What does it mean to be a woman?

Women are defined in so many different ways. We are defined by our careers, our choices to have or not have children, choices about working or becoming a domestic diva, biologically, emotionally, mentally, our clothes, our hair, our make up and so much more.

When I was in my early 20’s I made the life altering decision to have my tubes tied. I had two beautiful little girls, one of which was born with a congenital heart disease. I had seen both heartwarming and gut wrenching things. I spent a lot of time deliberating, with myself before speaking to anyone about it. Even now, I’m still asked, “But don’t you want more?”. I made a choice not to have more children, for many reasons, there was no single reason and I still feel that it was the right choice for me.

Over the past year, I’ve faced some pretty scary possibilities regarding my reproductive system. I have had multiple blood tests, internal exams and a biopsy. There was a possibility of cancer and I won’t lie, that scared me a lot. The root of the problem was not cancer or some STD or my thyroid. It was simply my body producing too much of one hormone, not enough of another.

Now I’m facing a new decision that affects my view of myself, as a woman. I was given two corrective options when I went to my appointment about my biopsy results. The first was a Mirena IUD. This was the simplest, easiest solution due to time restrictions involving work and kids. Over time, I’ve decided this is not really my ideal choice. I am, in many ways, a Type A personality. I like to have everything planned out, I like punctuality, everything in neat packages, dealing with things head on, do it and get it done. My second choice was an endometrial ablation. In short, simple english, that second choice means having the lining in my uterus burned. A do it and get it done choice.

Let me be clear, that making the choice to have my tubes tied, was and continues to be in my eyes, a permanent choice. That procedure can and has been reversed for many women though and that has been a thought that has brought me comfort when my biological clock started to tick a little too loudly. An endometrial ablation is a choice that is more permanent, it scars the uterine wall, which makes pregnancy impossible. This is a procedure that I have thought about at great lengths and that I am actively pursuing right now because I have time and help.

My struggle lies with how I identify myself as a woman. I am, despite my choice to have my tubes tied, a woman, still within childbearing years. My body and all of the wonders it holds was built to give life. This procedure, although only in some subjective way, takes a piece of my womanhood, my identity as a mother and nurturer, as a whole woman. These are thoughts that have rolled through my mind over the past year. It seems to be a silly fear, but I’ve spent a lot of years learning who I am, learning to love myself so that I can love others and to have that identity change, even if it is for my well being has been a little overwhelming.

Dear Daughters

My Dear Daughters,

I wish that you could see that some of the things that seem so big right now, really aren’t. I wish that you could see how much life you have yet to experience, the places you will go, the people you will meet and the things that you will do. I wish that you knew you already are part of a much bigger scheme. Without even knowing, you constantly change the world around you just by being you.

I wish you could see all of the beautiful things about yourself that I do. The way you show your affection, the way you style your hair, how your eyes light up when you talk about your passions. I wish you were truly able to see how awesome your body is without feeling the weight of our society trying to tell you that beauty only comes in certain shapes and sizes.

I wish I could make it better. The broken heart, the inner turmoil and angst, the harsh words, fights with friends, that math homework that I just can’t seem to grasp to help you. I wish I could make it all better for you, every time.

I wish for you an incredible future laden with adventures and love and kindness. I hope that you are able to find appreciation for the small things that life has to offer that make it so good. I hope that I have taught you all you need to know before you attempt to make your own path. I hope that you are able to find happiness and that I helped you lay a good foundation to find it. I hope that you someday come to realize that the world really is your oyster and the only thing that can hold you back, is you. Most of all though, above all else, even when my words seem harsher than you think they should, I hope you know that I love you.

 

Teenage Dramatics and Parental Insanity

Today, I have to remind myself to breathe. I don’t just need to breathe, I need to breathe deeply and slowly. I love my children, but today is one of those days that my eldest has me feeling like I’m slowly drowning. Both of my children have their strengths and weaknesses, this is one of those weeks that I’m trying to give her the support she needs with compassion and composure without cracking myself.

It has been a long standing joke about my oldest’s dramatics. Most of the drama that she finds herself surrounded in, is caused by no other, but herself. I’ve worked hard to explain that sometimes there are toxic people that you cannot have in your life and that some people, the ones who truly love you need to be embraced rather than kept at arms length. She is still young though and struggles with the desire to fit somewhere, sometimes anywhere.

Within a three day span I have listened and tried to comfort as she complained about a young man that she games with, who in my opinion fits into that toxic category. There was a blowout with her best friend, something that happens once every week or two. I thought those blowouts were more exclusive to junior high, but apparently I was mistaken, because they’re juniors in high school. Then there are her mixed feelings surrounding her long distance boyfriend. She loves him, but she doesn’t. She wants a break, but she doesn’t. She wants to continue their relationship, but she doesn’t. I’m a strong woman, but lately, when trying to help her through and guide her, I don’t feel strong. I feel like curling up in a ball, crying and yelling at her to get it together.

I understand that 17 is a pivotal age, that transition before we’re considered “adults”. I remember the pressures, to fit in, to be wanted or needed or loved, feeling like I had to decide who I would be for the rest of my life, what I would do… I don’t remember causing myself as much inner turmoil as she does. I don’t fully comprehend it and some days, if I’m being completely honest, to use her words, I. just. can’t. even. Nearly all of her inner turmoil is within her mind, and how do I begin to explain that to her?

I told my daughters once that it was my goal to raise them into mostly well rounded adults without screwing them up too much. I’m starting to wonder though, if my real goal is to do that without going completely insane myself.

I’m Not Quite There Yet (and that’s okay)

The subject of abuse is not as taboo as it once was. It’s far more widely discussed and recognized now than it was, in say my grandmother’s generation. There is recognition now that there are different types of abuse. This is a personal topic, that I have only discussed with those closest to me and often, even then, not at length. Writing as a wild woman, anonymously gives me the freedom to discuss and explore this without repercussions to myself or my children and I’m hoping gives someone else out there strength and hope, knowing that they are not alone. I also hope that what I say is not taken out of context, that I’m not saying any kind of abuse is worse than another. It’s simply my personal experience.

I met the father of my children when I was 17, he was 26. He promised me the world and “took me away” from all of the things I wanted and needed to escape at that point in my life. I thought he was a terrific man, and I rode off into the sunset with him without question.

Almost a year to the day after we met, my oldest daughter was born. Shortly after, I began to notice behaviors in her father that I hadn’t seen before. I saw people that I had gone to school with, and was chided for socializing for a few moments, even if it was just to say hello to an old friend. There was verbal recourse for wearing anything he thought was “too revealing” and he noticed any other person looking at me. He managed to isolate me from people, something that is pretty vital developmentally for a young adult. Shortly after my oldest was born, I considered leaving, but when that consideration arose, he threatened to smash windows in my mother’s vehicle, while my daughter was still inside and so, I stayed.

As the years passed, more mental and emotional abuse followed. I stopped looking people in the eye when he was around for fear of what would come from his mouth later. There have been accusations aplenty about me sleeping around, though it has been fine for him to go out for milk and take two hours, to flirt with other women, and even seek out affairs (something I haven’t even bothered to take up with him). If I had a thought or opinion that didn’t coincide with his, I was stupid. I had to ask permission to use the only car we had (with 2 children in the house), ask for money, ask to see the one friend that stuck around, ask to see my family. That list just goes on and on and on.

When my grandmother passed away, I realized how short life really is. When I told him I was unhappy and wanted to end the relationship, I was told I needed therapy, so I went out of spite. What started as an act of spite, became one of the most courageous courses in personal growth and I’m still thankful to this day that I was so spiteful. My therapist suggested going back to school and with that, I slowly realized how intelligent I actually am. I received my associates in the arts last year, summa cum laude. I realized I was not the worthless person he so often made me feel I was.

Within the past few years, my children have started seeing their father for who he truly is and as a mother, I can say it is truly heartbreaking. I’ve taken flack for staying so long, I’ve also taken flack in the past for trying to leave. Unless people are in a situation, they’re incapable of comprehending all of the ramifications. As of today, I have a family who is and has been unwilling or incapable to help me remove myself and my children from this situation. I have explored each avenue available to me. I’m not there yet and I know several other people who aren’t. That doesn’t mean I don’t see or understand the abuse within my own household, it doesn’t mean that I like it or that I’m weak. To the contrary, living with the mental and emotional abuse that I have, makes a person far stronger than others might realize. I’m not there yet because I don’t have my ducks all in a row. I’m not there yet because there will be an ugly custody battle and his reasons to fight would have nothing to do with the well being of my children, and I don’t want to give them more reasons to dislike him than they already have on their own. But I will get there.

I’m not completely alone. I have friends and family who understand. While they can’t help me in some ways, they are always there to support me and remind me what a strong individual I am, especially when I feel weak. I have a bright future ahead of me, one filled with love and liberation and I refuse to let him continue to take my life from me.

I’m Still Standing

I’m 35, I’ve been through some hard times. I think that every day when I wake up. After that single thought comes the thought about how lucky I really am, to have experienced it all, to have lived through it even when I didn’t think I would or could. All of those times have given me new strengths.

The times that I thought my heart was breaking, were times that made me realize how strong my heart is. They reminded me how I was capable of giving and receiving great love.

The times that people shamed me, humiliated me or put me down, were times that I realized who I didn’t want to be in some way. Most of those times, I simply decided that I didn’t want to be one of the people that made others feel so bad about themselves. They made me realize that while it’s simple to put a person down, it’s just as simple to build them up. Other times, it made me realize that I had become someone I didn’t want to be and gave me the drive to change that. They also taught me forgiveness. It’s a far better thing to forgive those people than to carry around bad feelings.

The times when there was no money taught me that I’m far more creative than I realized. I remember birthdays and Christmases and other important times in my children’s lives when there was very little or sometimes no money, but somehow, I always managed to make those times special for them. It gave me the ability to show them that even if we didn’t have a lot, we still weren’t limited. I wish more people could realize that. It is a magnificent thing to learn that you aren’t limited because of circumstance. Circumstances are ever changing and learning to improvise whether it’s related to finances or other areas of life is a skill too few possess.

I looked at my daughters’ most recent report cards. I had to learn a long time ago to ignore the looks of disdain from other people when all they saw in me was that I was a young mother. When I see good grades, when I get a compliment on their good behavior, when I’m told what upstanding young ladies I have, I’m redeemed. It is a constant reminder to never judge others.

The times I’ve spent with older generations, I’ve learned that even when I thought I had it hard, it was pretty easy. I’ve learned that they have a lot of wisdom to share and usually some of the best and most interesting stories to tell. It’s easy to forget that some day we will be older and people will be less interested in hearing what we have to say. It reminds me to listen, no matter who it is.

I’m not only standing, I’ve learned lessons in life that it takes others a lifetime to learn and by then, what good is that wisdom?

Doing The Hard Thing

I made some really bad choices when I was younger. When I say they were really bad, I mean, they have had big impacts on me as an adult, as a person, a mother, a lover, a friend. I’ve had so many looks of disgust and pity when speaking about some of the consequences or outcomes. Some of those choices had pretty awesome outcomes and even if they were bad, I’d still make them again knowing that they shaped my life today. Some though, I wouldn’t wish on anyone. The worst, hands down was leaving home when I was 16. I didn’t just leave home, I moved in with the boy I was dating and his (very strange) family. I’m not a person who likes to dwell on the past, it’s not beneficial. I’m human, I make mistakes. I learn from my mistakes and go on about my life, which is exactly what I did in that case.

This family probably fit the definition of dysfunction well. The boy’s father ruled the house with an iron fist. His wife left the house only to buy groceries and it was a very bad thing if she took longer than he thought she should. The children were not only allowed to quit school, but were encouraged to. They weren’t allowed to go to school dances or sleep overs with their friends, no sports or any kind of extra curricular activities. The father cut small animals to “see what was inside”. They were dirty people, in a very literal sense, only bathing once a week (if that). I took on the task of washing dishes after meals with the boy’s sister. When I moved in, they had an entire porch filled with filthy dishes that had food stuck to them (some months old).  There were cats who lived there that had never seen a vet and probably never would, who used the house for a giant toilet. The night I left, I was called a gold digging whore by the boy’s father. I was 16 years old, cornered by a 50-something year old man, who chose not just to call me names, but threatened my physical well being. Believe me when I say, those memories were ones that I was happy to leave behind.

A few years ago, there was a local search for a missing woman. The woman was a teacher, she had a two year old son and she was involved in her community. Her son was found in her car, in a pull off on a back road, but she was nowhere in sight. Her body was found in shallow, icy water at the boat access of a reservoir. It was a horrifying discovery for my community and those in the surrounding area. Announcements were made in the newspaper, on the radio and television when there was an arrest made. There was a double arrest, a husband and wife. One of the people arrested was the boy I had dated close to twenty years prior and it shook me. I was horrified and so disturbed that I had lived with someone who could do something so heinous. My skin crawled for weeks as more information was released.

Last year I was contacted by an officer at the department of corrections, who was required to conduct interviews and compile a report about the murderer for his sentencing after he had been found guilty. I agreed to talk to the officer. I met with him and spoke honestly and frankly about the time that I had known the family and had lived with them. I didn’t offer extra information he didn’t ask for. I was straight forward about my answers. I spent that afternoon with my mother, who asked me why I agreed to the interview after she could see that I was shaken by it. I told her “because it was the right thing to do”.

In December of last year, I was served with a subpoena to testify for the State’s Attorney at the sentencing. I had no choice but to go to court. I arrived that day with my best friend, who had also spent enough time with the family to know them the way I did. She had also received a subpoena. I had to sit in the same room as a murderer that I lived with at one point in my life. I had to watch as his mother and sister, turned their noses up while their past was dredged up in a public manner. I had to sit in front of his victim’s family and watch their shock as I spoke, while their tears streamed down their faces. When it was over, I left, and waited. I received an email late that night from the State’s Attorney’s office thanking me for my testimony and letting me know that he was given a life sentence without parole.

Nearly a year later, my mother asked me again why I went to that first interview. I told her that people needed to know what kind of person he was before, that despite what their neighbors and friends might have said, they were not a normal, nice family. It was, in some small way a redemption for me. It was a way for me to stand proudly and say I didn’t let you drag me down to your level before. It was a way for me to stand up for myself in a way that I couldn’t do when I was younger. In large part though, this one simple act of testifying was to give the court the information it needed so that his victim’s family could have the justice they sought and some peace at last. I quoted a professor I had who taught Ethics, “Because sometimes the right thing to do, is the hard thing to do”. I will never, ever regret doing the hard things, if they are the right things.

What even are you doing?!?!

Recently, I had a very long talk with my oldest daughter about the importance of her education. This comes from a mother who quit high school, obtained a GED only days before her first child was born and made the life altering decision to return to school at the age of 28. It came from someone who has struggled with the dilemma that comes when there is so little food that she chose not to eat so that her children had full bellies. It came from someone who has stressed about bills that were at least a month behind. It came from too many years of stress and worry.

She knows that her education is important, she’s 17. She realizes she has some tough choices ahead of her and life changes that come with adulthood. I’ve not pushed her to get a job like some parents, I’d prefer to know she is focused at school and has her homework done and is able to manage her time in a way that will be reflected not just in her schoolwork, but in her behavior as well.

My daughter had every possible excuse as to why she was doing poorly in her math class, starting with her teacher. It was her teacher’s fault that she didn’t understand the work. When I suggested the learning center to her she exclaimed that it was too loud and she could never get the help she needed. She attends a top notch private high school. The learning center is at the disposal of any student who is struggling with a class. I suggested Google. Google wasn’t available to me as a teenager, but I’ve used it many times as an adult to find the answers to a multitude of questions. Her response was that she couldn’t find the right examples on Google. So I asked about other students in the class, surely some of them would have an understanding of the work. She had an excuse for that as well. I asked why she didn’t come to me for help. I can’t help with all of her math homework, I never took geometry, but I’m resourceful and I was never bad with math. She insisted I “never have time” or “can’t help”. Sometimes, I don’t have time when she asks because it’s often when I have both hands busy with dinner or admittedly, my mind is somewhere else. I do manage to make the time when they need help with homework though. Her boyfriend, who is a couple of years older than her offered his assistance, which she also refused. She was even offered the assistance of a school official. He offered to find another geometry teacher who could sit down with her somewhere quiet during her study hall.

With all of these options open to her, I thought that she could find some help, even if it wasn’t from me. Then yesterday, my beautiful daughter who will soon be an adult sent me an email saying that she failed her mid-semester math test. I am the calm and laid back parent. I am the parent who will speak softly and carefully to make sure my words are not just heard but understood. After I received that email I was a parent filled with rage. How is it possible she failed her test with all of the help available to her? Why wasn’t she utilizing her resources? Why was she trying to give me more excuses about why she couldn’t do the work? She has been given all of these fantastic resources and choices and excuse my language, but she is choosing to piss it away.

I had several hours to think and calm down before I picked her up. I used that time to think about how to handle this, to remind myself how all of the responsibilities of adulthood were weighing on me at that age even if they weren’t mine yet. I tried to step back a little and breathe. We sat down to talk when she got home and I let her know that it was probably a blessing for us both that I had time to think and cool down and just how upset I was. I wasn’t upset that she failed. She’s gotten a few bad grades throughout the years, which I never minded because I knew she had been trying and giving it her best. What made this time different? She wasn’t trying. I’ve seen her toss her hands up and say “I don’t get it. I give up.”

So came another talk about the importance of education. This talk though was more involved, not only is education important, but so is putting forth an earnest effort, doing the hard things that we sometimes don’t want to do. We both talked, we both listened, she cried some, but we both felt better after.

What did I really want to do when she told me that she had failed? I wanted to yell loud enough to rattle the windows, “What even are you doing?”.

If You Want

If you want to hang your head and cry,

If you want to close your eyes to the world and die,

If you think you’re the only one to feel pain,

If you look at the world with disdain……

If you say you’re too sad to care,

If you put yourself down because you don’t dare…..

If you’re full of self pity and loathing,

If you want to drown yourself in your woes……

You go on ahead, that’s your prerogative,

But don’t expect to bring me into the dark with you,

I have too much to see, too much to do.

While you’re busy hating who you are,

I’ll have my face to the sky,

Dancing in the sun,

Because all in all I’m content with who I’ve become.

Love Is…

Love is…

Beautiful, exciting and scary.

Loving yourself and others, not just in spite of flaws, but because of them as well.

Compromise, without compromising who you are.

Knowing when to hold on and when to let go.

Comforting, when the world is harsh and unkind.

Tough, because sometimes it needs to be.

Supporting, when it would be just as easy to shake it off.

Listening, without intent to respond.

Speaking carefully, with mindful choice of words.

A hug, because sometimes that’s all we need.

Comfortable silence and joyous noise, sometimes simultaneously.

Remembering that each day is a gift and the next is never guaranteed.

Understanding that people will come and go, but they all play a role and offer a gift.

A hand to hold when times are tough.

Loving yourself enough to say no or goodbye when the time comes.

Choosing to share your love with others unconditionally, knowing that it can be taken advantage of, go unappreciated or hurt at a later time.

Making your own path in life, but allowing others to join you on the journey.

An emotion that demands to be felt, but no more than that. Other demands are not love.

Not jealousy. Jealousy is selfish.

Not prideful. Love is knowing when to compromise, resign or apologize.

Growing and evolving, with an understanding that you cannot change others.

Letting those around you know that you care.

Being present in the moment.

Allowing others to touch your soul.

Allowing yourself to breathe.

Things I Wish I Knew (when I knew everything)

I joke that when I was younger, I knew everything. I thought I knew everything. Life is pretty simple when you don’t have to make all of the decisions and everything seems black and white. These are the things I wish I really had known. They’re not profound, really. Just thoughts and ideas and feelings I have had time to look at, sometimes with fresh eyes, sometimes with eyes that are a little wiser.

Life will be bad sometimes, but good things happen because of the bad times.

You will make some bad choices. When you realize that you have made one, accept it, own it, learn from it and don’t do it again.

People will use you and hurt you. Sometimes those people are the ones you love most. It is not your fault. Don’t forget that there are still some people who love you and think you’re pretty damn special just the way you are.

Sometimes you have to roll with the punches. Sometimes you have to fight or struggle. Learn when to roll and when to fight.

If an opportunity knocks, answer the door. It’s better to find out than to live with the regrets of the unknown. Sometimes opportunities don’t knock a second time.

Try. If you fail, you will feel so much better about yourself than you would if you didn’t put yourself out there.

It’s okay if you don’t fit in, people don’t like you or don’t understand you. Being true to yourself is NEVER wrong.

Love yourself and treat yourself well. Do things for yourself that you would do for other people. Sometimes you are the only one who knows what you want and need, and sometimes you are the only one who can give those things to you.

You are a good person and you deserve happiness.

You are entitled to your opinion, thoughts and feelings. It’s okay for people to disagree, to have their own opinions, thoughts and feelings, even when they don’t coincide. It is never okay for someone to belittle your opinions thoughts and feelings. They are yours and yours alone and it’s okay to have them.

Take time for yourself. Life gets busy and chaotic and it’s so easy to get lost in the hustle, bustle and routines. Take time to read that book, sketch that drawing, feed the birds, have a cup of tea, go to a concert. Whatever it is that you’ve been putting off because you “don’t have time”, make some time. Time is something you never get back, how many people would regret having a cup of tea at the end of the road? How many probably regret not realizing how precious time can be?

You are never above helping another, EVER. I’ve seen this attitude, I’ve been on the receiving end of it. Sometimes people really need that ear, those few cents, that help with paperwork, those foodstamps. You are not in a place to judge, you can be in a place to help though, so do it when you can.

Use your manners. It sounds simple enough and it’s something most children hear, but we grow up and some of us forget. Sometimes a simple thank you coupled with a smile can change someone’s day.

You are somebody’s reason to smile. You may not even know it, but you are.

Keep learning and growing. People who stop doing those things have lives that become bitter and stagnant. Never, ever stop growing.

You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be pretty or handsome or smart or great at athletics. You don’t have to be anything aside from you.

You are loved. Somebody, somewhere loves you a lot. It may not fit your ideals or life goals, but it’s enough and it’s good and it’s pure.