Stick figures and figuring it all out.
This writing was turned spoken at women's conference web talk in October.
Me, well, I would stare at that blank paper the whole time and finally at the last minute, as the teacher was calling to pass them forward, I would quickly draw a stick figure that would resemble some sort of occupation of what a grown up was supposed to be doing. Or maybe all of them smashed together because you had no idea what you wanted to be.
I floated through the years... existing. Being one of those kids who everyone knew about but never felt like I fit in just right with any one crowd. I was a kid who liked all the things, I was the one who hung out with the outcasts but would still be invited to glitter nail salon sleepovers. In high school the life I thought I was told to plan threw something else entirely in my face. Those of us inching towards 40 or more probably know a time where teen night was the thing to do at some local night clubs. There I met the boy who would make me a mom, at 17. It was not shocking nor unexpected…but certainly not planned. So I rearranged my last year of high school to graduate prior to giving birth - the irony is not lost in still having to take the “baby” class. Yet this isn’t some romantic story of finding my high school sweetheart and living happily ever after. Initially I was abandoned, disregarded and not believed. He went through a cycle of disappearing and reappearing for about two years, a web of lies finally untangled and I never saw him again. Life became some semblance of purpose creating a life for a tiny human, Yet I still felt abandoned, angry and alone.
Enter very early twenties - 3 semi serious relationships later… all ending the same way…let’s be PC and say they were moving on to the next person who gave them attention. Me left wondering why, being more angry, abandoned and alone. Yet, I found myself not being able to let go. I was suspended in a gray area of a friend-zone and fun-zone. All the while knowing I was again just existing. Forcing the stick figure to resemble something more than four lines and a circle. Going through the motions of what adults in relationships do, date, try, move apart, try again. That’s what is said of insanity right... making the same mistakes over and over again, expecting the different result. At some point I swore I was done dating, not bothering to meet anyone else, raising my child on my own, never having any more kids. Life laughed...
Cue the man that would eventually become my husband, in my mid twenties. Do you remember the shirts that had the fake tattoo sleeves? When I first saw this guy, he was in that exact shirt. When we finally met in person, I asked him where his tattoos were. He replied with “oh it’s only a shirt.” Which didn’t help his cause of getting my attention. His second try was when he commented on my newly attempted home hair dye job. He complimented me on my hair and I snapped back with “I hate it”. I believe that’s when he truly fell in love with me…
We got married because that’s what we should do, I graduated college and got a job, because that’s what we should do. We discussed kids as we had started the process of him adopting my child, because that is what we should do... But remember swore I’d never have anymore...Remember life makes jokes.
Shortly...and I mean shortly - 6 weeks after starting my first real job, and just getting back from Disney World - I’m a real grown up now - I found out I was pregnant...not unexpectedly but very interesting timing. The adoption of our oldest was final one month before I was due. So now my husband became a dad twice in the course of a month.
Juggling job, kids, relationships - all the adult kinds - along with rest of the ebbs and flow of #adulting. After a few more years, we talked about more kids. Did you know that at 35 it’s considered a geriatric pregnancy? So we had to consider that, as well as the age differences of the kids(10 years apart). So we decided that if by the time our youngest was 5, I wouldn’t be growing another human, we would be done. Life laughed...some more.
In the midst of some tragic events the grief we experienced pulled us apart and left pieces scattered...not knowing how to put them back together. Grief makes you feel angry, abandoned and alone. So after stumbling through the dark for a few months I found out I was pregnant again... three months before my middle child was about to turn 5. Ok life…
I was still drawing random stick figures that signified some sort of outline of what women were supposed to do. All the while feeling that this life I had created was not it, “this” is not who I’m supposed to be. But I was doing everything I was told to do... college, get married, have kids, job. We are told we’re supposed to have things figured out, we’re supposed to have a plan, we’re supposed to be the perfect offspring, perfect partner, perfect mom, perfect employee, perfect this perfect that. Do all the things.
And I tried… I tried until I was run into the ground. During my last pregnancy, I struggled with feelings of being out of control, and definitely not perfect. When I was recovering from having a human ripped from my body, all I could think about was everything I wasn’t doing. So I started to try and control things. Doing all the housework, all the time. Hovering close to my kids to be sure they were doing what I expected of them(that backfires trust me). When I returned to work, I took on many extra roles, in order to be seen as productive. Anything that I could physically see or do to make it obvious I was there doing something or trying to be the perfect person. I couldn’t sit still or relax anymore. Trying to make things perfect wasn't perfect enough, even for me. I realized that what I was feeling was not normal. Feeling like an outlander, not finding this so-called “village” that women are supposed to have, not feeling like anyone truly understood the feelings I was having for so long. Those feelings became internalized …I felt worthless, I felt unneeded, I felt even angrier, abandoned and alone.
I began telling myself and believing these things. I started to believe that I was an inconvenience to my own family. I started to believe that if I wasn’t doing everything for everyone I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to do. I started listening to the fear that I can’t control anything and I started to believe in it. I started thinking that if someone else helped me I wasn’t meeting my own expectations. I started to believe that because I was thinking these thoughts I was a bad person. I had no proof, no outwardly confirmation of this, no one came up to me and said “Really… you can’t do this?...why are you even trying… why are you here… you don’t deserve anything.” But it was there… loud and clear. And I got angry and I took it out on everyone around me. And I turned in to the horrible person my mind was creating.
Let’s get deep and really hit some examples.
When I am interrupted I feel like I’m never going to get things done. I feel like there is no reason to go forward or try.
I feel like I can’t focus, my mind is racing and I’m pulled too many directions. I feel like I want to run away, find a quiet place and just scream..
When I’m distracted I feel like there is nothing in the world that can pull me back on task so I should just give up forcing it.
When I’m in the middle of doing something, if I am asked something else… I get forgetful...like my brain literally can’t comprehend the question.
My kids get annoyed asking over and over. So I feel bad forgetting and I’m the bad mom for getting them what they need.
When my kids have “mommed” me for the 5,000th time… I want to disappear. I know you moms feel me on this one.
When I get “mom watch” I want to say “I don’t care”.
When my six year old is making random noises, and I know it’s for attention, but all I was is quiet to focus on one thing for more than 30 seconds.
When something happens that I should have controlled I hear “I should have known better”
When my kids push back at me, I take it as a personal attack. When I know they are just testing me to see if I’m serious.
When I’m in the middle of thinking/working/concentrating on something - I feel inconvenienced by the people that rely on me the most. And it’s a simple request...but I’m annoyed.
Then when the heaviness of their bodies melt into mine through a hug or as they are falling asleep. I want the world to stop. The guilt sinks in. All the things I should have done differently, handled another way, defused instead of lashing out.
The constant back and forth of believing what anxiety is telling me and knowing is all bullshit. The gaslighting myself is a rollercoaster, that I was the only passenger on, and I’m not having fun. That shame spiral is a rough ride.
All the examples above is where anxiety would yell so loud that I wasn’t doing a “good job” because I couldn’t handle it all. Things weren’t perfect. No one was listening, no one cared, why even bother.. I tried to get off or even rebuild the ride many times. But my anxiety is loudest when I try to relax, it’s loud when I say “someone else can handle it”, it’s really angry when things aren’t crossed off the task list, when I try to plan goals but don’t meet them. And really doesn’t like it when I try to do something new.
I am not good at asking for help. Are any of us? Furthermore, I'm not good at telling other people what I need help with. And let’s not even talk about being able to tell others what I need or want from a sanity survival standpoint... I’m very much “I’ll just do it myself” person (#thanksmom). Especially if I’ve asked you for help and there isn’t any. But the reality is I couldn’t/I can’t do it all, all by myself. That page of who I wanted to be was still blank.
I recently found a huge part of having my anxiety quiet down is to acknowledge it. Feel the feels of anxiety - which is hard as hell - then tell it to take a seat. It’s still loud, it claws its way up with the tenacity of a predator waiting for it’s prey. It creeps in when I don’t expect it to, nor when it needs to. I give myself permission to set things aside, move them to another day, or simply saying “I’ve done X today and that’s enough”….I am slowly coming to terms with the idea that actions and movement are sometimes bigger than the end result. When I’ve been interrupted 100 times and my kids need my attention… I get to choose to view it as a reset or not. When my focus is simply not there or it’s being pulled into too many directions, I know I need to take a breath, walk away and find maybe one most important task to do. When I procrastinate writing a speech for 3 weeks and freak out the morning before, I know it’s fear crawling all over my skin. Recognizing that your anxiety is a liar because fear is a high pitched squeal from a banshee just making noise.
While it is comfortable to sit in your known state of emotions. Holding on to anger, abandonment and going at it alone. The feelings of staring at that blank page trying to force some sort of grown up figure are still there. 2020 has given no cares about anyone's plans…I know it’s forced me to dig into some deep stuff that I don’t like. Adapting the drawing is sometimes the only way to move forward. It still may look like a stick figure...I know mine does. Maybe with slight variations of facial expressions, maybe adding clothes, but I’m still searching and may never find the perfect “insert what women are supposed to do here”. In that I know I am not alone nor is anyone of you a bad person for trying to make progress.
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