mom

I was like a zombie walking through the grocery store. Months of carpooling and submersion in all things domestic left me feeling completely disconnected from myself. I saw it in how I was interacting with the people in my life. The expression on my face was dull, not the gentle vibrancy I was used to seeing when I caught my reflection.

I came home and wrote the following blog post, not necessarily intending to share it. But I believe in being real. And this was real. It’s got some language and some mature topics–and that’s real, and we’re all grown-ups.

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I’m just gonna come out and say it. Mothering can be really fucking lonely. When they’re young it’s a loneliness that grows in isolation. I’m sure I wrote about that back in the day. But this loneliness in the teen years of mothering is a different kind of lonely. I feel like my identity as Mom is suffering some of the same angsty shit my teenage kids are. That stage of development comes with finding your place in the world, a strong desire to be with your friends–the people who get you, and managing the overwhelm of a body that only wants to sleep and fuck, and a mind that is required to absorb huge amounts of knowledge on which you’ll be tested. And yes, I can relate this to how I feel in my Mom identity right now. 

 Even for the most naturally optimistic person like me, starting every day with a growling spawn in your space, silently insinuating that their condition is somehow your fault can let some air out of your tires.  The dishes. The never ending flow of dishes that scatter over the countertops and pile in the sink, yet never seem to make it in the dishwasher unless I turn my attention toward them. And this cycle happens at least three times a day. My dishes get more attention than any person in my life.

The schedule is dictated by the kids’ activities. Okay, I take that back about the dishes, because it’s the minivan that gets to snuggle with my round, warm little ass the most. If only my minivan could talk to me and tell me that I still have that sparkle in my eye and it’s so inspired by my verve and vision. Then give me a slow yet eruptive orgasm. Please? 

I know what it takes. I know what I’m “supposed to” be doing. Self care has slipped because, well, loneliness is not depression but it zaps your energy in a milder yet similar way. And the time…when do I do that and still do my work in the world? Practice what I preach, yes, but an hour at the gym doesn’t pay for braces. And it’s not even about the money, although that would be spectacular. It’s the momentum, the passion, the impact–those things pump up my tires. Guiding people through the creation process of a life that lights them up is a turn on for me–I crave it. I’m grateful to feel this way about my work. And the self care could boost me out of the loneliness to meet my work where she needs me to be. But…then there’s groceries. All the fucking groceries. The list that begins before the bags are even unpacked. The dishes, my minivan, and the check out woman at the grocery store…they get the most of me. 
 
I could warm this up with the flip side of the story–the joy I get from my kids, the pride I take in my home and what we’ve created. But you know what? Today that feels like effort. Effort that would be better directed toward getting my shit done. Right now, this is real for me. And blowing sunshine up my own ass is not a good use of my time and energy right now (another thing I wish the minivan could do). So, for the next 5 hours I’m going to step out of my Mom identity and put on a different one. This one is in service to my pleasure. This identity is a thought leader who owns what’s real and believes in her infinite ability to create that which she desires. She is a lighthouse for others who may feel lonely. Because I know that I’m not alone in my loneliness. 
 
Hey–do you think if all the lonely join hands we’d morph in to something different? The opposite of lonely is befriended and together. I’m going to choose to feel that today.

I became resentful of all the things I love. The people. The activities I do to take care of my family. The monotony of this role can be deadening. And then I remembered–it’s just a role. It’s an identity I have in the world–mother, wife, woman-of-the-house–but it’s not who I am.

The Spirit within me is infinite and this one expression of it within this human experience is barely a drop in the bucket of wholeness. Okay, maybe it’s a bit more than a drop, but infinity is a lot to express. I’d been here before. I remember. This place was a trailhead for a transformational journey I would embark on that led me down a path of self discovery and life creation.

And here I stand. At another trailhead. My boots may be worn in but I don’t know where this path leads. And that excites me. I trust myself, and I trust God. My Spirit is infinite and I’m letting her lead the way. Will you join me?

Are you at a trailhead in your life? Can you see yourself from your Spirit’s point of view, and does she want to shake your shoulders to wake you up?

What I know this time around is, although this is my unique path, I don’t have to travel it alone. And neither do you.

The buddy system is how we teach our kids to go out in the world safely. Let’s talk if you’d like to explore what it would mean for you to use the buddy system on this next adventure. I know these woods, and I believe that it’s time for you to begin.

Pick a time for your free session by clicking here.

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