Give up giving yourself up

Parenting is a ritualistic exercise in extreme sacrifice. We awake earlier than we want, watch television programs we don’t want to, make play-dates we could care less about, plan parties, go to parties, make nice with another parent because our kid likes their kid, etc, etc, etc, etc. It goes on forever.

But that’s what parenting is, right? Sacrifice?

Yes.

And yet a resounding no.

Last night, I asked on Twitter if Motherhood should trump Womanhood once it entered the mix. What ensued was an extremely interesting conversation. Answers varied from “If that’s what the woman wants” to “No, it shouldn’t” to “I don’t understand, isn’t Motherhood a facet of Womanhood?” It is, once it enters the mix. But what fascinates me is the way we, as women, and as society, measure a woman’s worth based on her desire to conceive or parent. Someone even pointed out a pet peeve with articles which identify someone as a Grandmother, Mother, etc., even when it’s not relevant.

In the infancy years when our children depend fully upon us, Mother is our defining role. However, we should still make time for ourselves as women as well. We are still us, we have merely added another facet to our skill set. Some of us are woman first, mother second. Some may be Mother and then Woman. That’s okay. It varies from woman to woman and is based on personal experience as well. Go with what works for you and your family.

For those who are woman first, mother second, we know we need to be valued as a woman. But no one will value us as woman if we fail to treat ourselves as woman first. But what is woman once she is a Mother? She is you, as you were before children, with the added responsibility of child-rearing. Woman is beautiful, exhilarating, compassionate, powerful, strong, complex, amazing, and full of heart. She is life, and yet at the same time, she can get so lost in roles demanded by society, she may be her own death. Swallowed whole by Mother, Wife, Employee, Caregiver, Daughter, Sister, Cousin, etc, she finds herself carried away by the powerful current of Life, not realizing until too late she is in dangerous waters.

Today I tweeted, with the intent of being humorous, “For Lent, I’m giving up giving up things.” I also posted it as my Facebook status. The responses surprised me. One of my friends on Facebook included a link to a post written by a friend of hers last year –On Eating Chocolate for Lent– which got me thinking –should we be giving up anything for Lent at all– especially when we already give up so much of ourselves as Mothers? If we continue to sacrifice ourselves at the rate we’re going, we will have nothing left to give our children or loved ones once we finish –if we finish– before we pass out, an exhausted heap in the kitchen floor.

Want to give up something for Lent? Give up throwing yourself under the bus for everyone around you. Give up saying yes to every responsibility you are asked to take on by friends, family, work, etc. Give up judging yourself for not keeping up with the Joneses. Stick with the bare necessities. Give yourself the gift of time to yourself, the gift of time with your children instead of racing around like crazy to keep family, friends, and society happy and smiling. Give yourself happy. Give yourself joy. Give yourself laughter.

Give up giving yourself up for 40 days. Be kind to you. You are worth it.

 

Whatever Wednesday: Just One Year

This time last year I was married.

I was 281 pounds.

Deep down, I was miserable.

I knew my life had to change.

We got a Wii.

I started exercising.

I started hiking.

I’ve lost over 60 pounds.

In May, I left my marriage.

By August, our divorce was final.

 

I’ve traveled quite a bit since May, all in the US and all in the Eastern coast/South.

I’ve met some awesome people from Twitter & the blogosphere in person. I’ve reconnected with old friends. I’ve made new friends.

I’ve seen places I never thought I’d see in person. I’ve done things I never imagined myself doing.

 

I visited the Lorton Workhouse just outside of D.C., where Alice Paul and other suffragists were sentenced to serve time after protesting outside the White House.

I spent some time in the Quantico National Cemetery. God Bless our military, especially the fallen Marines and their mourning families. Thank you for your sacrifice.

I hung out in Norfolk, VA at the beach after Hurricane Irene stumbled through and destroyed a few things.

I’ve driven through tornado damage and wept.

I live tweeted the Republican Debate from Wofford College in Spartanburg, SC.

I hiked (a lot) in Nashville, TN. Even got lost and had to be rescued by my brother.

I hiked in Virginia too. Not as much as in Nashville, but I went and did it by myself and was okay with not finishing. Know your limits, people.

Speaking of going by yourself, I attended the annual lighting of the Christmas Tree in Roanoke, VA by myself. Went to the Taubman Art Museum that night too.

I survived 15 minutes of Go-Karting at Virginia International Raceway without wrecking or going off track.

I ate pizza in New Jersey for the first time in over 20 years. I cried.

I sat in the Village Vanguard in NYC, drank wine, and listened to amazing jazz with a hilarious new friend last week. In a dress smaller than any dress I’ve worn since the mid 90′s.

I visited Ground Zero and was filled with awe and peace as I walked around the memorial pools, staring at the names of all the Americans lost on 9/11/2001.

I ate lunch at Veselka’s (you know, where Norah eats in the middle of the night in Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist).

I realized the Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Plaza is MUCH smaller in real life. And how crowded it is there in December. (Related – I will NEVER complain about crowds again.)

I’ve discovered I love traveling by train and absolutely must do this more often.

 

But more importantly, I found something these past few months.

I found confidence. I found my passion for life hadn’t completely disappeared, it just went on vacation.

I smiled until it hurt. I smiled because I was smiling until it hurt.

I laughed. I cried. Sometimes I laughed until I cried. Sometimes I just cried. A lot.

More than anything though?

I dove into the depths of the waters well beyond my comfort zone without hesitation.

I’m still here.

I can do anything.

I believe in ME.

If 2011 taught me all of this, I cannot WAIT to see what 2012 has in store for me.

On Accepting Myself

Do you accept yourself, as you are?” my therapist asked, as she sat across from me, staring at me, awaiting an answer.

My lips tingled, the feel spread to my nose and upward. I thought long and hard, my lips twitching every so often as I readied an appropriate answer. Alas, the only appropriate answer suprised even me. I shook and stuttered, my throat nearly closing with fear as it escaped my vocal cords and traveled forever before escaping my lips.

No.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know, dammit. Because so much has changed? Because I don’t know who I am anymore?”

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know.”

I don’t know.

It’s a frightening thing to realize you don’t know who you are anymore. To realize you lost yourself somewhere along the way. In your head, you retrace all your steps. All your missteps. Your judgments. Your choices. You wonder where you lost your sense of self. Why you lost your sense of self. Did you sacrifice it for a worthy cause? Did a thief sneak in and steal it? Did you stop caring? What the hell happened to you? When did you give into the vortex and let life sweep away your essence? How do you get it back?

Slowly. Deliberately. Passionately.

Once you’ve realized you’ve lost yourself, there’s room for re-invention. For rediscovering your essence and purpose. Sure, what’s gone needs to be mourned. But the possibilities for what can be are limitless and only bound to confines created by you. There’s no box. No pre-determined fate into which you must mold yourself. There’s only the infinite possibility of what you will become. Freedom awaits you. All you have to do is reach out and grab it, hold on, and enjoy the ride.