“The moment a woman comes home to herself, the moment she knows that she has become a person of influence, an artist of her life, a sculptor of her universe, a person with rights and responsibilities who is respected and recognized, the resurrection of the world begins.” ~Joan Chittister
It seems that for about two years I was amazing at writing blog posts. Did it at least once a week…. then last April I stopped. I tried to take some pictures of amazing crafts I made around the house, but seriously I am a writer, not a crafty picture taker of anything (No matter how amazing my craftsmanship is ;). So what happened? Where and why did I fall into this bog of eternal stench? Here let me ramble for a bit….
I have a million and one ideas of what to write about and find myself writing those posts in my head, never quite making it to paper (or in this technological day, blogspot). So where have I been? This is a good question and one my therapist and I have been working on since August. Lol. Yes, I have a therapist. Have you met me?? Seriously. I am beginning to wonder how mothers make it through their weekly events without one! Moms need to take care of themselves. Haven’t you noticed that when you are lacking in sleep, the house is a mess, the damn dog has pooped in the girls room and you are huddled in a ball at the end of the stairs bawling, the kids are in a high stress level as well. Moms seem to be the center of the house, the stability that brings either the crazies in or out. Duh, like I didn’t know that growing up being the oldest of 10 kids.
I think my problems started by chance at the beginning of the year when I found out my cousin had cancer… after a really good and strong battle he passed away leaving his five kids and wife in July. I have never totally had a lack of control situation in which I couldn’t predict or take charge of the outcome. Let me tell you, it sucks. Then in March or April, a girl in my neighborhood committed suicide. I can’t say I knew her or maybe that I took the time to know her, but it was just another layer of my fears unfolding. In my defense, she was one of my top blog readers. Every time I wrote a post she would comment on it and then I just questioned what is the point, she won’t respond. To some degree I felt like a failure. Does a written word ever mean anything? What am I writing for?
I honestly didn’t realize how much I was affected by these situations until I completely drop the 5,000 balls I usually juggle all at once (Using the term “throwing a wrench in it” makes a bit more sense now). Somehow my world was falling apart very quickly and I just froze… Totally out of character. Nothing made sense and I , for once in my life, I had no idea how to handle anything. I had stayed so busy so that the truth and pain in my life wasn’t able to catch up. So now, here I am an educated mother of 3 with absolutely no answers. I had friends family and an amazing husband, but was completely alone. I was dismissing joy because of the what if’s.
Four sessions into my therapy we watched a video from Brene Brown on YouTube called “The Price of Invulnerability”. Now for any youngsters who are reading this, when I was growing up in the 90’s, we actually had to talk about our problems or write it in a note we passed during Math class. I never was taught to take my words, write them down, and post them on Twitter or Facebook. So I guess this might be a generational problem or maybe a non-techie savvy type personality. I don’t write down aspects of my life that make me vulnerable. I want people to see me being strong. While I do lack a bit of tack when it comes to speaking, oh heck, it is never enough to show I am vulnerable. I guess I can see now that I suffer from “fatality syndrome”. I was forcasting what could of, would of happened so I wouldn’t feel the hurt.
Watch the first few minutes of this video to see what I am talking about…
I totally have always closed off the parts that make me vulnerable to others, even my husband, which in turn shut off my ability to be happy and find joy. I didn’t want to ask my friends for help – they would see that I am not perfect. I didn’t want to ask my family for help – they were already had enough problems of their own. How could I turn to my husband who saw me as a person who could handle everything? You see, I had a fatalistic response for everything. I couldn’t be vulnerable because I didn’t want to feel the pain... I had “to beat vulnerability to the punch”. That is why I stopped blogging, nobody reads what I write anyways so why bother.
So now I have decided to be vulnerable. I am learning to love who I am and be happy just because I am happy... enjoying the moment. I am learning how to be ordinary and hopefully that will just be my extraordinary. So my posts will be weekly, because writing makes me happy and if nobody posts a comment, that is okay. I am doing something that I like to do and while this writing might not save the world, it will save me.
