Tuesday, February 1, 2011
We Interrupt This Blog
For a bout of stomach flu and a couple birthdays...but hope to get part 5 up tomorrow! And some birthday pics later in the week!
Friday, January 28, 2011
Confessions of a (Mostly) Reformed Yeller Part 4 of 7
Part 4: We need to relinquish our unrealistic expectations, both of ourselves and others.
I have to tell you, that to this day, my expectations not being met is one of the surest ways for me leave Compassionland and enter into the Kindgom of Damnthem! Nothing can get my ire up as quickly as walking into the house after running errands to a complete disaster, after asking those left behind to straighten up while I was gone. Nothing can make my teeth clench so quickly, as offering detailed instructions about what needs to be done and then having it only half done or done improperly. If you were a fly on the wall in my house for any length of time, you'd be sure to hear me say "Gah! Expectations are the killer!"
Leaving things for other people to do, or allowing them the freedom to make choices requires a voluntary surrender of power. We actively have to release control of a situation, if we are going ask others to do things. As you will recall, habitual yelling at its root stems from a lack of a sense of control and a feeling of disempowerment. Granting freedom to others is a monumental challenge for Yellers. We do NOT want to be disappointed.
For the first four of our children, the first seven years of motherhood for me, I relinquished almost no parenting control of the babycare to my husband. At the time I really believed that I was just better at it and more hormonally and biologically adapted to caring for our small children and babies. While on the one hand that is true, it is also true that what was really going on was me not wanting to feel powerless when the baby was fussing or someone was having a meltdown. I would perpetually swoop in to "save" my husband and the baby. Voila! Control restored.
What I didn't realise was that I was undermining myself as well as my husband to actually be the most effective parents we could be. Only with our fifth child did I surrender my absolute rule and allow my husband to find his own way, with his own techniques and skills to comfort and nurture the baby. I decided that as long as the baby wasn't crying alone, but in someone's loving arms where they were nurtured and safe that I would not offer to help unless I was asked. I had no idea what a revolution that would cause in terms of the entirety of my approach to parenthood.
In my first post I wrote that I believe most Yellers to be people who take their responsibility as parents very seriously. They feel very deeply the desire to raise their children "right". Wherever they fall on the parenting spectrum, I think Yellers tend to be people who want to do all of the things prescribed by that particular style or styles of parenting to a T. I think categorically they have high, often inflexible, expectations of themselves and of their children.
One inadvertent side effect of these high expectations is an ever present need to actively control situations and our children. Another is that people and events seem to persistently fall short of our expectations. Yellers tend to have pretty firm ideas about what their children "ought" to be doing, and how their life "ought" to be. You might hear them say things like "My children ought to just listen to me." Or "My baby ought to be able to fall asleep on their own by now." Or my own seemingly perpetual mantra,"My children ought to be able to pick up after themselves."
One of they keys, I firmly believe, to overcoming habitual yelling is to build on the compassion and self compassion we've learned and practiced, and begin developing realistic expectations. When we view others and ourselves as works in progress who are all learning and growing, we can move to a place where we can alter what we once would have viewed as "failure", with the perception of it as "part of the learning process."
I think one of the very greatest uses of time and internet you can employ as a parent is seeking out and firmly understanding what age, or better yet, developmentally appropriate behaviour is reasonable to expect from our children. For example, six week old babies generally do not have the basic neural ability to sleep through the night. While we might be exhausted and wish they'd sleep, most babies that age simply do not have the capacity for that behaviour. It would be setting up falsely high expectations to try to set out on a program at that age and developmental phase to try to achieve that end. Another example might be a toddler grasping, reaching and pulling out things on tables and shelves. At that stage of development they are hard wired to exercise their new skills and to explore their environment. If we leave things in reach which we do not want broken or touched, we are setting up unrealistically high expectations which are doomed to failure.
On the whole as a culture, I think we have very unrealistic expectations in regards to the behaviour and ability of children. We want our babies to sleep longer than they're really able to, toddlers to be able to control impulses better than they're really able to, pre-school aged children to begin academic undertakings they're not really ready for, kindergarten aged kids to be able to sit still for much of the day, school aged kids to relinquish playing long before they're ready, tweeners to manage the massive hormonal shifts without big emotions rising to the surface, teenagers to balance vast amounts of responsibility, and so on.
Besides allowing my husband to learn to parent our young children his own way, there were two other major breakthroughs for me which helped me begin to cull my expectations to more reasonable dimensions. Both experiences were born from having a very colicky third baby. She would literally cry for three hours every.single.night. For months. At the time, my husband was working mostly nights and was away for bedtime. I somehow had to manage bedtime for the older two kids and deal with the cry-o-matic infant. After having tried everything I could to make that little girl stop crying I got to the point where I realised that it is NOT my job as a parent to make sure my children never cry, but rather just to be with them as they cry, offering a place of safety and unconditional love. I am just an emotional midwife, so to speak, who is there as someone to help them facilitate working through, as well as bearing witness to their big emotions. This understanding has extended now far beyond babyhood for me, into the entire emotional lives of my children. It is not my job to make sure they are never hurt, never cry, never experience disappointment, never struggle; but it is my job to be with them as they process through all of these things. I don't need to control what they feel and how they feel it, I just need to control how I respond to it. The second massive shift during that colic time was an understanding that I was just going to have to surrender my expectations of what I thought bedtime ought to entail. I gave up the nightly bath for the kids. Accepted that most nights I would not be able to read them a story. Acquiesced that every night would not have lullabies and long, gradual transitions to dreamland.
Surrendering those expectations of what I thought I needed to do to be a good mother, helped me deal with the situation as it truly was and get creative about working things out. Surrendering those expectations immediately decreased the stress level and my sense of being in a situation completely out of my control. If I could realistically look at what I was capable of, I could find ways which would still meet the basic need of creating a gentle transition to sleep for my children. So I would just put socks on dirty little feet for bed if a bath wasn't in the cards before colic time set in, sing one little lullabye, and learned that books and stories on tape were a wonderful thing! There was suddenly very little left to yell about.
The most crucial component of what I was doing, was changing my expectations about what I was supposed to do. It was hard, because it felt like capitulation and failure. Being raised in a household where perfection was expected, relinquishing my own perfectionism about myself, my children, my parenting and out life was massively conflicting for me. I didn't understand then that it was healthy resilience. Over the next few babies and the next few years I came to understand that my expectations for what I could successfully manage needed to be always flexible, adjusting them for the situation at hand. I am sick and tired? Okay, this week we're gonna watch a lot of TV. I am really pregnant or have a new baby? Okay, the house is gonna be kind of a disaster for awhile. I have lots of meetings this week? Okay, we're gonna have quick, but not so healthy food for a few days.
There was a shift in my thinking from always parenting for twenty years from now (If I let this behaviour stand, she's going to be an irresponsible, ungrateful adult!), to just doing the imperfect best I could in the present. My firm belief and hope is that my children will walk into adulthood taking the entirety of their experience, and that each and every moment of their childhood taken individually will matter very little. I am sure there will be a handful of individual moments which stand out, but the overall general impression of their upbringing I think will be far more important in terms of the adults they become. So if we need to have popcorn and ice cream and fruit snacks for lunch because I haven't made it to the grocery store yet, that in no way means that my children are going to enter into adulthood obese and with a messed up relationship with food.
We have their entire childhoods to teach and impart values and wisdom. Just because my two year old can't sit on his bottom for meals, doesn't mean he is going to be jumping up and down when he is out on his first date a decade and a half from now. Just because my three year old will not consistently use the potty does not mean she'll be wearing diapers in college. Just because my baby doesn't sleep very well, doesn't mean that I'll never get sleep ever again. We have to take the longer view, and release that immediacy of needing to control our environment and behaviour if we are going to move away from habitual yelling.
Two last thoughts about expectations. First, I want to be clear that I think children generally live up to the expectations we have for them. I still believe that I'd rather set my beliefs about them too high, rather than too low. However, I think that emphasizes the need to ensure that our expectations are developmentally and situationally appropriate. I also think that it means that I have to remain ever flexible in my expectations, being open to setting them higher or lower as the present demands.
Finally I want to address our expectations in regards to the transition from Yeller into a reformed Yeller. I sincerely hope that you will walk away from reading all of this and that things will be immediately and permanently better for in terms of yelling at your children. However, I believe most change is more of an ever-expanding spiral, rather than a linear path. There will be times and days where will do just awesome. But there will also be times and days where we completely fail. If we can keep trying to practice self-compassion and forgiveness and asking forgiveness throughout this process, those bad days will space further and further apart, and our yelling outbursts become more and more infrequent. Give yourself time to enact change in your life. Set realisitc expectations! Your entire lifetime up to this point has yielded to this behaviour, it's probably going to take you some time to consistently replace yelling with other ways of communicating.
I have to tell you, that to this day, my expectations not being met is one of the surest ways for me leave Compassionland and enter into the Kindgom of Damnthem! Nothing can get my ire up as quickly as walking into the house after running errands to a complete disaster, after asking those left behind to straighten up while I was gone. Nothing can make my teeth clench so quickly, as offering detailed instructions about what needs to be done and then having it only half done or done improperly. If you were a fly on the wall in my house for any length of time, you'd be sure to hear me say "Gah! Expectations are the killer!"
Leaving things for other people to do, or allowing them the freedom to make choices requires a voluntary surrender of power. We actively have to release control of a situation, if we are going ask others to do things. As you will recall, habitual yelling at its root stems from a lack of a sense of control and a feeling of disempowerment. Granting freedom to others is a monumental challenge for Yellers. We do NOT want to be disappointed.
For the first four of our children, the first seven years of motherhood for me, I relinquished almost no parenting control of the babycare to my husband. At the time I really believed that I was just better at it and more hormonally and biologically adapted to caring for our small children and babies. While on the one hand that is true, it is also true that what was really going on was me not wanting to feel powerless when the baby was fussing or someone was having a meltdown. I would perpetually swoop in to "save" my husband and the baby. Voila! Control restored.
What I didn't realise was that I was undermining myself as well as my husband to actually be the most effective parents we could be. Only with our fifth child did I surrender my absolute rule and allow my husband to find his own way, with his own techniques and skills to comfort and nurture the baby. I decided that as long as the baby wasn't crying alone, but in someone's loving arms where they were nurtured and safe that I would not offer to help unless I was asked. I had no idea what a revolution that would cause in terms of the entirety of my approach to parenthood.
In my first post I wrote that I believe most Yellers to be people who take their responsibility as parents very seriously. They feel very deeply the desire to raise their children "right". Wherever they fall on the parenting spectrum, I think Yellers tend to be people who want to do all of the things prescribed by that particular style or styles of parenting to a T. I think categorically they have high, often inflexible, expectations of themselves and of their children.
One inadvertent side effect of these high expectations is an ever present need to actively control situations and our children. Another is that people and events seem to persistently fall short of our expectations. Yellers tend to have pretty firm ideas about what their children "ought" to be doing, and how their life "ought" to be. You might hear them say things like "My children ought to just listen to me." Or "My baby ought to be able to fall asleep on their own by now." Or my own seemingly perpetual mantra,"My children ought to be able to pick up after themselves."
One of they keys, I firmly believe, to overcoming habitual yelling is to build on the compassion and self compassion we've learned and practiced, and begin developing realistic expectations. When we view others and ourselves as works in progress who are all learning and growing, we can move to a place where we can alter what we once would have viewed as "failure", with the perception of it as "part of the learning process."
I think one of the very greatest uses of time and internet you can employ as a parent is seeking out and firmly understanding what age, or better yet, developmentally appropriate behaviour is reasonable to expect from our children. For example, six week old babies generally do not have the basic neural ability to sleep through the night. While we might be exhausted and wish they'd sleep, most babies that age simply do not have the capacity for that behaviour. It would be setting up falsely high expectations to try to set out on a program at that age and developmental phase to try to achieve that end. Another example might be a toddler grasping, reaching and pulling out things on tables and shelves. At that stage of development they are hard wired to exercise their new skills and to explore their environment. If we leave things in reach which we do not want broken or touched, we are setting up unrealistically high expectations which are doomed to failure.
On the whole as a culture, I think we have very unrealistic expectations in regards to the behaviour and ability of children. We want our babies to sleep longer than they're really able to, toddlers to be able to control impulses better than they're really able to, pre-school aged children to begin academic undertakings they're not really ready for, kindergarten aged kids to be able to sit still for much of the day, school aged kids to relinquish playing long before they're ready, tweeners to manage the massive hormonal shifts without big emotions rising to the surface, teenagers to balance vast amounts of responsibility, and so on.
Besides allowing my husband to learn to parent our young children his own way, there were two other major breakthroughs for me which helped me begin to cull my expectations to more reasonable dimensions. Both experiences were born from having a very colicky third baby. She would literally cry for three hours every.single.night. For months. At the time, my husband was working mostly nights and was away for bedtime. I somehow had to manage bedtime for the older two kids and deal with the cry-o-matic infant. After having tried everything I could to make that little girl stop crying I got to the point where I realised that it is NOT my job as a parent to make sure my children never cry, but rather just to be with them as they cry, offering a place of safety and unconditional love. I am just an emotional midwife, so to speak, who is there as someone to help them facilitate working through, as well as bearing witness to their big emotions. This understanding has extended now far beyond babyhood for me, into the entire emotional lives of my children. It is not my job to make sure they are never hurt, never cry, never experience disappointment, never struggle; but it is my job to be with them as they process through all of these things. I don't need to control what they feel and how they feel it, I just need to control how I respond to it. The second massive shift during that colic time was an understanding that I was just going to have to surrender my expectations of what I thought bedtime ought to entail. I gave up the nightly bath for the kids. Accepted that most nights I would not be able to read them a story. Acquiesced that every night would not have lullabies and long, gradual transitions to dreamland.
Surrendering those expectations of what I thought I needed to do to be a good mother, helped me deal with the situation as it truly was and get creative about working things out. Surrendering those expectations immediately decreased the stress level and my sense of being in a situation completely out of my control. If I could realistically look at what I was capable of, I could find ways which would still meet the basic need of creating a gentle transition to sleep for my children. So I would just put socks on dirty little feet for bed if a bath wasn't in the cards before colic time set in, sing one little lullabye, and learned that books and stories on tape were a wonderful thing! There was suddenly very little left to yell about.
The most crucial component of what I was doing, was changing my expectations about what I was supposed to do. It was hard, because it felt like capitulation and failure. Being raised in a household where perfection was expected, relinquishing my own perfectionism about myself, my children, my parenting and out life was massively conflicting for me. I didn't understand then that it was healthy resilience. Over the next few babies and the next few years I came to understand that my expectations for what I could successfully manage needed to be always flexible, adjusting them for the situation at hand. I am sick and tired? Okay, this week we're gonna watch a lot of TV. I am really pregnant or have a new baby? Okay, the house is gonna be kind of a disaster for awhile. I have lots of meetings this week? Okay, we're gonna have quick, but not so healthy food for a few days.
There was a shift in my thinking from always parenting for twenty years from now (If I let this behaviour stand, she's going to be an irresponsible, ungrateful adult!), to just doing the imperfect best I could in the present. My firm belief and hope is that my children will walk into adulthood taking the entirety of their experience, and that each and every moment of their childhood taken individually will matter very little. I am sure there will be a handful of individual moments which stand out, but the overall general impression of their upbringing I think will be far more important in terms of the adults they become. So if we need to have popcorn and ice cream and fruit snacks for lunch because I haven't made it to the grocery store yet, that in no way means that my children are going to enter into adulthood obese and with a messed up relationship with food.
We have their entire childhoods to teach and impart values and wisdom. Just because my two year old can't sit on his bottom for meals, doesn't mean he is going to be jumping up and down when he is out on his first date a decade and a half from now. Just because my three year old will not consistently use the potty does not mean she'll be wearing diapers in college. Just because my baby doesn't sleep very well, doesn't mean that I'll never get sleep ever again. We have to take the longer view, and release that immediacy of needing to control our environment and behaviour if we are going to move away from habitual yelling.
Two last thoughts about expectations. First, I want to be clear that I think children generally live up to the expectations we have for them. I still believe that I'd rather set my beliefs about them too high, rather than too low. However, I think that emphasizes the need to ensure that our expectations are developmentally and situationally appropriate. I also think that it means that I have to remain ever flexible in my expectations, being open to setting them higher or lower as the present demands.
Finally I want to address our expectations in regards to the transition from Yeller into a reformed Yeller. I sincerely hope that you will walk away from reading all of this and that things will be immediately and permanently better for in terms of yelling at your children. However, I believe most change is more of an ever-expanding spiral, rather than a linear path. There will be times and days where will do just awesome. But there will also be times and days where we completely fail. If we can keep trying to practice self-compassion and forgiveness and asking forgiveness throughout this process, those bad days will space further and further apart, and our yelling outbursts become more and more infrequent. Give yourself time to enact change in your life. Set realisitc expectations! Your entire lifetime up to this point has yielded to this behaviour, it's probably going to take you some time to consistently replace yelling with other ways of communicating.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Confessions of a (Mostly) Reformed Yeller Part 3 of 7
We need to learn and practice self-compassion and compassion for others, forgiveness and the readiness to seek forgiveness.
So now we've dredged up all of this ache and hurt and pain and shame from our past. We've come to the realisation that if we're yelling habitually, we're trying to control situations and other people for our own ends of feeling empowered. Quite frankly, things can look pretty darn grim. And hopeless. And like it's all beyond saving. And the best we could do is sit curled up in the corner just rocking ourselves and moaning.
Where do we go from here with all of this mess sitting on the plate before us? How do we move through all of it to actually make it usable and serviceable to us? How do we go from the big gloppy, formless mess we're stirring in the pot to that crossover moment when it all suddenly turns into play doh which we can mold and shape into wonderful and fantastic creations?
I think the key is learning and putting into practice forgiveness and compassion, both for ourselves and others. Employing the ongoing practice of compassion, forgiveness and seeking forgiveness is how we take these immensities and begin to act in a way which is free from our past. Compassion and forgiveness for ourselves and others is the key with unlatches the padlock on the chains which bind us. We still need to unsnake and wrangle out of those chains, which will take time, immense effort and skill; but we cannot even begin that attempt without first opening that lock.
I don't know about you, but when I really looked back, putting words to and calling to mind all that had happened to me, I felt angry. Really angry. Rage angry. Fury. When I admitted I had a problem, and realised why I was yelling, I felt angry at myself, and pretty much like I just completely sucked as a human being. It tore me apart; for awhile things were actually worse than they had been because I was just cloaked in pain, without knowing how to move forward.
One night about six or seven years ago, sitting with a bunch of college aged young men and women at a prayer group, two very fundamental things happened which began to change all of this for me. The first was the idea which came to me while sitting in meditation that my brokenness was my greatest gift to share with the world. It would take many more years to understand that this was a giant step in self compassion, which has been admittedly the very hardest part of this third step for me. Secondly, a young woman said something which just radicalised how I was viewing my own up bringing and my past.
What she said was essentially this: "I know my parents did the best the knew to do at the time, out of the very best motivations. It just happens that what they had to give wasn't what I needed." Boom! Crash! The lightning bolt hit me. Yes! From that moment I had a workable context in which to view my past. I could forgive the wrongs and hurts I had held onto, without diminishing those wounds in any way. Forgiveness didn't mean that I had to forget or downplay all that I had endured, and that was vitally important to me. Once I began to view things through this lens, I could also extend a knowing camaraderie to those doing the best they know to do at the time, even when their efforts are imperfect. Because , holy cow, did that ever sound like exactly what I was doing in my own life! Thus, the infancy of compassion also came into being in my life.
The word compassion , when looked at its root parts, literally means "suffering with". If there was one thing I understood, it was suffering. At this point in my mid-twenties I felt like suffering was key component and defining factor of my life. I began extending this understanding to reach a place where I deeply understood that we ALL suffer, that we ALL fall short of who we want to be so often in our lives. Conceding that we ALL have past hurts and wounds and broken places pulled me out of feeling isolated in my pain, which made my own hurts which seemed infinitely vast and unapproachable, almost magically and immediately more manageable. Feeling alone in our pain, I believe, is one of the key factors which keeps us from healing. Acknowledging that all of humanity is in this together with the very same struggles has been and continues to be completely and totally empowering for me. My suffering can now build and forge connection, rather than foster disconnection and destruction.
I began to view my parents and other people in my life very differently. Things no longer seemed so personal to me. It wasn't that people had wounded me with malice and foresight and design, but rather as a side effect of their own ongoing struggles with their own sufferings.
Once this began to really set in and resonate, it came to me that because this struggle is universal, it is imperative that when we wrong or even inadvertently hurt others that we must humbly and sincerely seek their forgiveness. To me this is nothing more than simply living out that axiom which is found in so many religions and cultures: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Seeking others' forgiveness is the bridge between our personal chasms of hurt; it's the precise mechanism by which our wounds can become the building blocks of connection. When we ask for forgiveness or apologize to anyone, we are essentially saying to them, "I recognise and honor the suffering within you which I have caused. I understand how much that hurts. Let's try this again, but this time working together, rather than as adversaries." In my own life, from the moment I realised this, I began to always ask my children's forgiveness when I yelled at them, or was grumpy, or detached or did anything which caused them hurt.
Even in those cases where I was doing the right thing, I became dedicated to acknowledging that hurt which they experienced, finding that common bridge between us. "I know it is so hard and frustrating to not get that cool toy you want right now. It's hard for me when I see things I want and have to wait to get them, and I'm a grown up. I know you feel sad and mad about this decision I am making. When we get home, we'll draw a picture of it and put it on your birthday list." I have tried really hard to NOT apologize for parenting (i.e. not saying things like "I'm sorry that it's bed time." or "I'm sorry we have to go."), but rather to save my apologies for when I had truly done wrong. "Wow! I really flew off the handle there. I was feeling really frustrated and upset that the dishes weren't getting done the way I wanted them done. I yelled at you. That was unjust and I bet really hurt your feelings and made you feel scared. Will you please forgive me? Can we start over?" I actively tried to learn to acknowledge the kids' big feelings about the parenting choices I was making. I was putting compassion into practice. We have had days, both past and present where we have had many, many do overs. I firmly believe that my personal commitment to seeking their forgiveness and forgiving them has kept us very closely connected over the years, even though there have been times where I was just an absolute mess.
When we remember that yelling essentially comes from a feeling and sense of having no control, we can see the immense potential power of forgiveness, compassion, and seeking forgiveness. We can choose how to view our past and present. Feeling as though we have choices, any choices, moves us a long way down the road to empowerment.
This brings me to the cultivation of self-compassion, which I have conveniently left for last, because it has been by far the most difficult, long and arduous part of this process for me. I really only feel like I have made measurable strides in this area over the past two or three years. It's an area where I am still really actively growing and developing an understanding of how this manifests in my life.
Unfortunately, self-compassion in our culture is very often pegged as selfishness. We receive the cultural message that '"good" moms are completely focused and centered on their children and husbands. Complicating things, we also receive the cultural message that in addition to being completely other-focused we are also supposed to be fit, skinny, interesting but not outrageous, alluring but not slutty, readily employable-though also completely content to stay at home--and all of this not for ourselves, but for our men and our children. Doing anything for self is completely verboten.
Reflecting now upon this, I see the connection between these ideals and why so many women eat or shop emotionally or become addicted to things like exercise or religion in ways which are destructive rather than constructive in their lives. It's just like the lying or refusal to do homework I mentioned in my previous post. These disordered behaviours come as an attempt to exert power in an environment where we feel powerless. They are merely misguided attempts to right a very fundamental wrong.
I lived for many years as what I thought was the dutiful wife and mother. Everything I did was at he service of others. As a "good" wife and mother I forgot myself completely, except when I would act out in some sort of negative way. Nearly five years ago now, my marriage pretty much completely fell apart. My husband wasn't really sure he wanted to stay married to me. And I have to tell you now in retrospect, that it was one of the very best things which EVER happened to me. I recognised that I was miserable; I was so divorced from who I really was that honestly,I wouldn't really wanted to have been married to me either. Having nothing to lose, I just decided that I was going to figure out who me was,start just being me, and make sure that I mattered in the scope of our family.
I found the courage to insist that I had needs and wants. I was not only a member of our family, but just as important as every other member of our family. Being an adult my needs might not be as immediate as those of the children, but they were not somehow less important. Because I was dedicated to trying to be a good mom, meeting my needs developed as something complimentary to meeting the needs of my children , rather than in conflict. I began to dress how I wanted, rather than how I thought moms should dress. I began to wear my hair crazy, because that's how I liked it. I began to make sure I ate healthfully and exercised regularly. I began to devour fiction again rather than endless parenting books. I began to write again. Eventually, I would make friends with people who I would make sure I spent time with in a regular way, because I am a complete extrovert and am really fed through interacting with others. I began listening to music I loved, even if it was loud and obnoxious and not at all mom-ly.
These external changes, really paved the way for the interior conversion of viewing myself through a compassionate lens. When I yelled at my kids, I learned to not only ask their forgiveness, but to honestly forgive myself. When I failed or made bad choices, I learned to look at that objectively but with understanding rather than self-degradation.
Over time that self-compassion in the immediate, began to extend to myself throughout my past as well. I could now look back and say "Wow! I really caused that person a lot of hurt. I didn't know at the time how much damage I was causing. I really regret doing that, but if I had known then what I do now, I would have acted differently", but simply as a statement of fact rather than as berating myself.
Which now brings me to the present on my journey of self compassion. This is where the concept of my brokenness being my gift to others is coming to fruition. I can look at my hurts and wounds and subsequent behaviours and offer them up to others to be able to say "Oh yes! I recognise that in my own life! I am not alone. Maybe I can enact some change, too." I can see value in my failures and struggles, rather than just how badly I have messed up. Also in the present I am working on putting self compassion into practice when things get rough. When the kids are refusing to clean up, or everyone is wild for bedtime, or the house is in complete chaos I am learning to step away rather than immediately reacting, breathing deep and reminding myself "You are safe. You are worthy of love. You have a voice. You have power in this situation. You have the ability to make choices to build connection rather than destroy it. You are safe."
So now we've dredged up all of this ache and hurt and pain and shame from our past. We've come to the realisation that if we're yelling habitually, we're trying to control situations and other people for our own ends of feeling empowered. Quite frankly, things can look pretty darn grim. And hopeless. And like it's all beyond saving. And the best we could do is sit curled up in the corner just rocking ourselves and moaning.
Where do we go from here with all of this mess sitting on the plate before us? How do we move through all of it to actually make it usable and serviceable to us? How do we go from the big gloppy, formless mess we're stirring in the pot to that crossover moment when it all suddenly turns into play doh which we can mold and shape into wonderful and fantastic creations?
I think the key is learning and putting into practice forgiveness and compassion, both for ourselves and others. Employing the ongoing practice of compassion, forgiveness and seeking forgiveness is how we take these immensities and begin to act in a way which is free from our past. Compassion and forgiveness for ourselves and others is the key with unlatches the padlock on the chains which bind us. We still need to unsnake and wrangle out of those chains, which will take time, immense effort and skill; but we cannot even begin that attempt without first opening that lock.
I don't know about you, but when I really looked back, putting words to and calling to mind all that had happened to me, I felt angry. Really angry. Rage angry. Fury. When I admitted I had a problem, and realised why I was yelling, I felt angry at myself, and pretty much like I just completely sucked as a human being. It tore me apart; for awhile things were actually worse than they had been because I was just cloaked in pain, without knowing how to move forward.
One night about six or seven years ago, sitting with a bunch of college aged young men and women at a prayer group, two very fundamental things happened which began to change all of this for me. The first was the idea which came to me while sitting in meditation that my brokenness was my greatest gift to share with the world. It would take many more years to understand that this was a giant step in self compassion, which has been admittedly the very hardest part of this third step for me. Secondly, a young woman said something which just radicalised how I was viewing my own up bringing and my past.
What she said was essentially this: "I know my parents did the best the knew to do at the time, out of the very best motivations. It just happens that what they had to give wasn't what I needed." Boom! Crash! The lightning bolt hit me. Yes! From that moment I had a workable context in which to view my past. I could forgive the wrongs and hurts I had held onto, without diminishing those wounds in any way. Forgiveness didn't mean that I had to forget or downplay all that I had endured, and that was vitally important to me. Once I began to view things through this lens, I could also extend a knowing camaraderie to those doing the best they know to do at the time, even when their efforts are imperfect. Because , holy cow, did that ever sound like exactly what I was doing in my own life! Thus, the infancy of compassion also came into being in my life.
The word compassion , when looked at its root parts, literally means "suffering with". If there was one thing I understood, it was suffering. At this point in my mid-twenties I felt like suffering was key component and defining factor of my life. I began extending this understanding to reach a place where I deeply understood that we ALL suffer, that we ALL fall short of who we want to be so often in our lives. Conceding that we ALL have past hurts and wounds and broken places pulled me out of feeling isolated in my pain, which made my own hurts which seemed infinitely vast and unapproachable, almost magically and immediately more manageable. Feeling alone in our pain, I believe, is one of the key factors which keeps us from healing. Acknowledging that all of humanity is in this together with the very same struggles has been and continues to be completely and totally empowering for me. My suffering can now build and forge connection, rather than foster disconnection and destruction.
I began to view my parents and other people in my life very differently. Things no longer seemed so personal to me. It wasn't that people had wounded me with malice and foresight and design, but rather as a side effect of their own ongoing struggles with their own sufferings.
Once this began to really set in and resonate, it came to me that because this struggle is universal, it is imperative that when we wrong or even inadvertently hurt others that we must humbly and sincerely seek their forgiveness. To me this is nothing more than simply living out that axiom which is found in so many religions and cultures: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Seeking others' forgiveness is the bridge between our personal chasms of hurt; it's the precise mechanism by which our wounds can become the building blocks of connection. When we ask for forgiveness or apologize to anyone, we are essentially saying to them, "I recognise and honor the suffering within you which I have caused. I understand how much that hurts. Let's try this again, but this time working together, rather than as adversaries." In my own life, from the moment I realised this, I began to always ask my children's forgiveness when I yelled at them, or was grumpy, or detached or did anything which caused them hurt.
Even in those cases where I was doing the right thing, I became dedicated to acknowledging that hurt which they experienced, finding that common bridge between us. "I know it is so hard and frustrating to not get that cool toy you want right now. It's hard for me when I see things I want and have to wait to get them, and I'm a grown up. I know you feel sad and mad about this decision I am making. When we get home, we'll draw a picture of it and put it on your birthday list." I have tried really hard to NOT apologize for parenting (i.e. not saying things like "I'm sorry that it's bed time." or "I'm sorry we have to go."), but rather to save my apologies for when I had truly done wrong. "Wow! I really flew off the handle there. I was feeling really frustrated and upset that the dishes weren't getting done the way I wanted them done. I yelled at you. That was unjust and I bet really hurt your feelings and made you feel scared. Will you please forgive me? Can we start over?" I actively tried to learn to acknowledge the kids' big feelings about the parenting choices I was making. I was putting compassion into practice. We have had days, both past and present where we have had many, many do overs. I firmly believe that my personal commitment to seeking their forgiveness and forgiving them has kept us very closely connected over the years, even though there have been times where I was just an absolute mess.
When we remember that yelling essentially comes from a feeling and sense of having no control, we can see the immense potential power of forgiveness, compassion, and seeking forgiveness. We can choose how to view our past and present. Feeling as though we have choices, any choices, moves us a long way down the road to empowerment.
This brings me to the cultivation of self-compassion, which I have conveniently left for last, because it has been by far the most difficult, long and arduous part of this process for me. I really only feel like I have made measurable strides in this area over the past two or three years. It's an area where I am still really actively growing and developing an understanding of how this manifests in my life.
Unfortunately, self-compassion in our culture is very often pegged as selfishness. We receive the cultural message that '"good" moms are completely focused and centered on their children and husbands. Complicating things, we also receive the cultural message that in addition to being completely other-focused we are also supposed to be fit, skinny, interesting but not outrageous, alluring but not slutty, readily employable-though also completely content to stay at home--and all of this not for ourselves, but for our men and our children. Doing anything for self is completely verboten.
Reflecting now upon this, I see the connection between these ideals and why so many women eat or shop emotionally or become addicted to things like exercise or religion in ways which are destructive rather than constructive in their lives. It's just like the lying or refusal to do homework I mentioned in my previous post. These disordered behaviours come as an attempt to exert power in an environment where we feel powerless. They are merely misguided attempts to right a very fundamental wrong.
I lived for many years as what I thought was the dutiful wife and mother. Everything I did was at he service of others. As a "good" wife and mother I forgot myself completely, except when I would act out in some sort of negative way. Nearly five years ago now, my marriage pretty much completely fell apart. My husband wasn't really sure he wanted to stay married to me. And I have to tell you now in retrospect, that it was one of the very best things which EVER happened to me. I recognised that I was miserable; I was so divorced from who I really was that honestly,I wouldn't really wanted to have been married to me either. Having nothing to lose, I just decided that I was going to figure out who me was,start just being me, and make sure that I mattered in the scope of our family.
I found the courage to insist that I had needs and wants. I was not only a member of our family, but just as important as every other member of our family. Being an adult my needs might not be as immediate as those of the children, but they were not somehow less important. Because I was dedicated to trying to be a good mom, meeting my needs developed as something complimentary to meeting the needs of my children , rather than in conflict. I began to dress how I wanted, rather than how I thought moms should dress. I began to wear my hair crazy, because that's how I liked it. I began to make sure I ate healthfully and exercised regularly. I began to devour fiction again rather than endless parenting books. I began to write again. Eventually, I would make friends with people who I would make sure I spent time with in a regular way, because I am a complete extrovert and am really fed through interacting with others. I began listening to music I loved, even if it was loud and obnoxious and not at all mom-ly.
These external changes, really paved the way for the interior conversion of viewing myself through a compassionate lens. When I yelled at my kids, I learned to not only ask their forgiveness, but to honestly forgive myself. When I failed or made bad choices, I learned to look at that objectively but with understanding rather than self-degradation.
Over time that self-compassion in the immediate, began to extend to myself throughout my past as well. I could now look back and say "Wow! I really caused that person a lot of hurt. I didn't know at the time how much damage I was causing. I really regret doing that, but if I had known then what I do now, I would have acted differently", but simply as a statement of fact rather than as berating myself.
Which now brings me to the present on my journey of self compassion. This is where the concept of my brokenness being my gift to others is coming to fruition. I can look at my hurts and wounds and subsequent behaviours and offer them up to others to be able to say "Oh yes! I recognise that in my own life! I am not alone. Maybe I can enact some change, too." I can see value in my failures and struggles, rather than just how badly I have messed up. Also in the present I am working on putting self compassion into practice when things get rough. When the kids are refusing to clean up, or everyone is wild for bedtime, or the house is in complete chaos I am learning to step away rather than immediately reacting, breathing deep and reminding myself "You are safe. You are worthy of love. You have a voice. You have power in this situation. You have the ability to make choices to build connection rather than destroy it. You are safe."
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Confessions of a (Mostly) Reformed Yeller Part 2 of 7
Part 2: We need to understand where we've come from, and what the behaviour is truly about.
We Need To Understand Where We've Come From
This step, I think, can be very misunderstood. I believe there is a time in everyone's parenting life when we have to really look closely at how we were parented. We reject some of the practices and ideals with which we were raised; we accept and choose to implement some of the practices and ideals with which we were raised. Reading this makes it sound so objective and straightforward, but this step is often fraught with much heartache and grieving and release.
The point of looking backwards is not to cast and assign blame, neither is it to get mired in the past. At least one person I know is very reluctant to examine the past, feeling like it is a waste of time, that the present is all that matters. But I firmly believe, with all of my being that if we do not understand our past we can never be truly free from it and actually move to living in the present. If we leave wounds and scars festering and unhealed, we drag them into everything we do in the present. If we don't go back to make sense of our past, and understand how it has affected us, we can never move forward. We will always be bound by it and remain unable to enact lasting changes in our lives.
For me, this part of this step took a long, long time. After we moved to Georgia, we were so broke I often didn't have gas money to do anything more than go to the grocery store each week. For the first time in my life, I was forced to stay put. I had no friends. I spent a lot of time alone. It was so, so, so hard for me. In retrospect it was also very critical for me to have that forced isolation and lack of distraction. In this desert experience I began to really reflect on my past, beginning to understand how I had ended up where I was.
To say this was easy would be a complete and utter lie. It crushed me. It was additionally difficult to begin to understand some of the parts of my upbringing which I saw were very hurtful, while at the same time watching myself repeat some of those same patterns. That dissonance of a growing awareness of how much it has wounded me, but in turn creating the same kind of environment for my children really broke me.
During this time I realised that I always felt like I had to hustle for love. I believed that if I did, said, and performed all the right ways then people might love me. But in cruel irony, if I did start to feel loved by them I would shut it down, fearful that I would eventually no longer perform as I was supposed to and they'd realise how unlovable I was. Rather than risk the hurt of rejection, I would just flee.
I also realised how much my childhood involved walking on eggshells. There was a lack of clearly defined boundaries in all areas of our life. Something which might be okay one day, would meet with punishment the next day. Everything was dependent upon the emotional state of the adults. During this time of reflection, I came to understand how living like this was a constant source of stress and fear. I also realised that this is exactly what is was like for my children living in my home.
Over the next several years I would learn a lot. I really struggled to research and understand dysfunctional relationships. I read and read and researched and read. I needed to dissect it all so that I could make sense of it and understand just how it all was related to the behaviour I was having here in the present.
We Need To Understand What The Behaviour Is Truly About
This part of this second step is the whole purpose for delving into our past in the first place. I also think that it is a very, very scary part of the process, because we have to tap into feelings which are dark and deep. It is not just enough to stop after looking back at how we grew up and the major events which shaped who we are, if we want to enact change and rid our lives of a behaviour we don't want. We have to understand the why of the behaviour, so that we can begin to address the root cause. All behaviours, even negative ones, serve a purpose in our lives. In this case, if we can figure out what purpose yelling serves, what it does for us-then we can begin to make different choices to meet the same ends.
I think often people fail to enact lasting change in their lives because they skip this step. They simply try to change the symptoms. While that can work and be effective for the short term, in times of high stress or difficulty they end up falling back into old behaviour patterns. This is most definitely true for me over many years in regards to being a Yeller. I honestly believe that this step was one of the crucial ones I was skipping over, which kept me mired in the place where I knew without a doubt what kind of mom I did NOT want to be, but unable to consistently be the kind of mom I DID want to be.
I remember specifically a real breakthrough moment for me. I was sitting on the floor in the kitchen ranting and raving about the house being a disaster and reorganizing the tupperware which had been strewn about, and cleaning six other things at the same time in a frenzy. And this lightbulb went on in my head: "You feel like things are out of control, you feel powerless and so you are being the Whirling Screaming Dervish of Clean to impose control and a feeling of power."
And with that came a flood of new understanding. Not having a sense of control or power was one of the predominant characteristics of my life. As a child, there was the eggshell environment, as well as having things like chores re-done by someone else because they weren't done well enough, not just my bedroom needing to be clean, but even the drawers inside my desk, there was no sense of privacy. We moved when I was 11 and that was a huge blow, whhich left me feeling completely powerless over my life.
My reaction to those things was to seek ways to impose a feeling and sense of power and control. I would lie about where I was going or where I'd been-not because what I was doing (at that point) was in any way 'bad', but just simply to impose a sense of reclaiming power over my life. I would just refuse to do homework, again just to impose a sense of control.
When I was 14, just a few weeks shy of 15, I went to a party. There, while I was intoxicated, I was raped by two men. Though it would take me almost ten years to say and understand, "I was raped the first time I had sex", this rape was like the death knell for any hope of me developing any sort of deep sense of feeling safe and in a position of control. Even the very essence of my personhood wasn't safe from someone else exerting their will and dominance over. Once again, my behaviour pattern emerged as one which was negative, but served the positive (though misplaced)purpose of imposing a feeling of power, control and safety. For the next 4 years or so I was very promiscuous. I didn't understand this then, but it was an attempt to be the one in control of sex, to be in a position of power in regards to my body--sort of an attempt to rewrite the wrong which had been done. That rape really set into motion some very destructive behaviour patterns which simultaneously helped me feel some sort of control or power, as well as would reinforce the fundamental idea that I was worthless and unlovable. I needed all relationships to serve those two fundamental aspects. If I began to feel loved, I bailed. If I began to have to relinquish some position of power, I bailed.
Sitting on the floor in the kitchen that day, it all suddenly made so,so much sense why I was yelling and what that yelling was truly about. The first three babies we had were all very high need, but all in different ways. None of them slept well. I had no control over something as fundamental as my sleeping or bathing habits. I was living in a place I didn't want to be, in a house I didn't want to be in, with a man who didn't really like me, with no money and really no way to change any of these externals. So yelling at my kids was like so many other destructive behaviours before; it served the purpose of trying to impose a sense of control, power and safety.
I truly believe now, that all habitual yelling comes precisely from these same motivations. The particulars of why an individual feels powerless, out of control and unsafe vary widely; however, I think that it all stems from these same three basic principles.
Once I understood where my yelling was coming from, I was finally in a position to actually do something about it in a permanent way, because I could now address the root causes, instead of just the incidental triggers.
We Need To Understand Where We've Come From
This step, I think, can be very misunderstood. I believe there is a time in everyone's parenting life when we have to really look closely at how we were parented. We reject some of the practices and ideals with which we were raised; we accept and choose to implement some of the practices and ideals with which we were raised. Reading this makes it sound so objective and straightforward, but this step is often fraught with much heartache and grieving and release.
The point of looking backwards is not to cast and assign blame, neither is it to get mired in the past. At least one person I know is very reluctant to examine the past, feeling like it is a waste of time, that the present is all that matters. But I firmly believe, with all of my being that if we do not understand our past we can never be truly free from it and actually move to living in the present. If we leave wounds and scars festering and unhealed, we drag them into everything we do in the present. If we don't go back to make sense of our past, and understand how it has affected us, we can never move forward. We will always be bound by it and remain unable to enact lasting changes in our lives.
For me, this part of this step took a long, long time. After we moved to Georgia, we were so broke I often didn't have gas money to do anything more than go to the grocery store each week. For the first time in my life, I was forced to stay put. I had no friends. I spent a lot of time alone. It was so, so, so hard for me. In retrospect it was also very critical for me to have that forced isolation and lack of distraction. In this desert experience I began to really reflect on my past, beginning to understand how I had ended up where I was.
To say this was easy would be a complete and utter lie. It crushed me. It was additionally difficult to begin to understand some of the parts of my upbringing which I saw were very hurtful, while at the same time watching myself repeat some of those same patterns. That dissonance of a growing awareness of how much it has wounded me, but in turn creating the same kind of environment for my children really broke me.
During this time I realised that I always felt like I had to hustle for love. I believed that if I did, said, and performed all the right ways then people might love me. But in cruel irony, if I did start to feel loved by them I would shut it down, fearful that I would eventually no longer perform as I was supposed to and they'd realise how unlovable I was. Rather than risk the hurt of rejection, I would just flee.
I also realised how much my childhood involved walking on eggshells. There was a lack of clearly defined boundaries in all areas of our life. Something which might be okay one day, would meet with punishment the next day. Everything was dependent upon the emotional state of the adults. During this time of reflection, I came to understand how living like this was a constant source of stress and fear. I also realised that this is exactly what is was like for my children living in my home.
Over the next several years I would learn a lot. I really struggled to research and understand dysfunctional relationships. I read and read and researched and read. I needed to dissect it all so that I could make sense of it and understand just how it all was related to the behaviour I was having here in the present.
We Need To Understand What The Behaviour Is Truly About
This part of this second step is the whole purpose for delving into our past in the first place. I also think that it is a very, very scary part of the process, because we have to tap into feelings which are dark and deep. It is not just enough to stop after looking back at how we grew up and the major events which shaped who we are, if we want to enact change and rid our lives of a behaviour we don't want. We have to understand the why of the behaviour, so that we can begin to address the root cause. All behaviours, even negative ones, serve a purpose in our lives. In this case, if we can figure out what purpose yelling serves, what it does for us-then we can begin to make different choices to meet the same ends.
I think often people fail to enact lasting change in their lives because they skip this step. They simply try to change the symptoms. While that can work and be effective for the short term, in times of high stress or difficulty they end up falling back into old behaviour patterns. This is most definitely true for me over many years in regards to being a Yeller. I honestly believe that this step was one of the crucial ones I was skipping over, which kept me mired in the place where I knew without a doubt what kind of mom I did NOT want to be, but unable to consistently be the kind of mom I DID want to be.
I remember specifically a real breakthrough moment for me. I was sitting on the floor in the kitchen ranting and raving about the house being a disaster and reorganizing the tupperware which had been strewn about, and cleaning six other things at the same time in a frenzy. And this lightbulb went on in my head: "You feel like things are out of control, you feel powerless and so you are being the Whirling Screaming Dervish of Clean to impose control and a feeling of power."
And with that came a flood of new understanding. Not having a sense of control or power was one of the predominant characteristics of my life. As a child, there was the eggshell environment, as well as having things like chores re-done by someone else because they weren't done well enough, not just my bedroom needing to be clean, but even the drawers inside my desk, there was no sense of privacy. We moved when I was 11 and that was a huge blow, whhich left me feeling completely powerless over my life.
My reaction to those things was to seek ways to impose a feeling and sense of power and control. I would lie about where I was going or where I'd been-not because what I was doing (at that point) was in any way 'bad', but just simply to impose a sense of reclaiming power over my life. I would just refuse to do homework, again just to impose a sense of control.
When I was 14, just a few weeks shy of 15, I went to a party. There, while I was intoxicated, I was raped by two men. Though it would take me almost ten years to say and understand, "I was raped the first time I had sex", this rape was like the death knell for any hope of me developing any sort of deep sense of feeling safe and in a position of control. Even the very essence of my personhood wasn't safe from someone else exerting their will and dominance over. Once again, my behaviour pattern emerged as one which was negative, but served the positive (though misplaced)purpose of imposing a feeling of power, control and safety. For the next 4 years or so I was very promiscuous. I didn't understand this then, but it was an attempt to be the one in control of sex, to be in a position of power in regards to my body--sort of an attempt to rewrite the wrong which had been done. That rape really set into motion some very destructive behaviour patterns which simultaneously helped me feel some sort of control or power, as well as would reinforce the fundamental idea that I was worthless and unlovable. I needed all relationships to serve those two fundamental aspects. If I began to feel loved, I bailed. If I began to have to relinquish some position of power, I bailed.
Sitting on the floor in the kitchen that day, it all suddenly made so,so much sense why I was yelling and what that yelling was truly about. The first three babies we had were all very high need, but all in different ways. None of them slept well. I had no control over something as fundamental as my sleeping or bathing habits. I was living in a place I didn't want to be, in a house I didn't want to be in, with a man who didn't really like me, with no money and really no way to change any of these externals. So yelling at my kids was like so many other destructive behaviours before; it served the purpose of trying to impose a sense of control, power and safety.
I truly believe now, that all habitual yelling comes precisely from these same motivations. The particulars of why an individual feels powerless, out of control and unsafe vary widely; however, I think that it all stems from these same three basic principles.
Once I understood where my yelling was coming from, I was finally in a position to actually do something about it in a permanent way, because I could now address the root causes, instead of just the incidental triggers.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Confessions of a (Mostly) Reformed Yeller Part 1 of 7
Introduction
Over the past several weeks, I have been involved in four separate discussion about yelling at your kids. It's something I can deeply relate to, as during the first 8 years of my parenting life yelling was my greatest struggle. I plead with heaven to miraculously remove this defect from me. I went to counseling to help me. I read all the right books. I wept bitter tears about how much I was failing as a mom because of this embedded defect. Interestingly, relief only came as a side effect of things getting to a really, really low point in my marriage. Now that I have some distance from it all, I understand it all much better. I will share some of my story and what I believe to be the road to joining me in the Reformed Yeller club. I will break each of these steps down in separate posts, and finish with a conclusion which will include why I think some yelling actually gets a bum rap.
Initially, let me offer what I believe to be a portrait of a Yeller. First and foremost, I believe that most people who yell at their kids are very committed to being good parents. They feel deeply the responsibility they have to raise their kids up "right". Secondly, their own childhoods probably contained some sort of dysfunction, from mild to massive. In addition, I think Yellers are people for whom feeling powerless is very scary. In a way which is very real to them, the feeling of things being out of control makes them feel unsafe. Yelling is a way to regain a sense of power, re-establish a feeling of control, and restore a sense of safety.
As with all undesirable behaviour we would like to change, we need to do six things:
- 1.) We need to be honest, identify the behaviour, and admit we would like to change it.
- 2.) We need to understand where we've come from, and what the behaviour is truly about.
- 3. We need to learn and practice self-compassion and compassion for others, forgiveness and the readiness to seek forgiveness.
- 4.) We need to relinquish our unrealistic expectations, both of ourselves and others.
- 5.)We need to learn new skills and tools, both to stop the unwanted behaviour as well as to constructively fill in the void left by eliminating the behaviour we no longer want.
- 6.) We need to cultivate the practice of awareness, mindfulness, and being immersed in the present, so that we can effectively apply the skills and tools we've learned and acquired.
Part 1: We need to be honest, identify the behaviour, and admit we would like to change it.
As they say, the first step is admitting you have a problem. However getting to that point, often means that things have gotten pretty bad. That is after all, sort of the definition of "a problem". It sounds so easy when you read it, but I have found in my life that it is often very difficult to look at yourself squarely and say "Self. This sucks. This behaviour isn't serving you or others. In fact, it's causing you to be the exact opposite of the person you want to be. Let's rally here and change this!"
When Tim (our oldest) was just shy of age 4, and Lucy was around nine months old was my first real stark awakening in regards to my yelling. I mean, I knew I yelled, but I don't think I really understood the scope of it. My husband had been working overnight for much of the time Lucy was a baby. He also delivered newspapers in the afternoons and weekend mornings. Essentially, I saw him for about one or two sleepy and grumpy hours every day. Tim never slept more than two hours in a row for two years. Lucy slept even worse, being up every 45 minutes until around 18 months--but also really hating the sling. I was tired. I was worn out. And I didn't know back then how to ask for help. And I also didn't know that massive post-partum depression consumed me after every child.
The summer when Tim was about to turn 4 and Lucy was a baby, my husband left Annapolis and went down to Georgia to work in anticipation of us moving to where he grew up. I stayed in Maryland so that Tim could celebrate his birthday in September with his friends there, and so my husband could prepare the way for us. It was so, so, so stressful. The house we were moving to was a disaster, my husband was taking a HUGE paycut, I was giving up all of the really close friends I made, we were moving out into the sticks. It was just immense. I felt utterly consumed and entirely powerless in my life. And my children bore the brunt of that.
Two of my very best friends at the time, came over one day that summer. They staged an intervention. They said , "Shannon. You are struggling. And your yelling is just no good. We're here to help." I am so eternally grateful that they had the courage to do that, and loved me enough not to just let me go on down the path I was headed down unchecked.
That was the first time that I admitted that I had a yelling problem and that I would like to change. It would be many years until I was able to enact long term effective change, and I had to make that admission many times. I had no idea about how to get from who I was to who I wanted to be. Over the next several posts I will share that journey with you.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Poetry Fridays
It's Poetry Friday. Let's go into our weekend prepared "to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life". Every Friday post a poem- yours or someone else's.
Transfiguration
This mountain is her temple, to which she
ascends through briar-tangled valleys of shadow,
where she waits greedily to suckle from
the sun as it rises, filling her belly with fire.
Satiated, the tips of her hair glow,
emblazoning her with a halo infused with
ancient power, raw and elemental.
Handmaid of the cosmos, her soul is magnified.
Shaman wizard woman who holds the light
of a thousand generations before and after.
Outstretched Orans hands radiate the prayer
of touching birth and life and lovers and death.
Crowned heraldess of the stars, she calls forth
the serpents and dragons to stand upon their backs.
They carry her down to the world of men,
returning , disguised again behind wrinkled eyes.
1.21.11
Transfiguration
This mountain is her temple, to which she
ascends through briar-tangled valleys of shadow,
where she waits greedily to suckle from
the sun as it rises, filling her belly with fire.
Satiated, the tips of her hair glow,
emblazoning her with a halo infused with
ancient power, raw and elemental.
Handmaid of the cosmos, her soul is magnified.
Shaman wizard woman who holds the light
of a thousand generations before and after.
Outstretched Orans hands radiate the prayer
of touching birth and life and lovers and death.
Crowned heraldess of the stars, she calls forth
the serpents and dragons to stand upon their backs.
They carry her down to the world of men,
returning , disguised again behind wrinkled eyes.
1.21.11
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Shhhhhhh...
........be very, very quiet. And definitely don't call. Undisturbed stillness, quiet and the telephone are the quintessential kid magnets. Nothing beckons kids faster into a space than silence and a freshly vacuumed floor. Nothing assures children to arrive at your side faster than picking up the telephone.
It's not that I don't like my children, mind you. I really, really do. We mostly have a great time together. We're loud and messy and laugh a lot and fight with passion. We listen to lots of music and dance and create lots and lots of stuff. We all are pretty up front with what we want, and pretty vocal about when our needs aren't being met. They're awesome people who I like being around. But it's loud and messy and obnoxious and emotional. And there are just.so.many. of them.
So in the late afternoon when there are girls at gym practice, and the baby is sleeping, and the other two are playing together or watching a movie--this is my time. It's the pause, the inhale before the craziness of pick up times all conveniently one hour apart (just enough time to come home, take my coat off, and go out again), of dinner time (I swear to you if there was just one food that they all liked I think I would serve it every day), and of bedtime (which, being a slacker is no big deal to me--but my husband insists that our children actually go to sleep. Tyrant!).
I used to feel so selfish taking these moments. I used to be unable to sit and enjoy a cup of tea and a few pages of a book. I used to be unable to just be still- body, mind and soul when I knew there were chores undone, and laundry to be folded, and dinner to be started, and, and, and... But not any more. Those things will always be there for me to do. Taking these few minutes to only do what I want to do, to practice and submerge myself in awareness and the present and mindfulness is one of the greatest tools I have to take these things with me into the evenings to cultivate joy and rumpus.
So don't let them hear you come in....the kettle is on, there's some cheese and crackers on the table. Sit down. Breathe. Be. And then get ready for all hell to break loose in about 10 minutes.
And yes that is still my Christmas tree up which will be up for a couple more weeks, and we won't discuss what's on the floor around the corner.
It's not that I don't like my children, mind you. I really, really do. We mostly have a great time together. We're loud and messy and laugh a lot and fight with passion. We listen to lots of music and dance and create lots and lots of stuff. We all are pretty up front with what we want, and pretty vocal about when our needs aren't being met. They're awesome people who I like being around. But it's loud and messy and obnoxious and emotional. And there are just.so.many. of them.
So in the late afternoon when there are girls at gym practice, and the baby is sleeping, and the other two are playing together or watching a movie--this is my time. It's the pause, the inhale before the craziness of pick up times all conveniently one hour apart (just enough time to come home, take my coat off, and go out again), of dinner time (I swear to you if there was just one food that they all liked I think I would serve it every day), and of bedtime (which, being a slacker is no big deal to me--but my husband insists that our children actually go to sleep. Tyrant!).
I used to feel so selfish taking these moments. I used to be unable to sit and enjoy a cup of tea and a few pages of a book. I used to be unable to just be still- body, mind and soul when I knew there were chores undone, and laundry to be folded, and dinner to be started, and, and, and... But not any more. Those things will always be there for me to do. Taking these few minutes to only do what I want to do, to practice and submerge myself in awareness and the present and mindfulness is one of the greatest tools I have to take these things with me into the evenings to cultivate joy and rumpus.
So don't let them hear you come in....the kettle is on, there's some cheese and crackers on the table. Sit down. Breathe. Be. And then get ready for all hell to break loose in about 10 minutes.
And yes that is still my Christmas tree up which will be up for a couple more weeks, and we won't discuss what's on the floor around the corner.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Dilemma
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking , "AAAWWwwwwwwwwww!" Because evolution has hard wired us to have hearts that turn to mush when we see sleeping children. No matter how wretched their behaviour has been, we can't help but think how beautiful they are when they're softly breathing their little breaths of sleep.
If you're a certain type of person you might also be thinking, "Oh dear GAWD! What a seriously unsafe sleep space!"--but then you probably don't have six kids, and probably haven't learned to accept sleep wherever, however it happens. Like I have.
Until now. I mean, I have undergone more sleep deprivation in the past thirteen years than if I had spent it in Guantanamo Bay or hell, even North Korea as a political prisoner. I have literally learned how to deal with years on end of not sleeping more than an hour or two in a row. One of the ways you deal with that is to accept sleep in whatever strange position or environment in which it might possibly happen. That might mean with a child draped across three laps while watching The Godfather. It might mean curled up and tucked away safely in their own bed. Or it might mean what it often means for us, baby is in a pile of pillows and blankets with random furniture moved closer to give me the illusion that it's safer. With the radio blaring. His oldest brother is convinced there are certain Beatles' songs which actually put the baby to sleep. My husband thinks I condition them to sleep to loud, punk rock music in the car when they are little.
But here I sit. Sincerely contemplating waking this little boy up. Seriously. Because the entire house is filling with the aroma of his poop, which he stealthily let fly as he fell asleep. It was one of those poops where it sneaks out all quiet and spy like, but then turns out to smell like a weapon of mass destruction. I am so conflicted with the thought of him sleeping with a poopy diaper. I know he'll be sore if I leave it. Gah. I am immobilised with conflict.
I can barely keep from gagging...but I mean LOOK at him.
Look how sweetly he is sleeping. And look how quiet and peaceful the rest of my house is. And look how my Dickens' novel is calling to me and reminding me that what I really want is some tea. And did I mention the quiet and the peace and the tea? Sigh.....let me go get the wipes...but first I think I'll put the kettle on.
Friday, December 31, 2010
What Have You Read 2010? What Do You Hope To Read 2011?
We did this at the end of the year last year, and so I suppose it shall become the very first regular feature of my very irregular blog.
The Challenge: What have you read this past year? What was your favorite? What was your least favorite? What book would you most recommend to others to read? Also list one or two reading goals for next year. What do you hope to read? Do you hope to read more? Do you hope to read more of a particular type of material?
Even if you haven't read any books- what blogs, news sources, message boards, or magazines have you read?
Either leave your list in the comments or on your own blog with a link in the comments!!
What I Have Read 2010
My Detachment Tracy Kidder
Dog Soldiers Robert Stone
A Soldier's Heart Elizabet Samet
Generation Kill Evan Wright
Lolita Nabokov
The Quiet American Graham Greene
Girl With The ( fucking) Dragon Tattoo Steig Larson
Count Of Monte Cristo Alexandre Dumas
Mountains Beyond Mountains Tracy Kidder
The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao Junot Dias
Gifts Of Imperfection Brene Brown
One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest Ken Kesey
Paco's Story Larry Heinemann
Favorite: Read some very life changing and really great books this year it's hard to narrow it down. Least Favorite: Duh...Girl With The Dragon Tattoo . What Everyone Should Read: Cuckoo's Nest, Gifts of Imperfection, Generation Kill.
I did complete the War Through the Generations Challenge! Woot! (But only since they counted movies ...lol!) Next year is the American Civil War, and there is not much from there which calls to me to read right now, so I might skip it.
Goals for 2011
Really to just try to read steadily. I got waaay bogged down in several books this year, and that always spells disaster. I even quit in the middle of a couple books, and that is very unlike me. I'd like to read some Dicken's this year--it's been a couple years since I've read him and I miss him. Would like to read Henry Miller, too--I feel like he is a big gap in my American reading.
The Challenge: What have you read this past year? What was your favorite? What was your least favorite? What book would you most recommend to others to read? Also list one or two reading goals for next year. What do you hope to read? Do you hope to read more? Do you hope to read more of a particular type of material?
Even if you haven't read any books- what blogs, news sources, message boards, or magazines have you read?
Either leave your list in the comments or on your own blog with a link in the comments!!
What I Have Read 2010
My Detachment Tracy Kidder
Dog Soldiers Robert Stone
A Soldier's Heart Elizabet Samet
Generation Kill Evan Wright
Lolita Nabokov
The Quiet American Graham Greene
Girl With The ( fucking) Dragon Tattoo Steig Larson
Count Of Monte Cristo Alexandre Dumas
Mountains Beyond Mountains Tracy Kidder
The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao Junot Dias
Gifts Of Imperfection Brene Brown
One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest Ken Kesey
Paco's Story Larry Heinemann
Favorite: Read some very life changing and really great books this year it's hard to narrow it down. Least Favorite: Duh...Girl With The Dragon Tattoo . What Everyone Should Read: Cuckoo's Nest, Gifts of Imperfection, Generation Kill.
I did complete the War Through the Generations Challenge! Woot! (But only since they counted movies ...lol!) Next year is the American Civil War, and there is not much from there which calls to me to read right now, so I might skip it.
Goals for 2011
Really to just try to read steadily. I got waaay bogged down in several books this year, and that always spells disaster. I even quit in the middle of a couple books, and that is very unlike me. I'd like to read some Dicken's this year--it's been a couple years since I've read him and I miss him. Would like to read Henry Miller, too--I feel like he is a big gap in my American reading.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Family Jornal Project
We started our Family Journaling Project this past week. My husband and I, and our three oldest kiddos (ages 13, 10 and 7 3/4) started journaling together on nights when my husband is home from work. The kids have really seemed to love it. My husband seems to be passing a constipated bowel movement during the whole thing.
So far this is how it's worked. I have scoured the internet for some sort of writing prompt. When we settle in together, I share the prompt. Everyone writes or draws their response. Then I ask if anyone wants to share what they've written or drawn, but remind them that sharing is completely optional. No one has to share anything.
Any ideas for future prompts are very, very welcome! Any input or ideas of any kind is also very welcome. I am totally making this up as I go along, so appreciate all input and guidance.
The first night we went over the Journal Rules: You are allowed to write or draw anything you want in your journal. Anything. You never have to share anything you don't want to from your journal, but you may share anything you'd like. Journals are PRIVATE. No one has permission UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES to read or look in another person's journal, without their express permission. By express permission I mean: that they are right there with you in the same room while you are reading and they said that it was okay that same hour. Someone sharing something with you once does NOT give you permission to look in their journal whenever you want.
So far these have been our prompts:
So far this is how it's worked. I have scoured the internet for some sort of writing prompt. When we settle in together, I share the prompt. Everyone writes or draws their response. Then I ask if anyone wants to share what they've written or drawn, but remind them that sharing is completely optional. No one has to share anything.
Any ideas for future prompts are very, very welcome! Any input or ideas of any kind is also very welcome. I am totally making this up as I go along, so appreciate all input and guidance.
The first night we went over the Journal Rules: You are allowed to write or draw anything you want in your journal. Anything. You never have to share anything you don't want to from your journal, but you may share anything you'd like. Journals are PRIVATE. No one has permission UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES to read or look in another person's journal, without their express permission. By express permission I mean: that they are right there with you in the same room while you are reading and they said that it was okay that same hour. Someone sharing something with you once does NOT give you permission to look in their journal whenever you want.So far these have been our prompts:
What is your superpower?
What is your kryptonite?
Draw or describe your supersuit, super lair, or super mobile.
(all of those were taken from here )
Describe a time when you were courageous.
What is your biggest fear?
Draw the depths of your heart.Tonight these will be our prompts:
Write about the worst day of your life. What made it so bad? What, if anything, did you learn from that day?
Write about the best day, or a great day of your life. What made it so good? What, if anything, did you learn from that day?
Write and acrostic poem using your name, using only positive adjectives or attributes to describe yourself.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Teaching Introspection & The Importance of Simply Being Together
The other day, I had an idea. I developed an interview, and asked each of my children a handful of questions about our family life. The oldest ones, in turn, are working on an interview for my husband and I. I had a two-fold purpose for this project.
First, I wanted to gain a sense of how the kids view our family, so that I could focus my parenting efforts playing to our strengths and emphasizing our assets. At the same time, starkly looking at our failings as a family, understanding how they affect all of us, and trying to figure out the root causes of those challenges which seem to plague us.
I think I am probably not alone as a parent getting stuck in focusing on the things going badly. We struggle with the same few things it seems over and over again. Picking up toys and projects and belongings left out is a monumental struggle every.single.day. Everyone seems to be vying for the attention of a parent or a sibling or a spouse almost non-stop, which can manifest itself in a plethora of negativity- ranging from hyper-competitiveness to down right cruelty. My perception (though it turns out to be a flawed one) was that we lacked a cohesive group identity, which is essential in fostering team work. I thought interviewing the kids about their perceptions of our family might give me some clues about what steps I might take to end this repetitive struggle with the same handful of issues. I was really unprepared for what I found out, but at the same time very pleased with what I found out. It will require some more self-searching and honesty on my part about the why of some of my own behaviour patterns, but what excited me was that moving forward is something that is definitely doable.
The second purpose was to encourage introspection amongst the children. Giving them a starting place and some practice thinking about their lives and communicating what they uncover. I also wanted them to have the experience of sharing their thoughts and hearts out loud with me in an environment of safety non-judgment. I began each interview telling them that there are no right or wrong answers, no better or worse answers. I just wanted the most honest answers they could give. I would not be angry or hurt by anything they had to say.
Here are the interview questions:
The underlying theme in all of the information I gathered was that more than anything our greatest asset as a family is just simply being together. Our greatest detriment is when we are not working together, or when any one of us is not open to togetherness. Having fun together and playing together is really important, but interestingly not something we do very well at overall. Honestly, what I found out is that the simple act of being physically together so much goes a long way, and the best way to improve what is lacking is by spending more time together having fun-both with our parent child relationships, as well as sibling to sibling relationships.
This is great news to me, and gives words to the feelings and sense of things I have been forming for several years. I have been telling people who ask why we homeschool for quite awhile now that it comes down to really just being a close knit family, with an emphasis an learning how to create and live in healthy relationships. We are all a part of one another's lives in a very intimate way. I know what my kids are doing. They know what I am doing. I know all of their friends and all of their friends' parents. They know all of my friends. I know the other adults in their lives. They watch me struggling and fighting to be the best person I can be. They witness my many, many mistakes and watch me apologize, try to make amends, and then try to gain the skills to do things differently in the future, even if that change is a long time coming. I know the things with which they are really struggling, so even if I can't help them I can be a witness to their struggle and cheer them on when they have a victory.
However, I think this information is also going to really require some more fine honed work on my part. I think I really need to understand where my disengagement comes from. I need to really seek out what the underlying shame there is, which makes me feel at times unworthy of connection with the kiddos. I need to work really diligently on balance in my life, so that I can be fully present more of the time. I need to try harder to incorporate the realities of a 1 year old into the fabric of the day of the rest of the children, instead of just sort of expecting them to wait another six months to have their mommy "back".
This has all also yielded to another project which I will share as it develops. We are going to start journaling together as a family. I will borrow a lot of other people's questions from the internet as well as create my own and encourage the kids to create questions. My husband has agreed to join us. I think it might be a great experience. I have never been much of a journal keeper, so I look forward to what will come.
First, I wanted to gain a sense of how the kids view our family, so that I could focus my parenting efforts playing to our strengths and emphasizing our assets. At the same time, starkly looking at our failings as a family, understanding how they affect all of us, and trying to figure out the root causes of those challenges which seem to plague us.
I think I am probably not alone as a parent getting stuck in focusing on the things going badly. We struggle with the same few things it seems over and over again. Picking up toys and projects and belongings left out is a monumental struggle every.single.day. Everyone seems to be vying for the attention of a parent or a sibling or a spouse almost non-stop, which can manifest itself in a plethora of negativity- ranging from hyper-competitiveness to down right cruelty. My perception (though it turns out to be a flawed one) was that we lacked a cohesive group identity, which is essential in fostering team work. I thought interviewing the kids about their perceptions of our family might give me some clues about what steps I might take to end this repetitive struggle with the same handful of issues. I was really unprepared for what I found out, but at the same time very pleased with what I found out. It will require some more self-searching and honesty on my part about the why of some of my own behaviour patterns, but what excited me was that moving forward is something that is definitely doable.
The second purpose was to encourage introspection amongst the children. Giving them a starting place and some practice thinking about their lives and communicating what they uncover. I also wanted them to have the experience of sharing their thoughts and hearts out loud with me in an environment of safety non-judgment. I began each interview telling them that there are no right or wrong answers, no better or worse answers. I just wanted the most honest answers they could give. I would not be angry or hurt by anything they had to say.
Here are the interview questions:
1.) What do you like best about being in our family?
2.) What would you change about our family if you could?
3.)What do you think you will struggle with the most as a grown up? What do you think Mommy struggles with most? Daddy?
4.) Imagine yourself as a 25 year old and someone asks you, "What was it like growing upin your family?" What is your answer to them?
5.) What do you hope our family life is like when you are all grown ups?
6.) Which one of your siblings do you feel you have the closest relationship to? Why? Which one do you wish you were closer to? Why?
7.) What do you feel is our greatest strength as a family?
8.) What do you feel is our greatest weakness?
9.) Any other thoughts or comments about growing up in our family that you think are important?
The underlying theme in all of the information I gathered was that more than anything our greatest asset as a family is just simply being together. Our greatest detriment is when we are not working together, or when any one of us is not open to togetherness. Having fun together and playing together is really important, but interestingly not something we do very well at overall. Honestly, what I found out is that the simple act of being physically together so much goes a long way, and the best way to improve what is lacking is by spending more time together having fun-both with our parent child relationships, as well as sibling to sibling relationships.
This is great news to me, and gives words to the feelings and sense of things I have been forming for several years. I have been telling people who ask why we homeschool for quite awhile now that it comes down to really just being a close knit family, with an emphasis an learning how to create and live in healthy relationships. We are all a part of one another's lives in a very intimate way. I know what my kids are doing. They know what I am doing. I know all of their friends and all of their friends' parents. They know all of my friends. I know the other adults in their lives. They watch me struggling and fighting to be the best person I can be. They witness my many, many mistakes and watch me apologize, try to make amends, and then try to gain the skills to do things differently in the future, even if that change is a long time coming. I know the things with which they are really struggling, so even if I can't help them I can be a witness to their struggle and cheer them on when they have a victory.
However, I think this information is also going to really require some more fine honed work on my part. I think I really need to understand where my disengagement comes from. I need to really seek out what the underlying shame there is, which makes me feel at times unworthy of connection with the kiddos. I need to work really diligently on balance in my life, so that I can be fully present more of the time. I need to try harder to incorporate the realities of a 1 year old into the fabric of the day of the rest of the children, instead of just sort of expecting them to wait another six months to have their mommy "back".
This has all also yielded to another project which I will share as it develops. We are going to start journaling together as a family. I will borrow a lot of other people's questions from the internet as well as create my own and encourage the kids to create questions. My husband has agreed to join us. I think it might be a great experience. I have never been much of a journal keeper, so I look forward to what will come.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
For Veteran's Day- A Poem by Brain Turner
Sadiq
It is a condition of wisdom in the archer to be patient
because when the arrow leaves the bow, it returns no more.
Sa’di
because when the arrow leaves the bow, it returns no more.
Sa’di
It should make you shake and sweat,
of irrevocable desolation, the consequences
seared into the vein, no matter what adrenaline
feeds the muscle its courage, no matter
what god shines down on you, no matter
what crackling pain and anger
you carry in your fists, my friend,
it should break your heart to kill.
Brian Turner's debut collection, Here, Bullet, won the 2005 Beatrice Hawley Award from Alice James Books. He earned an MFA from the University of Oregon before serving for seven years in the US Army. He was an infantry team leader for a year in Iraq with the 3rd Stryker Brigade Combat Team, 2nd Infantry Division, and prior to that was deployed to Bosnia-Herzegovina with the 10th Mountain Division. His poetry has been published in Poetry Daily, The Georgia Review, American War Poems: An Anthology, and in the Voices in Wartime Anthology published in conjunction with the feature-length documentary film of the same name. He currently lives in California.
http://webdelsol.com/LITARTS/Alice_James_Books/Turner/Brian_Turner_chapbook.html
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Struggling to Make Sense of Love
I read something a few weeks ago that really, really challenged me. There was a list (oh, how my quantitative soul LOVES a list!) of dysfunctional behaviours and thoughts. Most of my life since becoming a mother has involved admitting how flawed I am in how I relate with myself and others and trying to gain skills and tools to heal and learn new patterns. These sorts of lists have served me well over time, since I came to adulthood pretty much completely unaware of what healthy relationships with others and myself actually look like. A huge part of moving toward wholeness for me has involved understanding what wholeness is not. I have gotten my ass kicked pretty routinely by truths I have encountered, but this time I feel like I was given a body blow. It reached a very deep place , where I believe the last vestiges of shrugging off personal responsibility lie. I am still processing through it all.
What did it say? This list? Well, essentially that a feeling of “If X, Y, or Z would just love me as he/she ought, things would be better,” is inherently dysfunctional.
Except this is exactly how I have felt for most of my married life. And even as I write this to release it and move on, I am crying. I really, really just want to be scooped up and loved and have my love accepted in return. (And here I will remind you once again--if you don’t think any of this is appropriate to hash out in a public sphere, no one is forcing you to read this. Click that little x in the right hand corner of your screen.)
In the beginning, this feeling was a position to hide behind, offering protection when I didn’t feel like enacting change in myself. It was a fortress where I could relinquish blame for the way things were. The suck was obviously NOT my fault. You, whoever you were, just weren’t loving me “right”.
I grew up always feeling like the black sheep, always feeling misunderstood. At one point as a teenager we went to family counseling to help me with “my” problems, where the counselor tried to implicate our entire family and well, let’s just say that we never went back to that quack who couldn’t see that my struggles and rebellion weren’t just my own damn fault. And so there is a very real sense in which the core of me really needed the people in my life to just love me as they ought. And when the didn’t, my response was quite simply. “Fuck them!”
But I carried this wounded part with me into adulthood. I carry it still, though it has morphed and manifested itself in other ways which I keep confronting and try to work through. I have long since accepted the messiness of raising children, and know that my parents did and gave the best they knew to do out of the best of intentions. While that acceptance has brought peace and forgiveness, I think I haven’t totally and honestly just looked that wounded little girl in the face, given her a hug and said “Good bye!”.
As I thought about this whole dynamic when confronted by this list, I think my difficulty lies in the fact that no longer is the feeling of believing “ if I was just loved as I ought to be “something which I hide behind. It is no longer a deflection of blame. I think it has transformed into an assertion that dammit , I am WORTH loving. And I am a phenomenal person to be loved by in return. But it is also a truth that being loved by me is not for the faint of heart. I have an immense capacity for loving people as they are, where they are at, but it is equally true that I want that love to change those who encounter it and experience it. Not by any pre-set criteria that I have, but that my love, my presence is fuel for them to seek out and find that change which they need to enact in order to be the best them they can be. Once again through big tears, I can definitely say that in our 14 years together my spouse has remained essentially unchanged in response to this heart, this love, this soul. And I am struggling to make sense of that, to make peace with it, to look it in it's brutal eyes , breathe it in and accept it. Without blame. For me or for him.
Which brings me back to make sense of the whole idea of “if I was just loved as I ought to be”. I think now, in the present it would better be expressed “if I was just allowed to love as I desire to love”, my life would be better. I want a healthy, mutually interdependent love where love feeds on itself and manifests into greatness. And I don’t believe that to just be the love of fairy tales and chick flicks. I know love is messy and scary and sometimes looks like and smells like shit. I do want to experience love as it “ought” to be, but this is no longer born out of dysfunction but from a place of certainty that not only am I enough, but that I really kind of rule. And so does the rest of humanity. We have a capacity for greatness if we can just get over being so afraid.
Writing this all out, I see a sort of triumph here. I see myself moving past lists and other outside determinants for what health and wholeness is. I find a woman who is able to wrestle through and determine what truth is. I find someone who is willing to accept that all that she’s come to conclude here, might in fact be wrong, and willing to amend it all if there is more or greater insight through her experience or interactions with others. I see a parting embrace to that wounded young girl who felt so let down by her world, and a wide warm welcome for the strong and amazing woman who has grown up in her place. I am here and I know that I must love myself with radical acceptance, and the humility to understand that before any external change can take place, I must first have the courage to be willing to change myself.
And if you have read this far, let me just leave you with this: Be open to the love in your life. Allowing other people to love you is not only a gift to yourself, but a gift to them. If you have a spouse or significant other in your life who is willing to be vulnerable before you, thank them for honoring you with that gift. And if you have work you need to do within yourself, know, without a doubt that I am here with you, to at least walk next to you so you are not alone as you do it.
What did it say? This list? Well, essentially that a feeling of “If X, Y, or Z would just love me as he/she ought, things would be better,” is inherently dysfunctional.
Except this is exactly how I have felt for most of my married life. And even as I write this to release it and move on, I am crying. I really, really just want to be scooped up and loved and have my love accepted in return. (And here I will remind you once again--if you don’t think any of this is appropriate to hash out in a public sphere, no one is forcing you to read this. Click that little x in the right hand corner of your screen.)
In the beginning, this feeling was a position to hide behind, offering protection when I didn’t feel like enacting change in myself. It was a fortress where I could relinquish blame for the way things were. The suck was obviously NOT my fault. You, whoever you were, just weren’t loving me “right”.
I grew up always feeling like the black sheep, always feeling misunderstood. At one point as a teenager we went to family counseling to help me with “my” problems, where the counselor tried to implicate our entire family and well, let’s just say that we never went back to that quack who couldn’t see that my struggles and rebellion weren’t just my own damn fault. And so there is a very real sense in which the core of me really needed the people in my life to just love me as they ought. And when the didn’t, my response was quite simply. “Fuck them!”
But I carried this wounded part with me into adulthood. I carry it still, though it has morphed and manifested itself in other ways which I keep confronting and try to work through. I have long since accepted the messiness of raising children, and know that my parents did and gave the best they knew to do out of the best of intentions. While that acceptance has brought peace and forgiveness, I think I haven’t totally and honestly just looked that wounded little girl in the face, given her a hug and said “Good bye!”.
As I thought about this whole dynamic when confronted by this list, I think my difficulty lies in the fact that no longer is the feeling of believing “ if I was just loved as I ought to be “something which I hide behind. It is no longer a deflection of blame. I think it has transformed into an assertion that dammit , I am WORTH loving. And I am a phenomenal person to be loved by in return. But it is also a truth that being loved by me is not for the faint of heart. I have an immense capacity for loving people as they are, where they are at, but it is equally true that I want that love to change those who encounter it and experience it. Not by any pre-set criteria that I have, but that my love, my presence is fuel for them to seek out and find that change which they need to enact in order to be the best them they can be. Once again through big tears, I can definitely say that in our 14 years together my spouse has remained essentially unchanged in response to this heart, this love, this soul. And I am struggling to make sense of that, to make peace with it, to look it in it's brutal eyes , breathe it in and accept it. Without blame. For me or for him.
Which brings me back to make sense of the whole idea of “if I was just loved as I ought to be”. I think now, in the present it would better be expressed “if I was just allowed to love as I desire to love”, my life would be better. I want a healthy, mutually interdependent love where love feeds on itself and manifests into greatness. And I don’t believe that to just be the love of fairy tales and chick flicks. I know love is messy and scary and sometimes looks like and smells like shit. I do want to experience love as it “ought” to be, but this is no longer born out of dysfunction but from a place of certainty that not only am I enough, but that I really kind of rule. And so does the rest of humanity. We have a capacity for greatness if we can just get over being so afraid.
Writing this all out, I see a sort of triumph here. I see myself moving past lists and other outside determinants for what health and wholeness is. I find a woman who is able to wrestle through and determine what truth is. I find someone who is willing to accept that all that she’s come to conclude here, might in fact be wrong, and willing to amend it all if there is more or greater insight through her experience or interactions with others. I see a parting embrace to that wounded young girl who felt so let down by her world, and a wide warm welcome for the strong and amazing woman who has grown up in her place. I am here and I know that I must love myself with radical acceptance, and the humility to understand that before any external change can take place, I must first have the courage to be willing to change myself.
And if you have read this far, let me just leave you with this: Be open to the love in your life. Allowing other people to love you is not only a gift to yourself, but a gift to them. If you have a spouse or significant other in your life who is willing to be vulnerable before you, thank them for honoring you with that gift. And if you have work you need to do within yourself, know, without a doubt that I am here with you, to at least walk next to you so you are not alone as you do it.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Joyful Life
I made this as a present for my kiddos. I am hoping to make a slide show of the incredible pictures I have from Michael's birth (Thank you Jennifer!), and wanted some practice with the movie making software. It's imperfect, but has lots of great pictures. I couldn't figure out how to permanently delete the camera name which keeps appearing briefly at the bottom of the page.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
To Michael On His First Birthday
To Michael On His First Birthday
There is that you in a far off dreamtime
Where you were so new and wrinkled
Smelling not yet of this world.
So many faces surround you with
Wonder and awe, marveling in
Humility before you.
We built a fortress
And the wise women gathered
Who fed us and came to you
Each kissing you leaving a mark
On your soul with her gifts.
You discovered the allure of the night
Resisting sleep so that all secrets
Could be yours to hold
Because life and death merge
In the shadow lands.
All wisdom is held there.
Those days are whispers,
Sounds almost heard but dampened
By the fog rolling in after midnight
As backyard dogs howl guttural and wild,
Lonely for the pack.
You became a great teacher, who
Trusting in depths within my soul ,
Compelled me to return again to the abyss
But the wise women were there
Reminding me to learn from you
And to not be afraid.
Now closer to the mouth of the cavern,
Daylight dances haphazardly on the walls.
We linger in the darkness so we
Are not blinded as we emerge
And lose our way.
Your little hand rests in mine,
Our hearts and breathing fused.
My great spirit guide,
I know you will not leave me
For we are one now and
Our shared strength is unconquerable.
There is that you in a far off dreamtime
Where you were so new and wrinkled
Smelling not yet of this world.
So many faces surround you with
Wonder and awe, marveling in
Humility before you.
We built a fortress
And the wise women gathered
Who fed us and came to you
Each kissing you leaving a mark
On your soul with her gifts.
You discovered the allure of the night
Resisting sleep so that all secrets
Could be yours to hold
Because life and death merge
In the shadow lands.
All wisdom is held there.
Those days are whispers,
Sounds almost heard but dampened
By the fog rolling in after midnight
As backyard dogs howl guttural and wild,
Lonely for the pack.
You became a great teacher, who
Trusting in depths within my soul ,
Compelled me to return again to the abyss
But the wise women were there
Reminding me to learn from you
And to not be afraid.
Now closer to the mouth of the cavern,
Daylight dances haphazardly on the walls.
We linger in the darkness so we
Are not blinded as we emerge
And lose our way.
Your little hand rests in mine,
Our hearts and breathing fused.
My great spirit guide,
I know you will not leave me
For we are one now and
Our shared strength is unconquerable.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Suckitude Which Has Been My Blog
I really, truly, honestly thought I'd rock blogging after Michael was born, even if I simply defaulted to shameless kid pictures and poetry of other people. But this last six months has challenged me so, so much.
After showing signs of starting to sleep pretty well for a baby, something hit Michael with a vengeance at 5 months old and the kid became the worst sleeper I have ever encountered. I mean there's tired....and then there's up every 45 minutes all night long and sleeping no more than 20 minutes during the day tired. Couple that with one of the most intense periods yet of emotional withdrawal from my husband and you have one hell of a pretty crappy half a year. (And yeah, yeah, yeah---I know I'm not supposed to talk about him in public places like that. But if you don't like it, then you better just quit reading my blog now. Because, quite frankly I don't care any more. I am an imperfect woman, living an imperfect life....deal with it or move on)
It's truly hard to imagine how much that little sleep can stretch you as a human being, especially when you spend vast stretches of days at a time giving and giving touch to people, and almost never speaking to another adult. I have had a hard time maintaining even the most fundamental basics of my life, let alone something which requires much thought or creativity-like blogging or reading or scribbling a few lines of poetry. All things considered, I feel like I've held my own. We've all been fed moderately well, I have gotten everyone everywhere they've needed to be--only once forgetting to pick someone up (I know, I know--but you try to keep track of 7 people besides yourself and their ever changing schedules. Trust me it's a good ratio) , the kids have been learning stuff which even looks like real actual school work, I even spend time hanging out with each of the kiddos from time to time, I've been managing to exercise regularly, I've maintained friendships. But oh holy crap, do I feel empty and completely tapped out as a human being!
However, underneath this stretching, pulling, and crumbling I feel like there is some new creation starting to spring up. Like vegetation pushing up through volcanic waste. I don't know quite for sure who this she even is. Perhaps she's a weed. Perhaps she's the beginning of a giant cedar tree. But she is growing little roots and starting to break through the soil. I think she is going to turn out to be one hell of a woman. But as with all seedlings, right now needs lots of sunlight, shelter from heavy storms, a bit of nurturing and loving and just enough luck to make it tall enough to stand past the snowline.
So if you're reading this, can I ask you if you see me to just offer me a hug and say "I love you, Shannon." Unless you don't love me, then just a hug will do, even if you're not a hugger--will you just give me one anyway? I need it more than you can possibly imagine, especially if this newest Shannon, who I really think is going to be the best version yet is going to flourish.
Hope to blog more regularly now, but no promises whatsoever as to the content. Probably, like me, a little bit of everything.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Poetry Fridays
Alrighty---to break my bloglence here (we have been plagued by illness after illness and then moved into a period of great Michael fussiness which we seem to be slowly moving through)--let's go with a Poetry Friday.
It's Poetry Friday. Let's go into our weekend prepared "to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life". Every Friday post a poem- yours or someone else's.
Here's a little one I wrote today...which isn't really the poem swirling around in my brain, but maybe a sort of warm up exercise for what is coming....hopefully.
It's Poetry Friday. Let's go into our weekend prepared "to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life". Every Friday post a poem- yours or someone else's.
Here's a little one I wrote today...which isn't really the poem swirling around in my brain, but maybe a sort of warm up exercise for what is coming....hopefully.
Reading Year
Dickens for the winter,
wrapped in thickness and safety and warmth.
Spring for things never read,
full of discovery and newness and expansion.
Hemingway for the first hot days,
clear and quick and a drink in hand.
Summer for Tennessee Williams and Southern writers,
ambling and languid and brutal.
Scholarly works and realism fill Fall,
cold and inside and impersonal.
Monday, March 8, 2010
What Have We Done
Someone asked for advice about parenting as they added a new baby to their family and how larger, non-punitive families function. We're pretty dysfunctional, always kind of swirling along like Taz but this was my advice:
My advice is kinda worthless because it's kind of non-advice.
And going from 2-3 means you now have more kids than hands and that is a huge leap. Give yourself time to develop the skills you need to deal with that reality. Every new kid means a new shift in balancing everyone's needs and the immediacy with which we can meet needs---and that always involves grieving through to the resolution stage. And it's hard to grieve with a gaggle of children always needing you.
My advice is kinda worthless because it's kind of non-advice.
- Keep listening to yourself and trust your instincts.
- Forgive. A lot. Yourself and others.
- Begin again and again and again---as many times as it takes--and it's going to take a lifetime.
- Focus on endurance rather than patience.
- Laugh. A lot. At yourself and others. Seriously as moms we say and do and witness some of the most hysterical things if we can just learn to not take it all so seriously.
- Let go of expectations--they're just pride and are ruinous. Rather have an idea of the goal, but remain detached from results and allow the journey to take whatever course it will take.
- Be in the present--lingering in the past or the future will always make the present a mess and diminish your joy as well as your effectiveness.
- Don't forget that you are a person with needs, too. Include yourself in the plan for meeting everyone's needs. You don't honor yourself, your children, or God by neglecting your own personhood.
- Enlist help. Ask for help. Beg for help. Not asking for help is just pride and is ruinous.
And going from 2-3 means you now have more kids than hands and that is a huge leap. Give yourself time to develop the skills you need to deal with that reality. Every new kid means a new shift in balancing everyone's needs and the immediacy with which we can meet needs---and that always involves grieving through to the resolution stage. And it's hard to grieve with a gaggle of children always needing you.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Poetry Friday....with a twist.
Poetry Fridays where we say:
It's Poetry Friday. Let's go into our weekend prepared "to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life". Every Friday post a poem- yours or someone else's.
This Friday I'll post a poem I just wrote. I haven't written a poem in an awfully long time--but part of my Lent is to try to write something everyday and this is what I ended up with.
The blackness of the
fingered
trees
Their tortured grasp of
gnarled
hands
That reach moonward through
blue-black
night
Creak whispers into
changing
wind
As stillness groans just
out of
reach.
2.18.2010
It's Poetry Friday. Let's go into our weekend prepared "to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life". Every Friday post a poem- yours or someone else's.
This Friday I'll post a poem I just wrote. I haven't written a poem in an awfully long time--but part of my Lent is to try to write something everyday and this is what I ended up with.
The blackness of the
fingered
trees
Their tortured grasp of
gnarled
hands
That reach moonward through
blue-black
night
Creak whispers into
changing
wind
As stillness groans just
out of
reach.
2.18.2010
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