Being a Woman

I've always felt the pressure of being the perfect (insert any word here). I know I am not the only one. It's part of being a woman I believe. The expectations held far out of reach. Completely unattainable.

 You never really grow up learning how to be a woman and why you are so important. You hear things like, "you make dinner",  "you have the children", "you are the nurturer." We should here more of, "You are everything." That title of being everything I never comprehended. The first week into my first marriage I realized it wasn't as easy as I thought. Eight years later and into my second marriage and I'm still figuring it all out. Pay the bills Tess, get of debt Tess, be the perfect teacher Tess, be the perfect mom Tess, don't forget your husband Tess, keep your house clean Tess. Who are these voices telling me these things? Myself... Who taught me to say this? Family, community, commercials, movies, the list goes on and on. 

Knowing the pressures I face can make life seem unbearable. Instead I pull in my big girl panties, roll out of bed at 5 am for the morning workout and make my day, falling in bed at night and wondering if I did enough. If I am enough. 

The truth is no one else could replace me. I need to, along with every women I know, needs to stop drowning themselves in life. We need to start enjoying it more. Being more caring and compassionate. Imagine what happened if everyone just said, "No, it's unrealistic what is expected." What if we set our own minds and were truly REAL with each other. Messy houses, messy lives, and all. 

I want to live in that world of warrior women. I'm going to start right now. 

My Choice to be Home

I've put off writing for a long time. Last month was a low for me. All I felt was anxiety and stress. It took me forever to find the problem. Porter. I hated that his first birthday was fast approaching and I wasn't there. I hated that he spent his days with other people. Not that they aren't amazing to him but they aren't me.

 

As Christmas break came and I final figured out why I was in a state of panic, I was finally able to tune into what I needed to do. For me and my family I needed to be home. This thought seemed like a foreign concept to me. My mom had to work growing up. It was all I knew. It terrifies me. As soon as I told Jaren I'm not going back next year, I felt at peace. I had been playing with the idea the last month and as soon as it left my lips I knew I had made the right choice. 

Still knowing I made the right choice gives me anxiety. I decided to start a preschool in my home for the next year to help balance my part of the finances. Some of my favorite years were spent teaching preschool. How can I do it though? We would need a new house? Items? Kids? 

I don't know how it will work out. All I know is that it will. I've had so many people say I won't regret it. I know that is true. I have worries but not one single doubt. I won't miss a year again. 

Passing on Peace

I have not written for a while. The holidays are a struggle for me. This year though I have found a new meaning to them. Watching everything through Porter's eyes has been such a beautiful experience. He opens me to knew ideas daily. Children are truly beautiful, pure souls. 

I struggle often with the fact that I feel like my childhood was taken away from me. Today I am just so happy to realize that I can live through my son. I can give him the joy and happiness in this life. That's my way of passing it forward. Of healing. 

My mind is not completely healed but I have a sense of peace that I have never known before. I am so grateful for it. 

My Rock

Sometimes I feel like I'm making no progress. As I slip into the comfort of my numbing out my life, I wonder how do I get out. My life is comfortable. I've already talked about my pain with silence. I don't think I've talked about the pain of showing up. 

It's so hard for me to show up. To be somewhere with more than 5 people that I am not close with. Sometimes it can be hard for me to be with just one. I honestly never feel like I fit. I feel like I'm an outsider even if I am completely welcome. I always wonder when they will find out I'm not one of them. I have never felt like I fit. Not in my childhood, not in my family, not in my career, not with my friends, even sometimes not at home.

I feel like everyone has to like me for some reason or another. Reality is they don't. I don't know if there are many people who really know the real me. I have very few close friends. I have always had trouble keeping friends. So I numb. Facebook is a easy way to make me think I fit. I could scroll for hours. I hate it. I watch shows to block the silence. I struggle starting conversations because I feel like a fake. 

I listened to a TED talk this week where the wonderful women said, "don't fake it until you make it, fake it until you BECOME it." I'm still working on becoming who I really am. Who I am supposed to be. Me in my element is at school. I love being a teacher. It is where I feel the most comfortable, successful, and loved. 

In the world I still struggle to make a place for myself. I'm working on not pushing people away and not bailing because I am afraid. I want friendship but I don't know how to make one. A trouble with many abused children. Thank you to those that go out of their way to care about me. I know you are there but my mind will push you away in fear of hurt. Maybe I'm just afraid I will end up caring about you deeply. That's the problem with me, I care with my whole heart and I give it freely. I just don't know how to fit in. I was never meant to "fit in." I was truly born to stand out. Now just to find those that stand out with me. 

My Fear of being a Mother

After I had Porter I felt like I was living the battle of my life. I was so overjoyed to have this little being in my life but fear quickly comes for the joy. Transitioning to motherhood didn't go smoothly for me like those moms on the Parenting magazines. For me it was surrounded by fear. He scares me. Loving someone so much scares me. What if I hurt him? What if I ruin him? What if he gets hurt too? I know I'm not and won't be a perfect parent but I'm terrified of not being enough. 

After I had him, I resented him (postpartum didn't help this feeling.) I hate even saying that but it's true. I resented my lack of sleep, my overwhelming love for him, but most of all the fear that came from loving him. I still have moments when I feel like I'm getting stared at as I chase my child down the hall at church. When he tries to climb out of the buckled in cart in Target. When he grabs the little newborn infant's face. I have moments when I think, I have to be the worst mom ever. My child drives me crazy and I only have the one. I know I'm not the only mom with these moments. I'm going to work harder on letting go and loving his "personality." 

I can handle a room full of children but my own child is a whole different story. Just acknowledging how I feel about him. How much it hurts to love him. I know that he's already growing up faster than he should. He drives me crazy but it's because I love him to the depth of who I am. It's true sometimes when I get him to bed at night it's great. I miss him though. There is nothing better than holding him when he lets me cuddle him and feeling him close to me. I didn't know you could love someone so much. My fear of being a mother comes from being afraid of loving him too much. It's already happened though. I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

My Guardian Angels

What a week this has been. I've really struggled this week. When I struggle I numb. This week the numbing of my choice was The Office. I binged watch most of the week. I had to avoid writing because that's when my difficult feelings come out. For some reason this week I was in an extremely triggered mood. 

Triggers are when you listen to a song and it reminds you exactly of a specific time you heard it. When you smell something baking and you get taken back to your grandmother's kitchen. I have triggers that make me draw into myself. Tonight it was Jaren telling me about finances. I immediately shut down. It was hard for me to say, Jaren this is how I feel like you said this. Luckily, I did and he talked it through with me. It's amazing how in one moment I can be brought to tears. 

One thought I have about this week's trigger was the time of year. My Grandpa Dotson died 16 years ago this week. My Grandpa Polson died 15 years ago next month. Veterans Day comes and it puts me into a slump. My Grandpa's were my heroes. I spent much of my childhood with them. They protected me and loved me when I felt lost. I remember often my Grandpa Dotson picking me up in the early morning so I could get away. I have so many memories from them. They both died too early. I am blessed to have two wonderful Grandmothers who haved loved me along the way. 

This week was hard. You'll know my hard weeks because I can't write. I don't want to face the hard things because I don't feel strong enough. 

I know I need to write. I know I need to face my shame and hurt to heal. I miss my grandfathers a lot. I have felt them here on this earth guiding me and protecting me many times. How blessed I am to have guardian angels with me as I heal every day. 

No One Knew/The Memories

To understand how I fight my battle you must know a piece of what I have gone through. My mom, dad, and step-mom never knew that I was abused until a few years ago. To bring it up in casual conversation isn't an easy thing to maneuver. It's scary telling people the truth because then it changes what people think of you whether you like it or not, or for good or bad. Many people's image of me has been change by coming into the open. 

I have finally felt freedom like never before. It's terrifying and yet so joyful. I know it's part of my healing process to write about my story and also help others along my way. 

I have a very skewed image of what my childhood was. I have very few memories of my childhood. Compared to the 'normalish' person that can pull up Christmas memories or memories of happy times, I can't. I have no way to recall memories I want and no control of pulling up memories I have no desire to remember. God gives abused children the most beautiful gift, the gift to blank out traumatic events. I always hated that I couldn't remember things until about a month ago when I realized how protected I have been. The most I can remember without severe skewing is my dad and step-mom, Jodi's, house. I remember it the most clear and also the happiness of my grandparent's house. Other than that I have glimpses of memories that come to me in time. 

Memories that come in moments when I am driving in the car not listening to the radio or moments when everything is quiet. In fact, while writing this, this is the first time I have ever figured out this is when memories come to me. I never have quiet. I always fill my car with music, books on tapes, or talks. In the morning I can't stand the quiet I have to watch food network shows to fill the blank air. While my husband drives I have to spend endless amounts of time scrolling through Facebook. I can't have silence because that's when the memories come back. I literally put up a wall against the fear and numb from silence. 

As I have learned from Brène Brown you can't numb the fear and anger without numbing the joy. Now finally realizing where I numb and specifically why I numb, I need to figure out how to change it. I must "lean in" to my fear to help me find my joy. 

The abuse in my past still lingers through the abuse I give myself today. The dreaded shame and thoughts of perfectionism that swarm me constantly. The pain of never being enough bombards me daily. I'm getting there though. I can recognize the triggers when they happen and I'm beginning to walk through them. 

This weekend is an example of a very specific trigger. I was already to leave for an activity. I had the diaper bag ready to go, the dozens of cookies I had carefully made. I had told Jaren I was ready. As he comes in from mowing the lawn he tells me that he's going to drop me off and get his hair cut, he would only be gone a few minutes. In my mind we were already late and there it was, I was triggered. I became so upset beyond reason. I didn't even know why I was mad. I literally had lost my thinking process to the point I couldn't handle him changing the plan. After my sweet husband let me "freak out" to put it kindly, for a good while. I finally became somewhat reasonable again. A symptom of abused people is  triggers, when a situation goes from a level 3 to a level "oh my gosh the house is burning down we are all gonna die!" He talked everything through with me. Not only was I abused as a child, I was also in an abusive relationship for a while.  His comment to leave me alone had triggered me back to situations with my ex. I was panicked that he didn't care about me, that he didn't love me, and that I wasn't good enough. Luckily we came to that conclusion and I was able to calm down. 

Talking through things is extremely important to me or I will just shut down. Does this happen this well every time I am triggered? No. Are we getting somewhere? Yes. I'm so lucky I have a patient husband. I'm also grateful I have a place to write to say what I'm feeling. To know I am not alone in this process. 

No one knew I was abused then, now everyone does. That's part of my fight to not hold my fear in anymore.