These words were asked to my husband the other day and it was surprising... actually annoying af, how much this caused me to break into a thousand pieces.
Annoying, mostly, because I actually thought I believed something different.
You ever do that?
Like, you think you think one thing… but then strip it down, you realize your core belief about it is something else entirely.
Or maybe it's just one thing to agree. And another thing else to actually believe it.
Kinda like when you say something super compassionate, empathic and kind to a friend about their situation or their experience. Then flip the coin and realize you would never ever never grant yourself the same understanding or respect.
How many times have you cheered on your fellow SAHM’s and have yelled strong support from the rooftops? “You’re amazing!” “You’re doing so much!” “Your worth is beyond measure!”
I mean, I’ve yelled this. Well, I mean not yelled, but definitely have shared this love with other mommies in the stay-at-home trenches. I don't know about your house, but man, it's like Lord of the Flies over here.
When this was stated to my husband however, (in a negative light, sure), I quickly succumbed to all the shame, doubt, and feelings of shit self-worth.
The funny thing is it honestly did surprise me a bit. I thought I was better than that. You know, better than to let someone else completely strip me of my value with one simple sentence.
And I hate it. I really fucking hate it.
The older we get, ideally the more confident, sure and well, free, we become.
We know who we are at this point in our lives. We know what we want, who we want to be around, and what we want to shed that either doesn’t serve or straight up serves something shitty.
Here’s the thing. In many ways, the past 16+ months have been some of the most challenging and isolating of my life. Mostly because it's torn down who I thought I was and has stripped me of that confidence I once held as a mother.
The level of failure I’ve felt has rocked me. And while logically, this is crap I realize, emotionally the deep scars of this journey so far seem to be permanent. I could be beaten in the face over and over again with words to the contrary and it wouldn’t matter. It doesn’t seem to penetrate my soul the way I know it should.
Now having this babe, with various special needs, I find myself completely immersed in providing for her. Which, amazingly, (said with sarcasm), has now extended to the latest challenge of her completely passing out when upset, scared or in pain.
Long story short, she has begun demonstrating cyanotic breath holding episodes where she stops breathing to the point of unconsciousness.
Absolutely traumatizing to witness? Check. Medically a concern? Thankfully, nope.
No one ever said she was boring.
And so here I stand. Caring for this incredible and incredibly challenging baby. With total conviction that there is no place I would rather be.
I just wish it didn’t sometimes make me still feel lesser than.
Like, I just wish sometimes I felt more full.
Full of confidence, maybe.
Full of value…belief and trust.
And perhaps, maybe just more full of recognition that this is simply our season. Mine and hers. Together.
So my latest goal? To let this recognition settle down deep in my core. In my damn soul.
The place where I’m not merely echoing the sentiment with hollow words.
Where I can actually believe the things I say both to others and perhaps mostly importantly, to myself.