it is what it is

I used to be so angry. I was like a bomb, ready to go off at any sign of life not fulfilling my innate sense of entitlement and when I went off - oh man, I can only imagine what it would have felt like to be on the other end.


That was 10 years ago, since then I have quieted my anger with compassion and perspective. I still get riled up over things, but now they tend to be the things a person should get angry about - world hunger, the systematic poisoning of our planet, green-washing - as opposed to the occasional tomato on my sandwich when I am 100% positive that I requested none.

My life is better. It is nicer, calmer, happier when I stop keeping score and make the sometimes difficult decision to drop the rope and let people worry about themselves. I still prefer to be right, but as my wise old man put it, the trick is to realise that being right doesn't make everyone else wrong.

This isn't how I grew up. My parents were angry for most of my childhood. They'll deny it, but I remember the tantrums, the snide remarks and most of all the feeling that there was no way I could ever be right enough or do well enough. I spent my twenties working through that and will likely spend a lot more time convincing myself that I am capable of more than I feel I am.

I went to the mall the other day to renew my license. I took the opportunity to window-shop, checking out trends in both fashion and marketing, because evil or not, it is a huge part of who I am. Something I also checked out, though somewhat involuntarily, were current trend in public parenting. Basically, I witnessed a whole lot of grown-ups treating a whole lot of kids like shit. I didn't witness any overt abuse, instead I saw parents treating their kids like disobeying puppies. Kicking them with words and looks and loud sighs. As I broadened my scope I saw people all over doing this to others, to partners, to staff, to strangers. And I went one step further and though of my own recent behaviour, came up with a few examples of my being cunty to my kids, to Drew and to the world at large - where did it stem from?

Believe it or not, I am not judging any of the parents I saw - I am a firm believer that it is rare that we can get the whole picture from witnessing an isolated interaction - I reserve judgment for myself. Do I generally treat people well and where could I stand to improve?

Generally, yes, I am a nice person. A little narcissistic and impatient, for sure, but I am a benefit-of-the-doubt type and a see-a-need-fill-a-need type. So where can I improve? It almost always comes down to compassion. Compassion for the person who makes an ignorant remark, compassion for the person shooting me an angry glare, and compassion for myself, a woman who is trying very hard to do right by her kids and who is mothering without a map.

With that compassion I can cut everyone else slack and truly let things go. This gives me the mind-space to look at what I am feeling that is manifesting itself as this bitchiness and what I can I change? Often, reflecting is hard. So hard that I have done as little of it as possible this past year. I do the easy stuff, like ensuring I get enough sleep, eat well, de-clutter, get a little exercise and drink my water - and then I stop. It has been a band-aid solution, but it worked while it worked.

And here I am today. Full of compassion and optimism like I haven't felt in ages. It will take some work and time to train my brain away from negative thinking, but I am ready for the challenge.

s'all gone pete tong

I am feeling the weight of the events of past weeks. To summarize without getting too personal, I have had occasion to learn a lot about the state of my marriage, my parenting "style", my early life and family of origin.

There have been moments of great despair, hopelessness, resentment, anger, understanding and enlightenment. Things aren't "fixed" but they are "kinda ok." We'll need to keep going if we want to see where we'll end up. At least we both recognize the need for change.

We have recognized for a while that we were far from the path we'd planed, but complacency is easy. The turmoil of recent weeks has forced us to face some of our most secret demons, our deepest insecurities. And our dedication to each-other and our family is giving us the balls to face up to them. It would be so easy to run off and find a nice, quiet beach hut somewhere and forget I ever had a husband and kids... but I love these freaks.











So... same old song... we're going to use this place as a jumping off point. We've been reminded off where our hearts lay and that our time is precious, too. Taking it easy isn't horrible, but taking the easy way out is pretty dull.

I don't have big pie in the sky goals, I am hanging on to the simple ones like weeding my garden and learning how to make a roast. It might seem mundane to you, but for me these would be huge.

impostor in coolsville

I know my mind is a bit messed. I’ve been trying so hard to hold things together. Too hard, I imagine. If I had a friend who I talked to about this, I would imagine them telling me that I am being hard on myself. They’d be right, but the way they say it, it sounds like a bad thing. Like wanting to be a better human is a character flaw that I ought to purge at once.

I disagree, I think I’ve been convinced of feeling the same way a few times. But those were times when my spirit felt crushed and my soul weary. The happy pictures I have of myself are the times when I was content with myself because I was pushing myself towards the goal of being a better person.

Okay, I will admit that those times I was also quite content with the minutia, my home ran smoothly, my libido was up, my self-image was positive, I felt fulfilled and driven. And right now, the things I would complain about would revolve around the dull topics of children, husbands, body-image and home care. I would then quickly let the listener know that I was on the verge of a “big change” that would likely fix the problem. Most of these big changes have never been realised - I am a lot of talk - and many have been undertaken and have quietly failed.

So, I suppose, I don’t really know anything about this at all.

I’ve been contemplating neticide (which I may have made up), completely removing myself from the tubes, getting a fresh start. Granted, my five readers would worry and miss me - so maybe I would let them know where to find me again, once I complete my contemplated net death and net rebirth. But then I think about how it would look, or what people might think, and would I feel the same way in another month? And then I stop and find something else to busy myself with so that I don’t have to make a decision one way or another.

I just feel like I have messed things up by not giving my “all” to this or anything in my life. And I know, I know, I know, I can’t give my all, I have kids, I have a life, I have so many things to keep up with right now and no one expects me to be perfect at everything... I know. But, I have been doing so little lately, so very little. My morale is shot, getting out of bed is my first chore of the day and they just keep coming. Giving up my ideal of being super mom hasn’t changed that - the same things remain, I just do a shittier job of them. And now, I can't find things in my house.

What this spat of writing tells me, is that I am happier when I am productive. I know I can do most of the house stuff well with a small effort, then, maybe, I can find something else to fill the time I once spent frenetically cleaning and organizing already clean and organized things (and ideally, stop moving them so that when I am looking for the tape I don’t have to tear the house apart... it was in the snack bin, of course).

I am sitting in the shade outside my neighbourhood artist’s cafe. I was going to walk to the frou-frou one on main, or the crunchy one on main, but after a spontaneous turn, I am here. Not quite ready to go in, partly because it will likely be hot (it is a small, reasonably popular space) and mostly because I fear being outed as an impostor in coolsville. My Old Navy flowly peasant top sure to give me away. Plus, I don’t remember my last shower or the last time I changed my underwear*.

My fear of being uncool isn’t as crazy as some of you might think. I am a dork, which I know many strange people love, but sometimes I can’t trust my brain not to stall out - leaving me with the blank stare of a passport photo. No, if I am going to do this, I am going to do it when I am feeling a touch more “together.” Or at least a little less “stanky.”


*both have occurred in the last 2-3 days, I assure you!