Just Putting it Out There

Today I got an e-mail from an acquaintance from grad school/facebook friend, telling me that in a desperate moment in her parenting day, she thought of my blog and reading there helped her restore her sanity.  Her e-mail totally made my day, it is just the kind of thing I hope for when I put these words out there: that someone will find something useful or resonant within them.  I had been thinking about getting a post up and her e-mail, as well as a series of shower-epiphanies, helped bring me here. 

I'm not sure where this blog is going.  But one thing that comes into my mind often when I think of it is this quote from Marianne Williamsom: 

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

 It's a mighty quote. And I think it's true.   And I'm not going for anything glorious here on my blog, that's not what I'm getting at.  What strikes me about that quote is more the idea that if we can get past our fears and be our authentic selves, and show that to other people, that is the kind of thing that lifts up both ourselves and others. 

Sometimes when I write a post I think, "Does anyone really want to read this? Maybe this just needs to stay internal dialogue."  Or I think, "Do I really want to reveal this?  What will so and so and who's his what think?"  But another voice inside me argues:  you believe in openness. You like when people show you their real selves.  You have to be the change you want to see. 

I've both been in group therapy and facilitated it.  Most people who cringe at the idea of personal therapy get even more antsy about the idea of group therapy.  Even me.  All those people, all that heaviness, being confronted about your "issues". But the thing that I love so much about groups is the fact that people recognize themselves in each other, once trust is established and true sharing has begun.  In hearing the stories of other people, in offering them the small bits of wisdom we have, in telling our own truth and being witnessed and reflected back: we are healed. We are empowered. We are changed. The curtain is pulled back, we realize we are all the same. And the connections that are made from that can make lifelong friends out of people that might never have crossed paths in real life. 

My idealistic self wishes that we could always be so open. That we didn't have to seek out sacred circles to share the things we are ashamed of.  That we didn't feel shame at all, but self-acceptance rooted in a knowing that we are all struggling with something, and all have something to offer one another.  Now, 37 years into my life I well know that you can't just pull that stuff out in mixed company, and that it truly is important that you don't make yourself vulnerable to just anyone.  I also know that even recognizing our common humanity doesn't make me able to understand or like certain people.  Like the Republican presidential candidates.

 So where does that leave me here: just trying to find a line between too much and too little.  Also, my focus is shifting.  Like, see how I haven't mentioned my kids in this post yet? And I just received confirmation that my application to be a Registered Clinical Counsellor is approved.  That is, after I pay my professional association a bunch of money.  A bunch of money that I could now earn back in private practice. 

So I'm thinking about worky things, outside the home.  I'm thinking about what's next for me, even though I love where I am.   I'm not ready to go back to work, I'm not rushing.  Raising my kids full-time is what I want to do, until they are in school.  But they're growing fast.  There's more room opening up for me. And I could work as little as 3-4 hours a week, to start. 

So I'm going to start getting my head back in the game.  First, I'm just going to do some reading.  And this is where my shower epiphany comes in:  it would be fun to write about what I'm reading here, and my thoughts around it. 

I'm starting with  John Gottman's "Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child." Because my focus hasn't shifted that much.  I love Gottman, his research on marriage is unparalleled.  I trust him. I look forward to hearing what he has to say.  It's the right amount of sharing for me, right now.

And lest I go without drawing attention to my kids:

The Year of Re-Emergence

Happy New Year everyone!  I hope each of you reading here had a love-filled and restorative holiday period, whatever you did with it and whomever you spent it with.  That's how ours was, for the most part.  Sean was off for a week and all we really had on our agenda was Christmas, and a New Year's Eve party.  Sure, we could have tucked into the much needed painting and reflooring of our entire house, which looms large on our enormous mental to-do list.  But instead we settled on catching up on a few things around the house and just relaxing.  We didn't even try to get out much with the kids.  Every day we spelled each other off so each of us could get a little time to ourselves doing whatever we wanted (Sean: nap. Me: yoga, read, write.)

A family staycation.  I think we all have needed it for, oh...a year?  Especially Sean and I, who have so little time to connect these days.  We had another baby over a year ago and we just set to work, both of us head down getting the job done.  This week both of us realized separately that we'd been in a sort of tunnel all year, and were just looking ahead now to see the light, the opening that leads to a wider world.  Not a dark and scary tunnel, just one we had to enter out of survival, because to look around at all the things in the world that we can't do in this time in our lives is too frustrating.

For me, entering the tunnel meant accepting my limitations and lowering my standards.  2011 was the year of imperfection for me.  I let myself be Ok with good enough, and I forgave myself quickly for my mistakes in parenting and life.  I didn't think about career goals or hobbies or exercise or organizing my photos other things I didn't have time for.  I just moved us all forward, towards the light, managing the chaos along the way.

And this year, I'm dubbing the Year of Re-Emergence.  Already I feel myself stretching out, wanting to try something new. Ready to take on something outside of mothering my kids.  Just something very small, mind you, because mothering my kids is still my favorite thing, and something I feel more and more blessed to be doing as they grow up much too quickly.  I don't want to to miss much, but I do want to start building more space for myself to contribute to my community, and focus on my health and well being. By the end of the year I'd like to be making a little income.

And that is all. I'm still keeping my expectations low, because that's been working for me.  And because the fact is, I still have a toddler, a 3.5 year old, a husband who works 60 hour weeks, and a house that needs paint and some flooring that is not 20-year old carpet filled with the various fluids and debris of 20 years of people and animals. Uck.

Happy 2012 everyone.  Best of luck re-emerging into your normal lives after Christmas break.  Thanks for continuing to check in here.  May this new year bring peace and blessings your way.

What about you all.  What do you hear 2012 whispering or shouting to you?  What do you hope to see changed in your life by this time next year?