Who determines what is considered moral and what is considered immoral? For most, it is decided early on by an outside influence or set of influences. If you grew up going to church your moral compass was created by your specific religious leaders. "Thou shalt not...", varying bibles, prophets from ancient and modern times: these are the designers of a vast number of human's morality maps. For others,their parents were the gods of their lores. Whatever they grew up with in the household became law. Then there are those who grow up to adopt an entirely opposite moral code than their parents for the sole purpose of rebellion and clearly asserting their independence. But this is still because of an outside influence. Some have been more influenced by media, authors, celebrity, or advertisements. Others still by their specific nation's set of laws and social norms. We get handed our morality on an invisible platter and then we fight to defend it, or get saturated in guilt and shame for breaking it...our entire lives.
So, my question is "What is Morality?" Merriam-Webster dictionary defines it as "a moral discourse, statement, or lesson", Moral as "of or relating to principles of right and wrong in behavior: Ethical" and Ethical as "conforming to accepted standard of conduct". So we start off very broadly and end with a blatant definition of conforming to norms. Then who determines norms? This is a never-ending worm hole with no real truths.
The next big question to ask is, who determines your morality? Is it you? Can you honestly say that? Can you say you came up with your own rulebook alone? Of course some would say it is an amalgamation of cultural influences, upbringing, media, experiences, traumas, country of origin, and religion...perhaps even brain structure that determine your specific moral code. And they would be correct.
So, in all of this awareness, how do we change this? How do we create our own, individualistic, creative, conscious, self-determined, experiential moral system? Also, how do we balance this without losing sight of a moral sense of responsibility to the whole (Of course this opens up another set of endless questions: are we inherently empathic and compassionate or is this a learned behavior etc.). I'm sure some out there have figured this out and are living from their own map right now (Oprah get it girl). Since I am not one of those people (yet) I am coming up with my own ideas on this complex and often difficult process.
I say start by doing nothing. Go blank. Meditate until your moral code has been sent into outer space. You will need a clean canvas. Working with a therapist is another initial step in the "Anarcho-morality" movement (do I need to hashtag that shit?). Feel all of your emotions, past and present. Welcome them. Allow them all to arise and bubble to the surface in order to evaporate. Endlessly question. Never determine anything as inherently right or wrong. Question everything. Deeply. Then dive ever deeper. When you naturally realize you don't know anything and you never have...then you are ready for the creation process. I suggest you be in this blankness a while, in this yin space, and then, once guided by intuition, begin again. Birth your own story, your own laws. Learn from your array of life experiences and figure out what is truly important to you. Use your intuition as this is your true moral compass and its built right in (ruby slippers anyone?). See what comes to mind, what inspires and enlivens you. Where are you of service or where can you be? Go into the forest, step into the rivers, ask the trees. They are wise and more generous than you could ever imagine (and they're strong mother fuckers). There, you will find your authenticity. Your inherent worth not determined by anything you do or don't do or how moral you are or are not, but solely by your existence. You are therefore you are worthy (haha sounding very new age here!). You will discover You, probably for the first time since early childhood, and you will know how to be in this world. You will know true love and move forward in and as that love. I suppose that is my definition of morality.
This leads us to the ever important question, who am I? To be determined.
Sunday, June 23, 2019
Friday, May 3, 2019
Horns in the Breeze
My son and I took a mini road trip today. Went on an adventure as we have often done throughout his six years of life on this amazing planet. We are explorers at heart and it has been a while since we went beyond the boundaries of our home city and our daily routines.
It has been a difficult year to say the least. Circumstantially nothing was blatantly wrong or terrible. Actually just the opposite. We live in a great city, in a wonderful neighborhood, in a cute home. We are basically healthy. My son attends an amazing school that I have dreamed of since he was in the womb. We both have wonderful friends and family who love us both near and far. Anyone looking in from the outside would think we were at peace, finally, after many trying and traumatic life events. But, alas, things are not always as they seem. At least not as they seem on social media to which I am self-admittedly addicted.
This year has been the worst of my life thus far. Not because of any outside influences or events. There have been stressors, of course. Being a single parent is a daily push and pull..always worrying I am messing up and not doing and/or being enough. Always reaching that sharp edge where I feel I could split in two at any moment. But I/ we get through each time and our bond is only strengthened. My son started kindergarten this year and, having so much alone time after almost six years of next to none has not been as freeing as expected. It has, instead, brought up an array of long-repressed emotions that I had been running away from for so long. A deep well of grief finally bubbled to the surface. I also came off of antidepressants in November after months-long attempts and withdrawals. So...as I spent time with my inner, darker worlds, I felt all that backwash of emotion. It was not easy. It was the most difficult journey I have taken to date. Recently, however, I felt a shift in my psyche. Long forgotten parts of me began to resurface and reintegrate. I started to smile again, to feel the sun on my face, to laugh with my son from my belly, to hope for the future just slightly.
And then there was today.
Destination: Greenville, South Carolina. I had heard so many people mention this city over the years. Only an hour south of us just across the state line, but I had never managed to make it there. So, we planned on a day off from school. Packed a backpack with cashews and water and headed south. It was much larger than I expected. The tree-lined streets downtown were reminiscent of Charleston, but I noticed a lighter feel immediately. I anxiously found parking and we began our stroll. A perfect stroll on a perfect day. Never rushed. Always time for pause and spontaneity. My son has reached an age where walking has become more normal paced and less whiny than in previous years. I love this so much. We walked down to the park first, stopping to throw wishes in fountains. We only saw part of the magic and headed back to Main street. We stopped to get hot dogs at a stand (veggie for me). My son ate his in a fury and stated "that was the best hot dog I've ever tasted"! We sat on a bench and listened to a man play the accordion from across the lovely street. I felt as though he played for just the two of us in that moment. We continued to meander, taking in all the sights along the way. Flowers, fountains, shade, sun peaking through the trees. We stopped in a toy store and got a trinket, then continued on our way. Then we headed to the children's museum. It was one of the best we have visited. We stayed for hours. My son made fast friends as he always does. I took photos and felt the joy of his experience. I love this. Feeling joy through another human that you love more deeply than you could have ever imagined. We headed back to Maine street and they were setting up a street festival.I promised we would return to the children's games being set up on the street after dinner. My son picked a creperie and we sat outside in the gorgeous shade. We watched a variety of people pass by. From women wearing fancy dresses to women in head scarfs to gorgeous black men to students laughing. Couples of all ages holding hands. A young Johnny Depp looking waiter recommended a glass of wine and brought us mouth watering food. All seemed to move in slow motion as I chatted with my son and we ate our food gratefully. Each passing moment seemed better than the last. We finished and headed back up to the games, as promised. We played corn hole as a band played "My Girl" and "Stand By Me" in the background. We headed to get our map of the hidden bronze mice throughout the city. My son said this was his favorite part of the day...searching for small statues of mice based on obscure clues. I loved that he loved it. We continued southward, across the big bridge and down to the river. Pure magic lived here. Strolled by us and held our hands by the river. We sat on a swing seat and felt the breeze. We walked across the suspension bridge as the suns set in the southern sky and looked at the beauty of the waterfalls below. Horns seemed to float in the breeze. Children played, bikers rode by, a man sat on a brick wall rocking out to his r & b tunes...lost in the music and free for that moment. Couples, again, held hands and solo walkers gazed into the distance. This, I thought, is romance. A love affair with a place. I was in love.
We headed back, now exhausted but completely fulfilled. I asked my son if he had a fun day. A simple "yes" and a squeeze of the hand was the perfect ending to this lovely day. This new beginning.
It has been a difficult year to say the least. Circumstantially nothing was blatantly wrong or terrible. Actually just the opposite. We live in a great city, in a wonderful neighborhood, in a cute home. We are basically healthy. My son attends an amazing school that I have dreamed of since he was in the womb. We both have wonderful friends and family who love us both near and far. Anyone looking in from the outside would think we were at peace, finally, after many trying and traumatic life events. But, alas, things are not always as they seem. At least not as they seem on social media to which I am self-admittedly addicted.
This year has been the worst of my life thus far. Not because of any outside influences or events. There have been stressors, of course. Being a single parent is a daily push and pull..always worrying I am messing up and not doing and/or being enough. Always reaching that sharp edge where I feel I could split in two at any moment. But I/ we get through each time and our bond is only strengthened. My son started kindergarten this year and, having so much alone time after almost six years of next to none has not been as freeing as expected. It has, instead, brought up an array of long-repressed emotions that I had been running away from for so long. A deep well of grief finally bubbled to the surface. I also came off of antidepressants in November after months-long attempts and withdrawals. So...as I spent time with my inner, darker worlds, I felt all that backwash of emotion. It was not easy. It was the most difficult journey I have taken to date. Recently, however, I felt a shift in my psyche. Long forgotten parts of me began to resurface and reintegrate. I started to smile again, to feel the sun on my face, to laugh with my son from my belly, to hope for the future just slightly.
And then there was today.
Destination: Greenville, South Carolina. I had heard so many people mention this city over the years. Only an hour south of us just across the state line, but I had never managed to make it there. So, we planned on a day off from school. Packed a backpack with cashews and water and headed south. It was much larger than I expected. The tree-lined streets downtown were reminiscent of Charleston, but I noticed a lighter feel immediately. I anxiously found parking and we began our stroll. A perfect stroll on a perfect day. Never rushed. Always time for pause and spontaneity. My son has reached an age where walking has become more normal paced and less whiny than in previous years. I love this so much. We walked down to the park first, stopping to throw wishes in fountains. We only saw part of the magic and headed back to Main street. We stopped to get hot dogs at a stand (veggie for me). My son ate his in a fury and stated "that was the best hot dog I've ever tasted"! We sat on a bench and listened to a man play the accordion from across the lovely street. I felt as though he played for just the two of us in that moment. We continued to meander, taking in all the sights along the way. Flowers, fountains, shade, sun peaking through the trees. We stopped in a toy store and got a trinket, then continued on our way. Then we headed to the children's museum. It was one of the best we have visited. We stayed for hours. My son made fast friends as he always does. I took photos and felt the joy of his experience. I love this. Feeling joy through another human that you love more deeply than you could have ever imagined. We headed back to Maine street and they were setting up a street festival.I promised we would return to the children's games being set up on the street after dinner. My son picked a creperie and we sat outside in the gorgeous shade. We watched a variety of people pass by. From women wearing fancy dresses to women in head scarfs to gorgeous black men to students laughing. Couples of all ages holding hands. A young Johnny Depp looking waiter recommended a glass of wine and brought us mouth watering food. All seemed to move in slow motion as I chatted with my son and we ate our food gratefully. Each passing moment seemed better than the last. We finished and headed back up to the games, as promised. We played corn hole as a band played "My Girl" and "Stand By Me" in the background. We headed to get our map of the hidden bronze mice throughout the city. My son said this was his favorite part of the day...searching for small statues of mice based on obscure clues. I loved that he loved it. We continued southward, across the big bridge and down to the river. Pure magic lived here. Strolled by us and held our hands by the river. We sat on a swing seat and felt the breeze. We walked across the suspension bridge as the suns set in the southern sky and looked at the beauty of the waterfalls below. Horns seemed to float in the breeze. Children played, bikers rode by, a man sat on a brick wall rocking out to his r & b tunes...lost in the music and free for that moment. Couples, again, held hands and solo walkers gazed into the distance. This, I thought, is romance. A love affair with a place. I was in love.
We headed back, now exhausted but completely fulfilled. I asked my son if he had a fun day. A simple "yes" and a squeeze of the hand was the perfect ending to this lovely day. This new beginning.
Wednesday, February 20, 2019
Rot
Right now, I am a decaying leaf
Let me be
I have been a bud before; full of potential and hope
I have grown, transformed, and blown in the breeze
I have endured storms, been shit on by birds, clung on for dear life
I have felt the coming of the season of death
I have watched others fall and perish
I have died and been reborn, over and over
This is the season of rot
Let me lie
Do not rake me up with your affirmations
Do to try to keep my color with your praise
Do not pick me up and place me in your pocket...
hoping for a resurrection
I am gone
Leave me dead
I will return to the ground; reborn in the spring
But I will be different
Maybe a blade of grass, a fungi, a sprig of moss
No longer a leaf
Let me change
Watch the miraculous rebirth from a distance
Take photos with your phone
Love that I exist at all
...But leave me still.
Let me be
I have been a bud before; full of potential and hope
I have grown, transformed, and blown in the breeze
I have endured storms, been shit on by birds, clung on for dear life
I have felt the coming of the season of death
I have watched others fall and perish
I have died and been reborn, over and over
This is the season of rot
Let me lie
Do not rake me up with your affirmations
Do to try to keep my color with your praise
Do not pick me up and place me in your pocket...
hoping for a resurrection
I am gone
Leave me dead
I will return to the ground; reborn in the spring
But I will be different
Maybe a blade of grass, a fungi, a sprig of moss
No longer a leaf
Let me change
Watch the miraculous rebirth from a distance
Take photos with your phone
Love that I exist at all
...But leave me still.
Friday, December 7, 2018
Reset
In this moment in time, within this ever-changing and unimaginably vast Universe, my life needs a reset. I'm not talking the type where one of your lives is lost in a game of Super Mario and you start at the mid-way point where you slapped that little flag to save your spot. I am talking the type where you set your phone all the way back to factory mode because you have watched way too much porn and there is just no other option (scary thought, I know). This is it. This life...this moment...is all I've got. I need to make major changes if the next half of this game is going to be fun and so I don't end up falling down an abysmal hole.
I am 36 years old. I've been through much tragedy over the last 10 years and, somehow, I have survived it. I've experienced more life and death than most do over far greater time periods. I have dealt with my sometimes extreme emotions in various ways; some healthy some not-so-much-so. I have traveled, played, cried, danced, listened to copious amounts of wonderful music, lied flat in bed, staring at the wall for hours, I have broken shit, screamed, walked through forests, birthed a child, raised him to the best of my current abilities. I have made love, made meals, made beds, made tinctures, made Christmas ornaments, made snowmen (and women). I have loved and lost and loved and lost until I felt I could no longer take another breath. I have a PhD in life.
So here, right now, I am evaluating what has been and what is possibly to come next. I recently got off an antidepressant that I had been on for 1 year and 4 months. The withdrawals were pure hell and I didn't know if I would make it. But, as I prove time and time again, I am resilient. I feel more alive, albeit more emotional, than I have in years. I am ready for change. I am also heavier than I've ever been (even at 9 months pregnant), more confused about what I want than I have ever been, and very much alone on a day to day basis. So....what now?
I am going to take baby steps as Bob would say (if you don't get the reference just stop reading and go find yourself). I am going to make small changes in the direction of health. I am going to re-build my coping mechanisms that I lost while on my medicine. I am going to envision what I might want to do with my life. I am going to meditate more, breathe deep, dance and practice yoga regularly for once in my life, and take more hikes through the moss-filled forests. I am going to meet friends for lunch. I am going to relax and take more baths. I am going to cry when the feeling arises (this is a major one for me). I may not know exactly who I am or what I want to "do" with my life, but I believe these small steps in the right direction will take me where I am needed. Where I can give. Where I can thrive. The rest....is history.
Player 1: Ready!
I am 36 years old. I've been through much tragedy over the last 10 years and, somehow, I have survived it. I've experienced more life and death than most do over far greater time periods. I have dealt with my sometimes extreme emotions in various ways; some healthy some not-so-much-so. I have traveled, played, cried, danced, listened to copious amounts of wonderful music, lied flat in bed, staring at the wall for hours, I have broken shit, screamed, walked through forests, birthed a child, raised him to the best of my current abilities. I have made love, made meals, made beds, made tinctures, made Christmas ornaments, made snowmen (and women). I have loved and lost and loved and lost until I felt I could no longer take another breath. I have a PhD in life.
So here, right now, I am evaluating what has been and what is possibly to come next. I recently got off an antidepressant that I had been on for 1 year and 4 months. The withdrawals were pure hell and I didn't know if I would make it. But, as I prove time and time again, I am resilient. I feel more alive, albeit more emotional, than I have in years. I am ready for change. I am also heavier than I've ever been (even at 9 months pregnant), more confused about what I want than I have ever been, and very much alone on a day to day basis. So....what now?
I am going to take baby steps as Bob would say (if you don't get the reference just stop reading and go find yourself). I am going to make small changes in the direction of health. I am going to re-build my coping mechanisms that I lost while on my medicine. I am going to envision what I might want to do with my life. I am going to meditate more, breathe deep, dance and practice yoga regularly for once in my life, and take more hikes through the moss-filled forests. I am going to meet friends for lunch. I am going to relax and take more baths. I am going to cry when the feeling arises (this is a major one for me). I may not know exactly who I am or what I want to "do" with my life, but I believe these small steps in the right direction will take me where I am needed. Where I can give. Where I can thrive. The rest....is history.
Player 1: Ready!
Tuesday, October 23, 2018
Enough?
I am feeling a bit sorry for myself this morning. Not because someone "out there" did anything to me or some outside circumstance has got me down. I am feeling bad because of what I have NOT done with my life thus far.
Growing up I dreamed big...like, really big. At one point I thought I would be a punk rock singer when I grew up and adopt 6 children while living on the coast of Australia in a giant treehouse. Then I decided I wanted to be a famous actress and live in a replica of the Emerald Castle. Other occupations that crossed my vivid imagination included figure skater, professional go-go dancer, drummer, psychologist, writer and naturopathic doctor. My most recent dream has been to get my Masters degree in Ecology and become a field ecologist.
I have worked towards these goals somewhat. I auditioned for acting schools in NYC as a teen, I took acting classes, dance classes, studied herbal medicine, went to college over the course of 9 years. I ice skated and made up my own routines on my small town ice rink, I cross-country skied through the woods with my family, I took drum lessons and my parents bought me a drum set. I read for a decade about psychology and went through enough of my own first hand experience to earn a doctorate in my opinion! I've started several novels over the years. But alas, I never stuck with any path long enough to do a damn thing. So here I am, almost 36, a stay-at-home mom with a child now in school, completely lost. I have lost all interest in college classes with their over priced books and boring subject matter. I am aging more rapidly than I would have imagined and still very much single. I have zero degrees and zero real world skill sets (ok, I can build a fire). I still don't know what I want to "be" and I am already grown up!
Above all else, I always imagined I would be a career woman with a partner by my side. Neither of these dreams has come to fruition no matter how much I fucking visualized because I never did the hard, dedicated, consistent work. Now I feel very stuck and uncertain about my future. On top of all of this self pity I have developed an extreme social anxiety over the years that leaves me feeling ever more hopeless.
I know I have been through much tragedy and I know I am resilient. The fact I am not addicted to heroin right now is kind of a miracle actually. I am a pretty good mother I believe and have raised my son to the best of my ability and am trying to improve as a mother daily. I have created gardens, beautiful home spaces, another human being, laughter, and much love throughout my journey. I have helped others and grown immensely on both emotional and spiritual levels. I have read so many books I am practically shitting out words! So I am not saying my life has been a waste by any means. I am not sure what I am saying.
Maybe I dreamed too big? Or my dreams weren't even what I really longed for. It seems if I found the right path I would have stepped up and done anything to make sure I reached my goal. Or maybe my self worth has just been so low I won't allow myself any level of actual success?
This is an open-ended blog because I genuinely do not know. There is no pretty bow or finishing statement that will tie this all together. I am still here, unsure, working on myself daily and raising my son. Maybe that has to be enough for now.
Growing up I dreamed big...like, really big. At one point I thought I would be a punk rock singer when I grew up and adopt 6 children while living on the coast of Australia in a giant treehouse. Then I decided I wanted to be a famous actress and live in a replica of the Emerald Castle. Other occupations that crossed my vivid imagination included figure skater, professional go-go dancer, drummer, psychologist, writer and naturopathic doctor. My most recent dream has been to get my Masters degree in Ecology and become a field ecologist.
I have worked towards these goals somewhat. I auditioned for acting schools in NYC as a teen, I took acting classes, dance classes, studied herbal medicine, went to college over the course of 9 years. I ice skated and made up my own routines on my small town ice rink, I cross-country skied through the woods with my family, I took drum lessons and my parents bought me a drum set. I read for a decade about psychology and went through enough of my own first hand experience to earn a doctorate in my opinion! I've started several novels over the years. But alas, I never stuck with any path long enough to do a damn thing. So here I am, almost 36, a stay-at-home mom with a child now in school, completely lost. I have lost all interest in college classes with their over priced books and boring subject matter. I am aging more rapidly than I would have imagined and still very much single. I have zero degrees and zero real world skill sets (ok, I can build a fire). I still don't know what I want to "be" and I am already grown up!
Above all else, I always imagined I would be a career woman with a partner by my side. Neither of these dreams has come to fruition no matter how much I fucking visualized because I never did the hard, dedicated, consistent work. Now I feel very stuck and uncertain about my future. On top of all of this self pity I have developed an extreme social anxiety over the years that leaves me feeling ever more hopeless.
I know I have been through much tragedy and I know I am resilient. The fact I am not addicted to heroin right now is kind of a miracle actually. I am a pretty good mother I believe and have raised my son to the best of my ability and am trying to improve as a mother daily. I have created gardens, beautiful home spaces, another human being, laughter, and much love throughout my journey. I have helped others and grown immensely on both emotional and spiritual levels. I have read so many books I am practically shitting out words! So I am not saying my life has been a waste by any means. I am not sure what I am saying.
Maybe I dreamed too big? Or my dreams weren't even what I really longed for. It seems if I found the right path I would have stepped up and done anything to make sure I reached my goal. Or maybe my self worth has just been so low I won't allow myself any level of actual success?
This is an open-ended blog because I genuinely do not know. There is no pretty bow or finishing statement that will tie this all together. I am still here, unsure, working on myself daily and raising my son. Maybe that has to be enough for now.
Saturday, September 1, 2018
Lonely Day
Loneliness has been a recurring theme throughout my life. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy my alone time...always have. I love sitting with a cup of hot coffee and a good book, or wandering the forest by myself just enjoying the sounds of nature. This is not the loneliness to which I am referring here. I am speaking to a deep aloneness in the very pit of my psyche and heart. Something unshakable and unfathomable. Something that has traveled in my side car always: taunting me through the passing wind. "I'll be waiting" it has whispered. And now, in this moment, it is here....sitting on my lap.
This is both an existential loneliness (we will lose all that we love) and a very real and present aloneness. Yes, I have my five year old son by my side much of the time. Now that he is in school I am able to enjoy moments to myself. But beyond that, I spend most of my time without another adult around. I see them out and about, wave to my neighbors, carry on small talk at the grocery check out. But I very rarely have in depth conversations or connections, in person, with people I have intimate connections with (not even talking about intimate in the romantic sense). I am very alone. Isolated. And it really sucks.
Now, I know what you are thinking: why don't you go out and make more friends or hang out with ones you already have?? I know this seems like the obvious solution. For me, however, it is just not that simple. I suffer from a case of extreme social anxiety and I struggle with cycles of depression. I have trouble looking people in the eyes none the less approaching them or starting a conversation! I feel inadequate most of the time to even maintain a friendship. I am in therapy, on meds, and working on my issues and trying to heal. I am just afraid this process will take years and I will spend those years utterly alone. I love the time I spend with my son (well mostly) but I crave more adult interactions. More raunchy laughter. More campfires and games of Scattergories. Not in groups and not necessarily with couples (third wheel anyone). Just one on one. Comfortable. Easy. Can I get an Amen?!
Alright...just venting a bit. Back to watching my son do his marble run on this long ass weekend.
This is both an existential loneliness (we will lose all that we love) and a very real and present aloneness. Yes, I have my five year old son by my side much of the time. Now that he is in school I am able to enjoy moments to myself. But beyond that, I spend most of my time without another adult around. I see them out and about, wave to my neighbors, carry on small talk at the grocery check out. But I very rarely have in depth conversations or connections, in person, with people I have intimate connections with (not even talking about intimate in the romantic sense). I am very alone. Isolated. And it really sucks.
Now, I know what you are thinking: why don't you go out and make more friends or hang out with ones you already have?? I know this seems like the obvious solution. For me, however, it is just not that simple. I suffer from a case of extreme social anxiety and I struggle with cycles of depression. I have trouble looking people in the eyes none the less approaching them or starting a conversation! I feel inadequate most of the time to even maintain a friendship. I am in therapy, on meds, and working on my issues and trying to heal. I am just afraid this process will take years and I will spend those years utterly alone. I love the time I spend with my son (well mostly) but I crave more adult interactions. More raunchy laughter. More campfires and games of Scattergories. Not in groups and not necessarily with couples (third wheel anyone). Just one on one. Comfortable. Easy. Can I get an Amen?!
Alright...just venting a bit. Back to watching my son do his marble run on this long ass weekend.
Friday, August 10, 2018
The End of an Era
All three of my cats are high right now...and so am I! (High on life that is. Come on! What do you think of me??) It's a Friday night around 10 pm. I just finally snuck out of my 5 1/2 year old son's room after his failed attempt at sleeping in the living room self-made fort, yet again (When will I learn??). I am wearing leggings covered in bats and a long grey tank top with a sports bra (like you give a fuck!). I am currently sitting on my living room floor, chilling with the cats, highly (cough) anticipating a bowl of chocolate ice cream with some crumbled, organic, oreo-esque cookies on top. That, I have discovered over the last 5 1/2 years, is something to look forward to and hope for in life.
I have been a stay-at-home-mom for the entirety of my son's life so far. When I tell people this, I get one of two responses generally. People either say "Oh you're so LUCKY!" or they say "How do you DO it?" Either way, they are right! I didn't know what to anticipate in this career (it fucking IS a career) as I had never contemplated being a mother in my entire lifetime up until about 2 months before I got pregnant! So I kind of took it as it came, the way you would a car hitting you unexpectedly while closing your eyes and skipping on a crosswalk.
The first few months, of course, were just a zombie-esque blur. Boob, change, boob, rock, soothe, boob, pace, change, boob...you get the idea. And notice that the word sleep does not exist on that continuous loop. Nope, you're just a body with boobs. And a gaping vagina with lots of blood oozing out of it. And a bed that you often pass by in the night like an old lover. I had some help from my family which was WONDERFUL, but I was a single mom from the get-go which was HARD.
The pre-walking baby years I found much more enjoyable. My son finally became cute instead of like a half-rotten plum with enormous feet! He interacted, laughed (the best), drooled, still pooped a lot and still needed the boob like an alcoholic on Christmas. He was SO CUTE though. This is when the personality starts coming through. This, for me, was when I fell in love. Yes, I am admitting that I was not one of those moms who instantly fell in love with my wrinkly-ass black tar pooping spawn! So what? Eventually I did so who cares? He's fiiinnnneee.
The first steps were glorious. All I had imagined. So much pride floating in the air as my little man stumbled his way across the living room floor for the first time. One lone tear fell down my cheek. That feeling lasted exactly one day, immediately followed by the feeling of impending doom. He was now officially a fucking toddler. Lord save the Queen.
During the toddler years I got into a relationship with an old lover and friend. We ended up moving on a whirlwind to the coast and those years are The Blur Part 2. I am still not sure if I ever got a chance to sit when I wasn't driving or shitting for about 2 years straight! I'm serious. My little mofo was a daredevil. It was almost like he wanted to get hurt! One day I was taking my 4 minute shower, I came out to check on my son, and he had pulled a chair over, gotten up on the counter, and taken out a knife!! No joke. He had done this in the matter of 4 minutes and he was 1 1/2! I was horrified. I somehow managed to fly across the room and get the knife away from him faster than a fucking wizard. I NEVER kept anything sharp any lower than 6 feet after that day. Lesson learned. And luckily before my child was seriously injured.
This is how I have found motherhood to be though... a series of trials and errors, mistakes (oopsies), boo-boos, kisses, tears, laughter, and most of all: zombie hood. It has been so incredibly difficult I cannot even speak to it entirely. I might compare it to a stint in 'Nam or a really intense marathon where you're covered in shit and only have one leg (being a single mom at least...but I believe all moms feel this way at times).
So now, as I sit on my floor alone on a Friday night, salivating at the thought of Breyers, I think ahead 17 days to my son's first day of Kindergarten. I always visualized I'd be popping a bottle of bubbly as he got on the bus and just soaking myself in it like my own personal wet t-shirt contest. Honestly though, I'm a little sad (Damn you older ladies, you were right again!). I know he will enjoy it SO much because he is SO social. I also know that I desperately need the space and time alone to do some inner and outer healing work after being the giver for many years without many breaks. But, deeper down, there is that ultimate mom in me who will miss it being "just the two of us". We have shared amazing adventures over these years, gotten through a fuck load of stressors and multiple moves, fought like The Honeymooners, goofed around like The Marx Brothers, played hours upon hours of board games, read hundreds of books (or the same 10 books a hundred times), bonded, matured together (he has far surpassed me now), walked down more roads than a lost donkey, roller-skated, rode bikes, climbed trees, watched too much TV, played many games of hide-and-seek, explored nature and insects, and snuggled like mofos!! Yup, I'll miss it. Here's to you Benny...on your new adventure!
I have been a stay-at-home-mom for the entirety of my son's life so far. When I tell people this, I get one of two responses generally. People either say "Oh you're so LUCKY!" or they say "How do you DO it?" Either way, they are right! I didn't know what to anticipate in this career (it fucking IS a career) as I had never contemplated being a mother in my entire lifetime up until about 2 months before I got pregnant! So I kind of took it as it came, the way you would a car hitting you unexpectedly while closing your eyes and skipping on a crosswalk.
The first few months, of course, were just a zombie-esque blur. Boob, change, boob, rock, soothe, boob, pace, change, boob...you get the idea. And notice that the word sleep does not exist on that continuous loop. Nope, you're just a body with boobs. And a gaping vagina with lots of blood oozing out of it. And a bed that you often pass by in the night like an old lover. I had some help from my family which was WONDERFUL, but I was a single mom from the get-go which was HARD.
The pre-walking baby years I found much more enjoyable. My son finally became cute instead of like a half-rotten plum with enormous feet! He interacted, laughed (the best), drooled, still pooped a lot and still needed the boob like an alcoholic on Christmas. He was SO CUTE though. This is when the personality starts coming through. This, for me, was when I fell in love. Yes, I am admitting that I was not one of those moms who instantly fell in love with my wrinkly-ass black tar pooping spawn! So what? Eventually I did so who cares? He's fiiinnnneee.
The first steps were glorious. All I had imagined. So much pride floating in the air as my little man stumbled his way across the living room floor for the first time. One lone tear fell down my cheek. That feeling lasted exactly one day, immediately followed by the feeling of impending doom. He was now officially a fucking toddler. Lord save the Queen.
During the toddler years I got into a relationship with an old lover and friend. We ended up moving on a whirlwind to the coast and those years are The Blur Part 2. I am still not sure if I ever got a chance to sit when I wasn't driving or shitting for about 2 years straight! I'm serious. My little mofo was a daredevil. It was almost like he wanted to get hurt! One day I was taking my 4 minute shower, I came out to check on my son, and he had pulled a chair over, gotten up on the counter, and taken out a knife!! No joke. He had done this in the matter of 4 minutes and he was 1 1/2! I was horrified. I somehow managed to fly across the room and get the knife away from him faster than a fucking wizard. I NEVER kept anything sharp any lower than 6 feet after that day. Lesson learned. And luckily before my child was seriously injured.
This is how I have found motherhood to be though... a series of trials and errors, mistakes (oopsies), boo-boos, kisses, tears, laughter, and most of all: zombie hood. It has been so incredibly difficult I cannot even speak to it entirely. I might compare it to a stint in 'Nam or a really intense marathon where you're covered in shit and only have one leg (being a single mom at least...but I believe all moms feel this way at times).
So now, as I sit on my floor alone on a Friday night, salivating at the thought of Breyers, I think ahead 17 days to my son's first day of Kindergarten. I always visualized I'd be popping a bottle of bubbly as he got on the bus and just soaking myself in it like my own personal wet t-shirt contest. Honestly though, I'm a little sad (Damn you older ladies, you were right again!). I know he will enjoy it SO much because he is SO social. I also know that I desperately need the space and time alone to do some inner and outer healing work after being the giver for many years without many breaks. But, deeper down, there is that ultimate mom in me who will miss it being "just the two of us". We have shared amazing adventures over these years, gotten through a fuck load of stressors and multiple moves, fought like The Honeymooners, goofed around like The Marx Brothers, played hours upon hours of board games, read hundreds of books (or the same 10 books a hundred times), bonded, matured together (he has far surpassed me now), walked down more roads than a lost donkey, roller-skated, rode bikes, climbed trees, watched too much TV, played many games of hide-and-seek, explored nature and insects, and snuggled like mofos!! Yup, I'll miss it. Here's to you Benny...on your new adventure!
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