search
top
Currently Browsing: Family

Chosen and Unchosen Changes

I’ve noticed how I feel differently about my life as we pass the one year anniversary of the beginning of the pandemic of 2020. I feel a lot calmer. How did that happen? Because changes happened, both by choice and by time.

I found myself saying no to a string of requests for my time recently. While I made this choice to say no, it has been the time I have spent not doing much of what I used to do that showed me that this is the way I really want to live. I don’t want to rush around anymore feeling overwhelmed with obligations and appointments.

I realized today that, whereas I freaked out when all these people (my family), usually gone during the weekdays, were suddenly in my house in my way demanding stuff of me, I now don’t mind them as much. I have begun to say no more to them too. I can create boundaries enough to have time to myself and sometimes they even leave! Twice last week I noticed we were all in the same room at the same time by choice!

And I finally got so sick of being sick of my body that I have now returned to the YMCA three times a week for exercise classes. I’ve missed the camaraderie in those classes. This feels like normal again. And I’d say we’ve all earned a little normal back.

Interested in reading my future thoughts on Creative Soul Living?

Enter your name into the subscription box in the sidebar to the right and subscribe to my bi-weekly posts via your emailbox.

Find me on Instagram to view my daily pictures,

friend me or like my page on Facebook.

I love community, soulful candid conversation, and being in touch.

And as always, thank you for your visit.

What Do You Do All Day Mommy?

She asked me this question when we were waiting in the car rider drop-off line at school. What do I do all day? I told her that I was going to exercise and that when I get home I have to do household chores and writing. And then come back and pick her up at 2:30. That’s 5 ½ hours to do as much as I can. She said that sounded like a lot, bless her heart.

Because my work does not compensate me, it may seem less worthy than someone earning a paycheck in a “real” job. But what I can tell you is that you couldn’t pay me enough for the work I do. The abuse I take from that same near 8 year-old exhausts me. Hauling laundry, cat litter, and recycling up and down stairs isn’t very glamorous. I went into uncompensated waste management.

It saddens me that we stay at home Moms are still looking at ourselves as “less than”people. As if what we do is a default job because we weren’t good enough for anything else. But this is a very patriarchal view because this job is the backbone of every country. I’d say men pee their pants if they experienced the distress we are under to which they often add to with their own needs. Unless these same men didn’t want or help to create those children, we’re in it 50/50 for keeping them safe and cared for. Money earning isn’t the most important job.

It saddens me even more that women would be so quick to disregard themselves and not ask for the respect and honor for this job of keeping the seams of the country stitched together. The future of our country is the toddler in diapers and the angry teen. Refusing to acknowledge that families need special care and love dooms our next generation to their entitled anger for emotional abandonment. I will fight with and for my children by showing up for them until they can fly by themselves. And I’ll ask for their respect in return.

Interested in reading my future ponderings on Creative Soul Living? Subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my weekly posts via your emailbox.

Find me on Instagram to see my daily pictures,

friend me or like my page on Facebook.

Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too.

I am a community kinda person and am always practicing Intentional Intouchness.

I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

How Do We Begin to Consider Ourselves Heroes ?

I was doing the dishes this morning and it struck me that any woman that gives herself credit for her thoughts and talents is my hero. I have struggled for so long with not only figuring out what I think, but then owning those thoughts out loud. The weight of knowing yourself in and of itself, seems so heavy.

Perfectionism is just another form of the fear of being seen. My daughter is currently experiencing this with math. She’s exclaiming her lack of competency and breaks down in tears if she gets things wrong. I think, where is this coming from? And I knew as I said it, it must come from me somehow. I know my Mom has a wicked case of this too.How Do We Begin to Consider Ourselves Heroes ? on Shalavee.com

And if it doesn’t come from me, it seeps insipidly in from society somehow. All those outdated devaluing women messages are still swirling around. No matter how many after school specials they’ve made, we are valued for our bodies not our aspirations and brains. Girls are worthless. Ha!

Except from where I stand, we’re worth more to the world than gold because we are running the underpinnings of life itself. We’ve been birthing people, feeding people, and keeping people occupied and educated for the past year. We’ve been disregarding ourselves for longer than we remember.  Many of us have had to be the breadwinners as well as the bakers. And deal with our family’s anxieties as well as our own. We take it like men? I don’t think any man can take it like this.

I’d like to see women stand and demand even more equal consideration for this unrecognized and uncompensated unseen work. Especially to their own families who take them for granted worse than anyone. I’m talking grassroots, “I’ve had enough of this shite” Sally Fields as Norma Rae kinda stuff. Who’s with me?

Interested in reading my future ponderings on Creative Soul Living? Subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my weekly posts via your emailbox.

Find me on Instagram to see my daily pictures,

friend me or like my page on Facebook.

Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too.

I am a community kinda person and am always practicing Intentional Intouchness.

I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Moments of Profundity

I tried to sit with my thoughts today. To write. To extract some sort of profound truth from my day. And my brain said “sploop”.

Moments of profundity sometimes won’t show up on demand betwixt days and days of 7 year old daughter harassment and 15 year old son idiocy. So be it.

It may be enough that I breath today. And that’s OK.

Happy Monday and I wish you profound moments in the coming week. I find life is a little more fun with profundity.

Interested in reading my future ponderings on Creative Soul Living?Subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my weekly posts via your emailbox.

Find me on Instagram to see my daily pictures,

friend me or like my page on Facebook.

Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too.

I am a community kinda person and am always practicing Intentional Intouchness.

I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

Our Parents and Ourselves

Anne Lamott said “Write as if your parents are dead.” In an attempt to save people from your truth, you censor yourself from writing about your pain. This pain has made you you and may have been caused by them. And this mutes your most important story. And now Their Shames have become yours. You were made complicit to their crimes against themselves and to you. If you tell, you’ll be bad. Ungrateful. Naughty.

She added, this, “Remember that you own what happened to you. If your childhood was less than ideal, you may have been raised thinking that if you told the truth about what really went on in your family, a long bony white finger would emerge from a cloud and point to you, while a chilling voice thundered, “We *told* you not to tell.” But that was then. Just put down on paper everything you can remember now about your parents and siblings and relatives and neighbors, and we will deal with libel later on.”

I say, let them sue me. I’ve got nothing left to lose. I’m not that close to my parents. Is my debt payed off. Or do I have to keep the shame silence to their grave and then tell all.

I hardly ever speak about my family. Once when I did, I got calls from both of them to let me know they did not appreciate being spoken of. Even if what I said was true, that’s not what we do. And I got another call out from my Aunt blasting me for my lack of gratitude. I’ve been given so much, that should buy my devotion and silence.

I feel my heart ache when I read stories about people who are close to their parents. Who grieve the loss of their parent as a piece of themselves leaving the earth. I feel for and admire them for their grief. Perhaps I should say envy them.Our Parents and Ourselves on Shalavee.com

Maybe Anne Lamott had self-involved parents too.  I have yet to delve into her works as much as I might like. Got busy birthing a baby right around the time when women start their introspective reading journeys in earnest. 

I am trying my hardest to make sure that my daughter and son both know I love and support them, that what they seek in the world is both out there and inside them. I am just a cheerleader. It’s about them not me. Khalil Gibran’s poem ‘Children’ says it all:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you, they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite.
And He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hands be for happiness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
So He loves the bow that is stable.

Do your best and let go of the rest. If you’re not helping, you’re hurting. And do unto others…

Interested in reading my future ponderings on Creative Soul Living?Subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my weekly posts via your emailbox.

Find me on Instagram to see my daily pictures,

friend me or like my page on Facebook.

Or come find me on Twitter or Pinterest too.

I am a community kinda person and am always practicing Intentional Intouchness.

I live for conversations.

And, as always, Thanks to you for your visit.

« Previous Entries

top