I'm not afraid to say it--I got lost. In my academic identities, in my kids, in...a years' long funk perhaps? I knew that binding my identity up in my work and kids alone and defining myself through them wasn't healthy, but I'm not even sure I knew I was doing it.
I was busy. I didn't think about the fact that 'normal' people probably didn't analyze the articulation and speaking rate of those they spoke with. I don't think I realized (thanks to my love of Veronica Mars and Big Fish) that internally narrating events and re-narrating events until I found the right words to write was abnormal. Just like I didn't realize that a baby that cried 5-6 hours a day wasn't normal when I had my first until a pediatrician finally noticed MY dark circles when my son was 2 months old and asked the right questions (reflux and colic are evil, and we had them with both boys). Then there was the spinning, the awkward approaching of adults (not kids) to talk, limited speech...and I finally had the drive to ask questions and push for help when, as an Education PhD student, I realized my 3 year old wasn't developing normally.
I think I actually stopped talking to EVERYONE except 1) family 2) husband 3) our "Game Night" friends 4) My advisor and 5) my research team. Yes, seriously. Getting through testing, IEPs, and the mourning of particular things (will he ever say "I love you, mom"? even potty train? Will he be able to make more friends? Attend a regular school? Want to do things like Prom? Will he be able to live independently one day?) meant that I withdrew big time. Not to "live," but to take care of him and finish my degree. I rarely sat to eat as I had to chase him, took him to lots of appointments/therapies and doctors, and even when I had a babysitter helping I was usually studying or working. As he got older and 1 kid became 2 boys, it was even more that way. My second ate/nursed CONSTANTLY. I was sitting now (my oldest was calming a bit), but unless I found a way to read one handed, it was mostly about feeding that baby and keeping the preschooler out of trouble. Even though I'd finished my PhD, I was still thinking in terms of academia. My best friend/God mother of my boy's death changed things a bit--I made myself branch out and joined MOPS to make more friends. But even that was about kids, really. Then I had my third (surprise!) baby, and she kept me even busier with a Kindergartener, toddler AND a baby who I basically molded my world around--we found that Taekwondo met our son (with Autism)'s needs for balance, focus and discipline best and enrolled him and his brother. I took them, practiced with them, cheered them on...and then was making lunches, reading to everyone, helping with homework (and trying to make it interesting)...and it was all about them.
And something slowly changed for me in the last year. It's not just that I realized the phrase "you've got to take care of yourself first before you can take good care of them" is true. It's that I realized somewhere beneath the "mommy"-ness of me, there's still a growing, changing person. I love learning new things. I love coloring. I've grown to love CURVES and working out and my support group there (something I NEVER would have expected 4 years ago when I started going, though much more sporadically than I should have). I love hockey and mystery novels and spending time outside on the porch when the sky is blue, the wind is blowing, and the kids are playing around me.
But I also still love alone time. A neighbor saw me the other day walking after the kids had gone to bed and said "If you need someone to walk with, call me!" I went walking again tonight and I didn't call. It's not that I don't sometimes walk with a buddy--I do--BUT tonight, with my itunes playing and walking my myself, it was energizing.
I used to feel guilty every time I left my husband alone with the kids--they cried, and I felt like I was somehow failing them and him, since they were MY responsibility most of the time. Some days I still feel guilty when I don't take them somewhere with me and they're awake, but then I remember that it's healthy for us to be apart and for both of us to know who we are apart from each other.
That's part of the struggle with women especially and weight--I think we sometimes forget we have physical bodies. That's not to say that we believe we're all metaphysical, but, rather, than after having other people pass through our bodies, it's hard to believe that it still belongs to us and that the squealing things in our arms aren't the only things we need to care for.
Because we silence that screaming in ourselves sometimes, to nurture others, it's been important for me to remember how to advocate--not just for others, but also for my self--my physical being, my sanity, my emotional health.
Something Tina Fey wrote in a piece for TIME about Ronda Roussey keeps running through my mind today that I think neatly sums up the importance of self care and holding on to the belief of our worth:
"Imagine if we could teach our daughters to value their bodies for what they can do, not for how others think they look. Could Ronda Rousey be the one to finally help us understand that as females, we define the word feminine and that it doesn't define us?"--Tina Fey
WE define who we are and what we should do, not how we think others think we should operate. I only hope I can teach my daughter to be this brave and this true to herself, hopefully earlier in her life than I finally felt comfortable tackling it.
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