Moms...you are not fucking up

This mother's day feels really emotional. I can feel it swelling inside. And so I sit and write this in my own way of reflecting.

I think it's emotional for me, because as I round the corner to my kids' 8th birthday... some of the guilt about "the kind of mother I am" has come to a head and is starting to rupture.

Coincidentally (or not) I had surgery last week to deal with a ruptured cysts in my breast - bringing a lot of emotion to the surface. So much of my self-worth and role as a mother wrapped up in my bosom.
This "rupture" comes with an immense amount of healing, but...

Not without some conflict and turmoil of course.

Oh it's confronted me hard. And I it.

The first few years of being a mother were such an intense struggle for me.
I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Trying to navigate having twins, watch, read, research, pay attention and be present seemed like a never ending battle. I was always second guessing myself.
"What the fuck am I doing?!" seemed to play over and over like a broken record.
I didn't want anyone telling me what to do. I wanted to figure it out for my damn self.

I have many regrets, I have lots of "bad" memories. There are things that cause me to physically cringe. Like the times I screamed in my children's faces out of sheer exhaustion and all the times I had to lay them down, walk away and let them cry because I needed to catch my own breath.

I noticed recently, that I have all this shame - I have held so tightly, in my deep dark secret place. It actually causes me physical pain. It's a heavy load for my body to carry around.
I wasn't aware I still was.

Most people think I am so open, so honest, so vulnerable. Yeah sure - the bits and pieces I feel comfortable enough to let you know about. The story I tell is always somewhat tailored so I don't seem quite as bad as I am, or as I think I am.
Motherhood has been the source of a heavy load I have not been honest about.

This realization sliced me open during a visit with a friend recently. I struggle to be around new moms because of the swell of feelings it brings back for me.
Sheer terror.
No, seriously. I feel my chest tighten and my memory start to flood. I listen to people tell their stories of what they are doing, how tired they are, or maybe the style of parent they are or want to be, the books they are reading - and I just think of all the times I shit the bed and my shame grows. A wave too big for me to ride...until now.



This year, I finally started taking really good care of myself. Or as Elana Brower says engaging in the act of "ruthless self-care". It comes first.
I didn't make this decision willingly - I got to a point last year where I had no other choice, I was losing grip. I wasn't just headed toward the danger zone, I was living in it.

Now when I decided to make myself a priority what I didn't expect, (or believe) - is that my kids would be direct recipients of the benefits of this decision.
They confirmed this recently when one of them said and the other agreed:
"Mom, you are way less grumpy".

Hell, I'll take it. It's working.
I think that because of this, this new found self-care and love allows me to confront my shame, open up to it, surrender the grip and let it go. It serves me not.

So this mother's day weekend I sit and reflect on the worry that consumed me, the nights I've sat alone after they go to sleep with endless fear about how my depression has (and will) affected them.
My anger fits, my crying, my screaming...and so on.
I'm letting it go.
Because that's what best for me.

I know "The kind of mother I am", and it's not just one kind. It's ALL the kinds.

On this 8th anniversary of "motherhood" (the most gangster ass hood of them all) - 

I choose to forgive myself.

I am growing, I did the best I could with what I knew, and now I know that -

I AM Doing a good job!
And another truth is -

You are all doing a good job.

I think there is balance to be found - somewhere between striving for this elusive pinterest-life-perfection that gets shoved down our throats - and succumbing to suffocating base line normal of suffering on the daily (or damn near).

We don't have to do it all - but we can choose where our priorities really lie and I hope to hell you make the top of that list my sisters.

We don't need to live a picture perfect life - because everyone's picture is different -and what the heck does that mean anyway... but we can certainly learn to love ourselves and treat ourselves with much love, respect and kindness. To celebrate and honour how bad-ass we are.

What do you want? How do you want life to look? WHO DO YOU WANT TO BE?
Figure it out and go after it. Seek help, get support, map that shit out.
Your kids...will benefit. I promise you.
Today take 10 minutes to sit down and visualize what that looks like to you. Then write it out!
Stick it up where it's in your beautiful face every single day.
Ask your people - kids included - to remind you.

I am so grateful for this new found self-love and for all the education and support I have received - to make it a way of life.

Lilly and Oliver have shown me time and time again that I am a great Mom.
So despite my depression, my breakdowns, my uncontrollable sobbing and rage - my children feel my love, even though I have shown them my wounds and they've loved me even more because of them.

I have learned to be humble. To show my weaknesses and that it's ok to make mistakes.

I have gone in puffy-eyed and said to my babies "I'm sorry. Mommy is so tired and sad today" and they have lept up to inhale my apology, wipe my tears and rub my back.

Our children have the capacity to hold space for us if we let them.
They WANT to, which is the most beautiful part.

I have NO parenting advice. None whatsoever.

But I do know this: (ahem, a letter to my fellow mothers)

Dear other Mothers, yeah you,
You are way better at this than you give yourself credit for.
Your vulnerability is a beautiful thing.

We are mothers but we are HUMAN. Showing up fully and showing our children the full spectrum of human emotion is heart-bursting.
There is NO style of parenting, there is only you and your child figuring this shit out - together.
You are nailing it.

I hope you see that. I hope you see that YOU being that child's mother is NO accident. You were put here together for one reason or another. Fill yourself up with that knowing.

I love you all - you are all beauties.

And to my own mother:
Thank you.
A million times over for being the woman that you are. For being a trailblazer, for being so beautifully human and showing me the strength in that. For not caring about what other people think - and being yourself. For loving and accepting people and holding compassion for them just as they are.

I love you. I am proud to be just like you in so many ways.
Love Sweetums