons of other photos.  And while I post on my website primarily about my family (but not exclusively) the exercise of writing all of this is really for me.  (With the added benefit of it all becoming a catalogue of our lives.)  I also write poetry and prose in my free time (hahaha, free time, I know) but I don’t share those things, generally.  Just a creative outlet.  It’s nice to have hobbies and activities that you enjoy to engage in.  I feel that it is energizing and fulfilling to leave your house without your children or husband occasionally and do things that you enjoy. 

BUT.

I see/hear people refer to women who are “mothers and nothing else” occassionally.  And it’s a completely negative tone they are taking when they make that reference.  These types of statements usually lead to a stream of insults of those women, and their decisions - complete, judgemental BS about what these people have chosen to do with their lives.  

To illustrate why I find this ridiculous, would you say, “She’s just a lawyer.  She is totally obsessed with being a really good one, and she doesn’t make time for anything else.  Isn’t that just sick?”  Probably not.  Being a lawyer is something we accept as having an occupation one should be driven to completely master and immerse oneself in.  Being a Mommy is often looked at as just this thing we do to keep the species alive (anyone can pop out offspring, right?).  Don’t you dare consider it something you must master and immerse yourself in!  That’s just sick!

I wanted to say that if there are women out there who choose to identify completely with being a mother, and that is the life that they feel happy living (I think that part is key here), who are any of us to judge them as not having a “real identity?” Mommies who spend “too much” time thinking about their children are just missing out on being well-rounded women, no?  They must have it all wrong because they are not living the same lives as others, right?  How completely ignorant is that way of thinking, would you say? 

If there are women who feel they were born to be “Mommies,” and consequently throw themselves into fulfilling that destiny passionately and completely, do we think they are wasting their time?  Do we label them a shell of a person?  When their kids grow up, they won’t know what to do with themselves, right? 

You wouldn’t say that if I replaced the word “Mommies” with “Teachers,” “Doctors,” or “Chefs.”  But, um, these would all retire at some point, too, and have to “figure out what to do with themselves,” right?  What’s the difference really, other than monetary payoff?

When a Teacher, Doctor, or Chef retires, we typcially think of them as having time to themselves to pursue some other activity that they may have always wanted to pursue, right?  Maybe they travel, learn to play the tuba, or take a pottery class.  Whatever.  We don’t typically think of them fretting and becoming a complete wreck of a person because all their students, patients, or patrons are “gone.”

When a Mother’s children leave the nest, she may well say, “Well, that station in my life has ended, and I did a damn good job!  I am fackin’ proud of what I accomplished, and while I may, at times, miss actively being a Mommy, I have so many excellent memories.  Now, I’m going to insert new interest, goal, achievement, desire, hobby, or life’s dream.

Besides, there are always grandkids, right?  And that’s where the real fun starts, isn’t it, ladies? ;-)

So, how about we drink up a dose of respecting the choices others make, even if they’re not the right ones for us?  I know I’ve had to do that plenty of times in my life – and, like real medicine, it doesn’t always taste so great, but it will do you good.

We all have the capacity to adapt – to grow and change.  Let’s all remember that.


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