Life

Life is Good

Posted on by noemikjames / 24 Comments

I realize that I don’t come here much to wax philosophical about things going well. In the past, on my other blog, that led people to believe I was a negative nelly who dwelt only on the bad. But that is not the case. There is so much in my life that I celebrate each day. Here are just a few things that I’ve been appreciating lately.

– My son is at a very sweet age. He hasn’t started tantruming on the reg yet but he’s understanding more and more and can even say some words and a phrase or two. His first complete sentence was, “I want that,” which he’s found to be very versatile and has morphed it into, “I want bar,” (curse you KidZ bars you have taken my daughter hostage and now my son is following suit!) “I want ball,” and just yesterday, “I want to go park.” When I ask him to give me “a smooch” he comes up a presses his lips against my cheek oh so gently. I swoon with delight every time. And while he doesn’t want me to sing to him before bed anymore, there are times when he hugs me and it’s like his whole body is wrapping around mine. When he’s having trouble sleeping he loves to lie on my stomach while I rub his back and he brushes his fingers up and down my arm. He’s a big boy (35 inches and 25 pounds!) and already it’s hard to treat him like the 18 month old he is, so I’m savoring these last months before he transforms into a two year old. He is such a sweet boy. I absolutely adore him.

– Things with my husband are better. They aren’t great by any means, but they are okay-to-good more than they are not-okay-to-bad. I am working through two marriage books and trying to focus on the destructive habits I have fallen into instead of dwelling on the negativity I feel he brings to our relationship. It’s empowering to take responsibility for what I can change and I already see some improvements. I’m also trying not to project into the future; I stop myself whenever I wonder how we’ll affect real change without his deliberate involvement. Maybe the changes I make will be so effective that he changes without my prodding? If not, we’ll figure it out when we get there.

– My daughter and I are going to St. Louis (where all my extended family lives) for a wedding this weekend. I’m excited to see my cousins and to get away for a few days. I’m already dreading being away from my sweet boy for so long; it think it will be really hard on him for both me and his sister to be away.

– We also have a weekend at a cabin with friends planned for Memorial Day weekend. Staying at a cabin with another family has been on my “once I have kids bucket list” and I’m stoked to finally make it happen with my good friends’ family. His kids are very close in age to ours and they are similarly laid back, with reasonable (read: low) expectations, so I think it should be a fun weekend.

– We got an AMAZING tax refund and I’m looking forward to putting some real money in our kids’ college accounts and having a small emergency fund in the bank, just in case. (More on this, and my evolving budget, soon.)

-Things continue to go well on the friend front. I feel comfortable with the amount I’m seeing people and my family seems better able to manage my now less-frequent absences. I hope to keep working toward meaningful friendships with these women, even though it requires an insane amount of time and work to do so.

-My good friend is expecting her first child in the next couple weeks and I’m so excited for her. This will be my first good college girl friend to have a baby. I hope her daughter arrives safe and sound. I can’t wait to meet her.

-I am reading All the Light We Cannot See for book club and it’s incredible. Truly a breathtakingly beautiful book. I had forgotten that writing can be art–this book has reminded me.

-After realizing that one of the reasons I wanted to leave my job was boredom, I started implementing some new ideas and assigning some new projects in my classes. It has definitely made work more interesting and I’m look forward to focusing on entirely revamping my ELD class next year. I’m very exciting to be trying something new and am proud of myself for taking the initiative to change things up.

– That said, only seven more weeks until summer, but who’s counting, right? 😉

What positive things have you been appreciating lately?

Uncategorized

The Reference

Posted on by noemikjames / 3 Comments

I realized after I asked if anyone knew what book that title was from, that most likely nobody would as I don’t think the book is very well known. I absolutely love it because the friendship between the two characters is portrayed brilliantly. I adore them each separately, and together they are perfection.

“Without Question” is the title of the third chapter of the book Bink and Gollie: Two For One by Kate DiCamillo and Alison McGhee, illustrated by Tony Fucile. Hopefully the following pages will help you understand why I’m so enamored of this friendship.

 

Without Question 2

 

Without Question 3Without Question 4

There are three Bink and Gollie books and each one is wonderful. I highly recommend checking them out.

Health & Well Being/Identity

Denied

Posted on by noemikjames / 7 Comments

My petition to the life insurance company was denied.

“The combination of depression and ADD/ADHD precludes [me] from being eligible.”

I don’t think I really believed it would work, but it still hit like a sledge hammer to the chest. I couldn’t get off the phone with the representative fast enough.

Those diagnoses. Depression. ADD. They are hard to pin down. I’ve always grappled with the appropriate incorporation. How do they define me? Sometimes their presence is an unbearable weight, stifling who I feel I’m meant to be. Sometimes they are a fog I walk through, a mist that swirls around the spaces where I brush it away, making it impossible to see. Other times they are a shadow cast behind me as I walk purposefully into the light, only visible when I glance back.

I’ve spent so long wondering how relevant they are to my own self-identity, and yet I’ve never formally denied them. Why then has it been so shocking to witness someone else, a nameless, power-wielding entity, conjure them into undeniable existence. It’s as if this one action, this single determination has forced them to materialize as solid evidence that I am forced to acknowledge. Certain. Indisputable. Obvious.

It’s so obvious to them.

Why isn’t it obvious to me?

These parts of me that I have fought for so long. That I have cursed at and cowered from and fought against and succumbed to and triumphed over. I have always suspected they were there, an inextricable part of me. So why does someone else recognizing them for the liability they are cut me so deep? Why do I feel so betrayed by myself?

Is there a part of me that has been denying them for all these years?

Did I need someone else to deny my denial so I could see them for what they are?

And what are they, really? Notes in my medical history. Coded authorizations for treatment and prescriptions. Abbreviations. Explanations. Generalized depression. Bi-Polar II. Anxiety. Attention Deficit Disorder. Referrals. Group therapy. Doses. Refills. Side effects. Co pays. Phone consultations. Thyroid tests. Milligrams. Take once a day with food.

May cause dizziness.

We are an under-diagnosed but over-medicated generation. Do I really suffer from these things? Or do I just want a quick fix to make myself feel better? Would I still “need” them if I ate all organic, raw foods and got eight hours of sleep and meditated two hours each day? Am I doing this to myself? Am I imagining it?

And even if they are “real”–whatever that means–should I have sucked it up and trudged forward without asking for help so that they wouldn’t have grounds now to penalize me?

They have always been there. Threaded through me. Stamped on the pages of my medical history. Were they they before the professionals identified them? Or did they only crash the party after they were formally invited? Before I existed in the uncertainty. Now they seem real, even if they may have once been imagined.

Now there are consequences. Now they are being claimed for me.

It’s strange how much it hurts. I guess I didn’t realize I wasn’t ready to claim them for myself.

Infertility/Life

Without Question*

Posted on by noemikjames / 6 Comments

On Saturday I walked with my son up the main street of our neighborhood to run some errands. I’ve walked down these particular blocks hundreds of times and while some of the store fronts have changed in the three years since we moved here, most are very familiar.

On this particular day I noticed a sign I had not seen before, touting a tarot card and palm reader’s expertise. Huh, I thought, Has that always been there? As I was slowing down to inspect the sign’s pedigree, I realized the proprietor was in front of her door, handing out leaflets. I found myself gently taking one, and smiling as I walked away.

I have never had my fortune told, not via tea leaves or tarot cards or the indecipherable map of creases on my hand.

It’s not that I’m not interested, or wouldn’t know where to go. There is a gaudy sign declaring a fortune teller’s presence on the way to my in-laws house that I’ve always been drawn to, but have never committed to stepping inside.

I’ve been passing that sign for almost ten years now and always I glance at it and wonder. In the time when we were trying for our first child, and then our second, my heart would race when it came into view. The mere possibility that someone inside might have a response for all my unanswerable questions was more than my aching heart could bear.

I thought about getting my fortune read a lot during those uncertain years. In the end it wasn’t the fear of wasting my time and money that kept me away, but the terror that she’d tell me exactly what I was most afraid to hear.

Because, while the uncertainty was unbearable (and I often lamented that the wait would go by in the blink of an eye if I knew for certain that it would someday be over), the suggestion that any other future might lay in wait would have destroyed me.

This Saturday, as I walked away from the woman on the street, the hint of a smile still smoothing the corners of my mouth, I realized I no longer want my future told. At this point I have everything I want, the only thing she can tell me is when it might be taken away.

Have you ever had your fortune told?

*The title is from one of my favorite children’s book. Can anyone name it?

{Reference given here.}

Identity/Life/Parenting & Family

Outlines in the Landscape

Posted on by noemikjames / 4 Comments

This weekend was pretty nice. We didn’t end up having much going on which was exactly what we needed after being away last weekend. I enjoyed some one-on-one time with both kids, which I really appreciate because those moments when my attention isn’t divided are the rare instances in which I really feel like I get to connect with either of them in a meaningful way.

Yesterday I took the kids to the Academy of Science while my husband cleaned the house so his friend who was stopping by wouldn’t think we live like savages. It was a chaotic trip, as one-parent/two-kid outings generally are, but I was happy to be out of the house. I go crazy when I’m stuck at home all day.

Parking was crazy and we ended up finding a spot a good 15 minutes away from our destination. Walking back with my son on my back and my daughter in the stroller (she is way too big for the stroller) was exhausting and I was starving and just wanted to get home. It took forever to get both kids strapped into their seats and all the jackets, food containers, water cups, diaper accoutrements and extra clothes (some soiled, some still clean) out from under the stroller and by the time I was in the driver’s seat I just wanted to shut my eyes for at least 15 full, uninterrupted minutes.

And yet, when I put on the tired mix of kids’ music we’ve listened to literally hundreds of times, I was struck by a feeling of contentment so deep, it gave me chills. I was suddenly reminded of the sheer terror I felt, after our ectopic, that I might never have a child or be a mother, and I felt a rush of gratitude for the two beings in my back seat so profound that my hands shook for a few minutes.

I used to have that feeling all the time in the year after my daughter was born, and in the months after my son joined the family, but I haven’t felt it since he became mobile and my world started to implode in slow motion. It was a relief to touch that deep well, to know that I could still access the enormity of my past sorrow despite the deep chasm time has carved between that terrified woman of so many years ago and her ambivalent, present day counterpart.

All that to say, there are good days. Some of them are even great. There are moments when my life with two kids unfolds like a faded photograph from so many years ago and I recognize the outlines of my former dreams in the landscape of my future.

It’s only the colors that don’t quite match up, and I think I have more power over the filter than I let myself believe.

Minimalism

Minimalism, revisited

Posted on by noemikjames / 22 Comments

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASo. Minimalism.

It’s been many months since I embraced minimalism and attempted to make it a part of my life. Immediately I saw the benefits of owning less stuff and was relieved to see that if I parred down my belongings I could actually keep my house in order. For the first time in my life, house keeping seemed somewhat manageable. This is a HUGE accomplishment and if this were the only benefit it would be enough for me to embrace minimalism forever.

It’s not the only benefit of course. Minimalism helps me stay within my budget, which is another thing I’ve been failing to do for pretty much my entire adult life. For one overarching philosophy (we are happier with less stuff) to improve, or even resolve, two of my biggest challenges is a pretty extraordinary thing.

Clearly, I NEED to embrace minimalism.

So why is it so fucking difficult for me?!

I read so many stories of people who decide minimalism is the thing for them. They get rid of their stuff. They realize they don’t need any more stuff. They are exceedingly happy. They never look back.

They don’t seem to have relapses or struggle with the new arrangements or restrictions. They are born again, they have seen the light and will be forever bathed in it. Then they go out into the world and preach.

That has not been my experience.

Even though I can see the very real, very concrete benefits of embracing minimalism, even though I absolutely agree with the philosophy and recognize why it is not a only superior, but necessary, way to live if we want to achieve sustainability as a species, even though I agree with it fundamentally, I still find myself struggling. I still want a new purse and that cute pair of shoes my friend was wearing last week. I’m still pining after a new pair of jeans because I just don’t love the way the ones I have fit (that whole keeping only what inspires joy exercise has actually made me want to get more clothes–getting rid of the ones I have that I don’t love of course–which I don’t think was the point). I still want to get my kids new toys, even though I’m constantly giving away the ones we no longer play with.

I guess I thought it would be easier. I thought I’d embrace this ideal and all my previous wants and desires would melt away. I expected something would click and this new mindset would override a lifetime of messages (subliminal and overt) asserting that acquiring more makes us happier. I assumed it wouldn’t be so much work, that it wouldn’t require constant admonitions, that it would just be the way I was.

But I am the way I used to be. And it’s hard work to override a lifetime of one message with its complete opposite. I’m constantly reminding myself of my new ideals. I’m continually assuring myself of how good it feels to have less, and how buying things doesn’t actually make me feel better. The habit of wanting to solve problems with more things is so deeply engrained, that I find myself constantly talking myself out of wanting something.

It’s exhausting. And I’m disappointed in myself. I’m disappointed in my materialism and how easy it is for me to fall back into my old, destructive patterns. I want to be the person who doesn’t care if she has new shoes or a new pair of jeans. I want to be the person who cares about the things in life that really matter.

Some of the things are small, like still pining after a new purse even though the one I have now works fine. Every once in a while the desire bubbles up and I do a little online “window shopping” and realize there is nothing that I love so I shelve the whole thing for another month, but the fact that I keep coming back to it makes me feel icky. Who cares about a stupid purse? Why can’t I just be happy with the one I have?

Other things are bigger. We rent an in-law unit under our kitchen so we can afford our mortgage. The “plan” has always been that in five or so years, when we’re done paying for childcare, we’d build inside stairs connecting the in-law unit to the rest of the house and make it our “master suite.” We currently sleep in what is supposed to be the living room of our house, with only a Japanese screen between our bedroom and what is supposed to be the dining room (but what we use as a living room). Right now the layout works fine for us, but when our kids are older and want to watch TV when we want to sleep, or when we find it hard accommodate four people’s needs with only one bathroom, we’ll want the space, or so we assumed.

But then we watch documentaries about tiny houses and see the spaces people live in and I wonder why we I’ve let myself be convinced that we need more space when 1200 square feet is way more than 99% of families around the world inhabit (and most of them are bigger than ours) . We clearly have enough, we clearly can make it work, and we are resourceful enough as a family to manage with only one bathroom even when our kids are older. If we kept renting our in-law unit we could save that extra money for our kids’ college funds, and maybe even travel some day. Aren’t those things so much more important? Why do I feel such a devastating loss when I think about giving up the dream of moving into that space?

Sometimes I get the feeling that really, deep inside, I want to be a fundamentally different person. I wish I just saw the world differently, that I didn’t spend so many weeks and months of my life slipping into and crawling out of depression, that I saw the world in a more positive light, that I was more grateful, that I complained less. I wish I were kinder and more giving, less selfish and less self-serving. I meet people who seem to live life in all the ways I wish I did, and they seem to do so effortlessly. I always wonder if were they born that way, or if they have to work at it.

It feels like I have to work at everything that matters to me in my life. Nothing comes naturally to me except depression and disorganization and overspending and negativity and despair. I have such an amazing life and yet I spend all the time trying to get myself to see how amazing it is. And when some incredible way of living becomes known to me, and I’m 100% sure it’s the way I want, and NEED, to live myself, I can’t even embrace it. It’s hard not to feel frustrated with myself sometimes.

When I write these posts people tell me I need to be kinder to myself. And while I’m sure that’s true, there is something more here that I need to figure out. I can’t just shrug these feelings away telling myself to be kinder and more forgiving. I feel like something needs to change inside me, but I don’t think that kind of change is possible, and I’m not sure where that leaves me.

Have you been able to embrace fundamental changes in your life? How did it happen? 

Marriage/Parenting & Family

More thoughts on Parenting (and some on Marriage)

Posted on by noemikjames / 21 Comments

I wanted to write a follow up to those last two posts for Friday, but I’m glad it didn’t happen. My perspective has changed a little since the weekend and now I appreciate the time and space these last days have given me.

As I expected, publishing those posts was cathartic. While I didn’t feel like I learned much from writing them–there was no revelatory moment as I processed those feelings, in fact I don’t feel like I processed them so much as vomited them, but it was all I was able to manage, so I’ll have to take it–the comments were so eye-opening and validating and interesting, I feel like I can look at this topic with a new perspective and that is something I value more than words can say.

I was thinking a lot about my posts and everyone’s responses over the weekend, as my family and I spent two days at a beach house with my parents. My husband came, which is a rare occurrence, and I’m so glad I had those two posts, and their comments in the back of my mind as we meandered through the weekend.

It ended up being a really nice two days. The kids were pretty manageable, all things considered. We got decent sleep, it wasn’t torture keeping my son safe (and the house undamaged) despite the fact that it wasn’t child-proofed. The weather was beautiful and we didn’t have any grand expectation. The kids played at the beach a lot, shivering with their feet in the waves, then warming up in the dry sand. My parents provided just enough support to allow us to make small, but important, strategic moves throughout the day, but didn’t get in the way of our parenting. The close proximity to the beach meant our son’s nap schedule could be accommodated for without trapping our daughter in the house. We each had time with the kids one-on-one and also hung out as a family.

Actually, it was a pretty perfect weekend. It was exactly what I was lamenting we don’t do in my last two posts. It was exactly what I envisioned having a family would be like.

Sure there were meltdowns. Sure my daughter was being difficult a lot of the time. Sure my son required constant supervision (and still managed to give himself a few shiners). Sure my husband and I hardly got to exchange two not-parenting related words with each other. Sure it was exhausting. But it was also fun, and I made some really wonderful memories with both my kids, and I felt closer to my family for having braved the weekend away.

It was in coming home from that weekend, awash in the salt and sand and sun of a successful trip, that I realized what has really been bothering me about parenting. It’s not so much that I think it’s hard and that I don’t feel like anyone talks about that. It’s that I disappointed, heartbroken really, that it doesn’t resemble my expectations in the slightest.

When I wrote before that my greatest aspiration in life was to parent, I thought I was explaining that my current ambivalence toward parenting was not rooted in some previous ambivalence about becoming a parent. But what I was actually doing was explaining why I am so deeply disappointed by my reality of raising two kids. This was supposed to be my life, and it was supposed to look and feel… well… positive. But it doesn’t. And I think there is a part of me that is mourning the life I thought I’d have. The life I fought so hard for. The life that I thought I couldn’t live without.

Part of the disconnect, for me, is rooted in the idealized version of parenting we, as a culture, espouse. But ultimately, my disillusions about parenting are wrapped up in my disillusions about my marriage.

Ultimately, the vast majority of this is actually about my relationship with my husband.

It’s not that I hate parenting, it’s that I hate how we handle parenting together. It’s not that I’m overwhelmed managing my children, it’s that I’m overwhelmed managing my children without the support of my husband.

It’s that most of the time, I feel like I have to manage him.

I’ve started reading a book about marriage. I’ve read parts of it before, but never finished it. I REALLY want to finish it this time. I want to do the exercises. I want to do the work so that we can get to a better place. I think, if we came to some kind of understanding, all of this would be so, so much better. And I think we can arrive at that better place.

At least, I’m making myself believe it right now.

Because if I don’t believe it, what is the point?

Just the first fifty pages of this book have been really eye opening. I have been reminded of all the negativity I bring to our marriage, all the things I’m doing wrong, and there are a lot of them. A LOT. I have been kind of mortified by how much antagonism I’ve bringing to our interactions. I really need to change the way I do things.

I’ve talked to my husband about it. I know it’s not his thing to read a book or see a professional (I think both would be IMMENSELY helpful for him, but I’m trying hard to accept what he is and isn’t willing to do), but he has said he’s willing to do some exercises with me on Friday evenings when we have a little time. I’m letting myself believe that things will get better between us and that I can be happy with where we end up, even if my husband never has the attitude toward raising kids I’d hoped he would have.

I think, if we get to a better place, the parenting challenges will seem a lot more manageable. There will still be issues that I have to accept to enjoy the arduous task of raising small children, but I think I can get there. And even if I never truly enjoy it, I hope I can get to a place where I feel some contentment at the end of the day.

Does your marriage mitigate or exacerbate the challenges of your daily life?

Uncategorized

Not So Positive (on) Parenting, Part 2

Posted on by noemikjames / 39 Comments

{Thank you ALL SO MUCH for your comments yesterday. They made me feel so much less alone. I really, really appreciated them.

I wrote this at the same time as yesterday’s post but I broke them up because of length, so this post doesn’t really address from yesterday’s comments. I do hope to write a final post kind of wrapping up ALL. THE. THINGS about this complicated topic for Friday. We’ll see if that actually happens.}

…continued from yesterday’s post.

My daughter remains a very intense little girl. In two months she’ll be five and just this past weekend I had to hold her like a straightjacket to keep her from hitting, kicking and scratching me. She still managed to bite me hard on the hand. She almost broke the skin. She’s 45 inches tall and weighs 42lbs. She is a big girl to keep safe from herself in the midst of that kind of tantrum. We try really hard to accommodate her needs, giving her plenty of time at home and not over-scheduling her. We watch her for signs that she’s overwhelmed and we go home, even if it’s the middle of the party or a trip out. Her mood absolutely determines everyone else’s experience, and it can be impossible to know what will set her off. While she can be the most amazing person to spend time with, she is absolutely exhausting.

When my son was born we called him Mellow Man. He was content to be anywhere or do anything. The minute he started moving that all changed. Now he needs constant supervision. He is constantly putting himself in harm’s way. My daughter never opened cabinets or investigated outlets. That’s all my son does and he does it constantly. When he is awake there needs to be an adult with him every single second. Where my daughter is emotionally exhausting, my son is physically exhausting (and don’t get me wrong, I appreciate they are different kinds of exhausting, I guess I just kind of wish one of them weren’t so exhausting).

Separately my kids are totally manageable, I actually really enjoy being with them one on one, but together they become completely overwhelming. My afternoons/evenings consist of my daughter shutting herself in her room for some much needed quiet time (totally understandable) and my son slamming himself against her gate, screaming because he can’t be with her (totally understandable). That is basically the foundation on which their relationship is being built: he wants to be with her constantly and most of the time she wants to be alone.

{My husband has been talking a lot about how our daughter clearly isn’t the kind of kid who does well with a sibling. He thinks we did her a huge disservice giving her a brother. Yeah, that’s been fun to hear.}

Honestly, I know my kids aren’t that hard. I know SO MANY parents have it a lot harder. I absolutely believe we should be handling all this better, if not in what we actually do with and say to our children, but in how we feel about it all at the end of the day.

Lately I’ve been trying to figure out where the disconnect is, why we, as a unit, are being totally taken down by our two kids when so many other couples in much more challenging circumstances are not as overwhelmed by parenting as we are.

Because I see other people with two kids who are making it work. They go out together as a family and even when it’s crazy and hectic, they seem to enjoy themselves. We never go out as a family. We always divide and conquer or one parent takes both kids so the other parent can get a rest. I can count the number of times all four of us have gone on an outing, or even to a birthday party, in 2015 on one hand. I don’t even need all my fingers.

I don’t know if it’s my husband’s attitude toward parenting–he is easily overwhelmed and very defeatist–or my own, or if it’s more specifically the way our attitudes affect each other.

I don’t know if it’s how different he and I are as people, that we have totally contrasting needs that can only be met by burdening the other person.

I don’t know if it’s just that our kids are particularly challenging to us as people, because of our unique compilations of temperament and personality.

All I know is that the end of every day feels like we just fought a battle. Does that mean, for us, parenting is a war?

I wanted to have kids more than anything. It was the only thing I really WANTED in my life. My job, my social life, even my marriage, everything else was background noise. I had big dreams for my family, all of us together, enjoying the zoo or the amusement park or the science museum or a birthday party. I imagined my kids re-enacting all my most cherished childhood traditions.

But it’s not like that. The trip to the zoo is marred by multiple meltdowns. We have to leave the amusement park early because someone won’t wear sunscreen. There is a standoff at the science museum and I have to sit with my kid in a corner while she writhes and screams. My husband and I bicker about when we should stand firm and when we should give in. No one wants to eat the lunch we packed, but if they don’t they’ll get hungry and lose their shit.

The family traditions take five minutes to re-enact and at the end my kids are tired and I’m disappointed. We spend the rest of the time with extended family chasing after our children, or making them a meal they’ll hopefully eat, or trying to keep my son away from my daughter so she can get some space. I swear haven’t really talked to my sister, who I mostly see during holidays, in five years. I don’t get to enjoy any of the parts of the special occasions I used to love because my kids need constant supervision. There is almost always a meltdown over presents or dessert or just eating dinner. Everyone is exhausted and disappointed before it’s over.

I don’t know what we are doing wrong. I honestly don’t. Maybe my expectations were too high. Maybe I’m too selfish. Maybe I need to just suck it up and realize this is the next five years of my life and then maybe it will get better. Maybe I have to realize that this is the next five years of my life and the hard parts will change and it won’t really ever get better.

I know what an asshole I sound like, what a selfish, ungrateful bitch. I know there are people in the world, people reading this post, who would give anything to parent one child, let alone two, and they would do so without ever complaining about meltdowns or not getting to talk to family during the holidays.

I know I sound like an asshole, but I’m still putting this out there, because it’s my experience right now, and I suppose for that reason, if that reason alone, it’s valid. And maybe someone else is kind of feeling this way too, and it might help that person feel a little less afraid of being judged.

And if no one else can relate, if I’m the only one who is grappling with this dissatisfaction about parenting, then I can own that. I’m working on what it means, and what I need to do to change it. I’m hoping my husband and I can do some work with someone professionally, but I know how hard it is to get him on board with that stuff. (Even though I believe my husband, and our habitually interactions, is a big part of this, I’m working on taking responsibility for what I can do differently, for not taking on everyone else’s emotional burdens and for taking care of myself in the ways I am able. It’s hard, but I think it’s helping.)

Thank you so much for your support on these posts. It has been really uplifting.

Parenting & Family

Not So Positive (on) Parenting

Posted on by noemikjames / 37 Comments

I’m struggling to find my way back to this space. Where I used to cherish the opportunity to process hard experiences and confusing feelings in a post; now I dread it. If I have a little time at the end of the evening, I briefly consider writing, but almost immediately put it aside to make time for reading a book or watching mindless TV. I just don’t want to expend the mental and emotional energy needed to wade through the muck.

Right now there is a lot of muck. I have to wade through it, but I haven’t been all the interested in waxing philosophical about what wading through it is really about.

I’m not sure if this is the beginning of the slow and drawn out death of my blog. While a huge part of me considers the possibility with teenager-like apathy, there is a small voice buried deep beneath the growing layers of lassitude that begs me to fight this stubborn insouciance. Just write something, anything, and see how it feels.

So in proper me fashion, I’m going to write one of the harder posts, on a topic I’ve been avoiding for a looooooooong time. If writing here can help me process this, maybe there really is hope for my blog.

It’s no big proclamation, at least not in this space, for me to say I feel a lot of ambivalence toward parenting. I see myself as someone who has always been a little more outspoken than most in declaring the negative aspects of raising children in this day and age. I’ve always told myself that I write (and talk) about the hard parts of parenting because I think we need to change the dialogue around parenting in general, but motherhood more specifically, because it can be detrimental to new (and even more experiences) mothers. I believe our society puts motherhood on a pedestal that creates unattainable expectations and damaging standards against which women judge themselves and their experiences. I believe talking more openly and honestly about what parenting is really like will help us all feel less isolated and more successful.

Yes, that is what I’ve been telling myself for the past almost five years. Except lately I’ve been wondering if I’m so outspoken about the underbelly of parenting, because I don’t actually like parenting that much.

Wow, it’s amazing how hard it was just to write that sentence. It’s incredible the deep fear I have of being judged and rejected for admitting that I’m exploring the possibility that I don’t enjoy parenting, at least at this stage.

Because, let’s face it, it is truly something WE DO NOT vocalize in our society. To say you don’t like parenting is tantamount to declaring you don’t like your kids (even though they are completely different things). I remember how people crucified Ayelet Waldman for saying she loved her husband more than her children, and loving someone more than someone else still leaves a lot of room to love that someone else. What happens if someone says they not only don’t love parenting, but they don’t even really like it?

But let me back up a a bit.

It all started earlier this year when I began seeking out new women to build friendships with. For the first time in a long time I was introducing myself to other women who didn’t know me at all, intentionally selecting what I wanted to share about myself and carefully tailoring how I presented it. Interestingly, none of the women I’ve met this year have children, and even more interestingly, I’ve been really excited about that. Women without children are so much easier to meet up with, and they never want to talk about kids and all the mundane drudgery required in having them. Turns out I have very little trouble avoiding the topic of my own children, and I’ve really enjoyed talking to other women about the myriad other subjects women talk about before motherhood hijacks their lives and their identities.

Of course the subject of me having children usually comes up, and I am obligated to provide a quick summary of my family and my experience parenting. I keep this part short and sweet, assuming that a person without kids doesn’t want to hear much about mine.

{It’s been interesting to see how I choose (usually in the moment) to present our family building experience. I hope to write more on this later, as I’ve thought about it a lot.}

There are times, though, when someone else broaches the subject and I’m asked to talk more about my kids or motherhood or parenting in general. It is in these conversations that I’m struck by what comes out of my mouth. Sometimes I walk away wondering if my new friends think I hate being a mother. The truth is that most of the time, I can’t think of very many nice things to say about the day to day realities of raising kids.

A lot of the time I find myself envying my new friends’ childfree lifestyles.

Now if this isn’t sacrilege to declare in public, it sure as hell is in this community. How can I talk about how I don’t really like parenting right now to a bunch of women who fought long, hard, tragic, traumatizing battles to be doing (or in the hopes of doing) that which I clearly don’t appreciate myself? I can’t think of a way to seem more ungrateful for the amazing children in my life.

Oh. My. Gawd. The. Guilt.

And here is the thing (and yes, I feel like I have to say this because I’m hyperventilating right now): I love my kids. I love being their mother. They are incredible beings and I am humbled by the massive responsibility I’ve been entrusted with. I feel incredibly fortunate to bear witness to their journey through life and I hope I can serve as a decent mentor and guide, now and always.

I am very grateful for my children, and I would sacrifice anything to keep them safe, but the day to day task of raising them in not something I enjoy. In fact, right now, it’s downright unpleasant.

And because this ended up being a 2000+ word post, I’m going to stop until tomorrow. If you feel compelled to comment today, please be gentle.

To be continued…

Health & Well Being/Identity/Life

Insecurities and Self-Advocacy

Posted on by noemikjames / 12 Comments

I electronically accepted the terms of my life insurance policy this weekend. I have continued to feel a lot of ambivalence about purchasing this policy, and a lot of shame and regret about my ADD meds resulting in an increased premium. Whether or not I NEED my medication and whether or not I should stay on it is a source of constant anxiety for me, and to be financially penalized for doing so has brought up a lot of difficult and painful feelings for me.

I’m not sure what finally compelled me to call them about it this morning. I suppose having actually accepted the policy and paying for the first month was part of it. I knew I had a month to terminate the policy if I found another provider that wouldn’t penalize me as much (or at all) for my prescription and I wanted to call them to see if it were possible to stop taking my medication for 12-18 months and then either reapply or request a reclassification.

The person I spoke to was very kind and very helpful, as has been everyone I’ve dealt with there–the customer service at this company is exemplary. He explained that I could submit a letter from my doctor explaining that my prescription is not for a life-threatening condition and that it does not represent the existence of, or pose, any immediate or long term health risks. The underwriter can then determine if I am eligible for the reduced rate.

My psychiatrist is amazing and already wrote me the letter and put it in the mail. I’m not sure if this will qualify me for the reduced rate but I’m so glad I’m at least making the attempt. I can’t figure out why I didn’t ask about this immediately; it seems the shame, regret and self-blame was paralyzing me. (I’ll be thinking about why this was a lot in the coming weeks.) I REALLY hope that this letter works, and if it doesn’t, I’ll be contacting them again to see if I can stop taking my medication for a certain amount of time and again request a review for a reduced rate. I’ll also shop around and see if there are other providers that won’t penalize me as much, or at all.