Category Archives: parenting

Recognize. Rest. Regulate.

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“When you’re stressed out you think the marriage is bad.”

Hubs had this insight about me years ago and I immediately dismissed it as ridiculous. Thankfully months (years?) later I admitted the accuracy of his assessment and have worked to recognize the phenomenon in real time, so as to self-regulate and avoid immersing in false stories, making myself and others suffer unnecessarily.

So what story do I tell about the emotional roller coaster that was this past week? I had a ‘this marriage sucks’ moment some weeks ago and nipped it; I think I can avoid that hole in the sidewalk more reliably now. Yesterday felt particularly low, and I scrambled to make sense of it–the physician’s diagnostic and therapeutic mind taking over. The rabbit hole beckoned. But as of tonight I can put down the dissection tools. Life calls me to just be in it, whatever it is, without judgment, resistance, or exposition, for now. But I thought I’d document the thought and emotion journey here, for my own records, and also to see if anyone else can relate.

It all started 8 days ago when I realized suddenly that I would drive Daughter to college in six (now five) weeks. In one of those rapid cinematic zoom-in moments of the mind, everything about my life changed in that heartbeat; a new, irrevocable perspective emerged and disrupted everything, even as I had thought myself flowing with life’s predictable evolution rather smoothly. As if called forth by magic, strong and conflicting emotions rose in a whirlwind and began a multidimensional tug of war with my psyche in the ensuing days.

Excitement: Now after twenty-two years of primary parenthood, the last paragraphs of this chapter are only a few pages away–how will Kids and I write them? It’s been long and arduous, fraught and heavy with responsibility and fear of failure, my Book of Parenting. It’s also inarticulably rewarding and edifying–talk about the headwinds that shape us–I could not be happier about how we’ve all turned out. My children have made me a deeper, more thoughtful, more empathetic, smarter, and stronger person that I imagine I would otherwise be. I cannot wait to watch them thrive in adulthood; they are ready and powerful.

Guilt: But what about all of my parenting fuck-ups? When and how will those come back to bite us all in the butt, and hard? Whenever I admire my kids with pride and joy, guilt always lurks somewhere in the bushes nearby. *sigh* Oh well, what’s done is done; all I can do now is continue to learn and apply, and apologize and ask for forgiveness when needed.

Optimism: Dinner with an old college friend mid-week revealed our shared attitude toward artificial intelligence–one of immense potential and serious concern that self-serving and short-term reward and profit-driven impulses will overtake collaborative and holistic ones in its development and applications. We resolved, therefore, to combine our platforms somehow to amplify and advocate for the latter, and to find and rally fellow early adopters of that cause.

Self-loathing: This one is acute. Remember when I wrote how I’m getting okay with being squishy and strong? I did not lie, but as with so many things, my feeling brain does not agree with my thinking brain. As of today, I hate my appearance, especially the shape of my body as I see it in photographs. When I look in the mirror with clothes on, I honestly think I look okay. Not as lean as I’d like and as I once was, but not horrible. Then I look at pictures and absolutely cringe. How fascinating! Even as I feel stable, strong, flexible, agile, and resilient in my body, even as I recognize my remarkably healthy constitution, both physical and psychological, I cannot seem to shake this one severe self-judgment–at least for now.
*deep breath*

So the marriage is fine, my stress mind says. But now I’m not at all good enough myself?
How fascinating again.

Middle age. Menopause. Impending empty nest. Severe geopolitical chaos and uncertainty. Deep and meaningful connections and relationships. Rising liberation and agency in expertise and wisdom. “No longer stupid, not yet infirm.”

I recognize the laden morass of intersecting contexts of my life, its weight and density.
I resolve to rest my mind and spirit, to breathe deeply. I can be with and get through it, to find my most authentic and honest way, one breath at a time.
I can regulate my thoughts, stories, words, actions, reactions, and relationships according to my values and integrity. I can live a life with low risk for severe regrets, if I slow down, be, and do me.
Everything is and will be okay.

The Power We All Have

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Thinking about power: Our power to impact others and vice versa. What if we were all more aware, even by a little, of the impact (or potential impact) we have on any/all people we meet, even in the smallest, most transient encounters? What if we were all just a little more reverent to that profound (I think it’s profound) power and potential–how would we be and do differently?

Power To, as Brené Brown says. To make someone’s day a little better or a little worse. To hold people up or cut them down. To lead by example, to foster connection, to make a difference.

Sometimes Power To becomes Power Over, when our attitudes, behaviors, words, and actions hold influence over others and cause harm, even without our intention or knowledge. This reality holds particular importance today, on Mother’s Day. As many of us celebrate moms and their awesomeness, some are reminded of less than stellar maternal-child experiences. Parents hold so much power, and too often we wield it mindlessly.

Our families of origin shape us in ways that can last our whole lives. We also have agency to walk our own paths, however challenging it may be to loosen those family ties. It often takes a fair bit of inner work, to say the least, and I’m convinced we can almost never do it alone. From childhood on, it’s our best relationships with other humans, family or not, that save us. Those who love and support us, who tell us the truth and require the same from us, who hold us accountable to our own values and integrity, and who stay by our sides despite our faults and errors, save us.

“Tell me about your emotional support network,” I ask patients every year. I’m always a little sad when someone doesn’t quite understand the question. I celebrate when someone tells me how it’s stronger now than before.

I don’t expect that we spill our deepest secrets to strangers, or that we share personal things with everyone in our circles. I just wish for us all to walk around with a little more humility, curiosity, generosity, and kindness by default. What assumptions do we make about our fellow humans on the street? We show up differently when we assume everyone is out to con or harm us, from when we think we are all here doing our best, taking care of ourselves and our families. What if we meet people remembering that we all benefit from a little more empathy and understanding, and setting a goal to provide that for one another, even in the smallest ways?

How much can and do you impact those around you?
I bet it’s more than you realize.

Proud of You

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“I bet your mom’s proud of you.”

I sat in the car at the last intersection before entering the parking garage, on a typically cloudy spring morning in Chicago, just another ordinary day of work. A young man crossed the street in front of me: average height and build, light brown hair, clean shaven; neutral expression, walking with intent, apparently familiar with his route, a well-worn work bag slung across his chest–student? Office worker? I can’t say why I noticed him, as he was not the only pedestrian in the area. But as I watched him continue on his way, apparently oblivious to me, I started to wonder: Does your mom know where you are right now? Is she thinking of you? Is she confident that you are safe? I bet she’s proud of you–no matter what you’re doing, whom you’re with, what you will do today–I bet she smiles when she thinks of you.

This was years ago; Son and Daughter were still little kids. My thoughts surprised me, overcame me with something akin to nostalgia over the future? Out of nowhere, my imagination had cast me to sometime close to today, when my own son lives out of state. I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing at any given moment, and I do always smile when I think of him. I am proud of him, irrationally (though justifiably) so, just because I’m his mom.

On this day each year we drown in myriad writings, images, and expressions about Motherhood and Mothers’ Love, etc etc, ad nauseum. So let me make my contribution! It’s a complicated ‘holiday’. May you feel respected and validated, however you experience it. Personally I find it ambivalent and a little awkward, like an earned Valentine’s Day and birthday combined. Thank you to Sister for sharing this sardonic piece on the irony of Mother’s Day, and to Ellen over at The Examined Life for sharing this more contemplative perspective on all that women hold.

I think about Son, Daughter, Husband, myself… Of Ozan and Shane, Friend, Friend, Friend, Tribe. I know in some cases, and assume without question in others, that our parents are indeed proud of us. Some of it may stem from what we do–our accomplishments, status, etc. But cultural standards and social norms notwithstanding, I think true parental pride blooms when we see who our children are. Outside the distorting lens of evolutionary drive for progengy survival and intrinsic, self-perpetuating narcissism, who better than our parents see everything about us–our strengths, quirks, triggers, and regrets? Who else witnesses the full panoramic mural of our character, built brick by laborious brick, painted in layers of pigment and divergent media, over our lifetime, starting in our mothers’ wombs? The most fortunate of us benefit from the love and guidance of multiple supportive adults throughout our development. But parents, and moms in particular, hold that special place–that vantage of deep observation and knowledge of the whole of us–or at least the full potential of it.

As usual, when I experience some profound sensation or insight, I feel a need to discharge it. I need to put it somewhere, do something useful with it.

So what about the people for whom I have a hard time imagining proud parents? They are the ones I perceive as uncaring, arrogant, mean, belligerent, and harmful to those around them. How do their moms see them?

Now there’s a fascinating thought experiment. Can I imagine their mom? What does she know that I don’t, how would she respond similarly to and differently from me, witnessing the same behavior in her child? Could she and I, in the best circumstance, help each other understand her child better, more wholly? After all, parents are human; we have biases (see intrinsic narcissism) that blind us to certain realities about our children. It helps us to hear and see outside perspectives, if/when offered in love and compassion.

What makes us say, “…only a mother could love” about someone or something? How cutting and dehumanizing, no? Yikes. We must do better. What tools, frames, mantras, and mindsets can we access, to make more generous assumptions about one another, even/especially about those for whom our default narrative is ‘enemy’ or such? Not much that’s generative or productive emerges when we stand and live in that perspective.

When I see you, talk to you, hear you, experience you, what if I try to take your mother’s best perspective of you, and look harder for her sources of pride in you? Maybe I’ll try this experiment this week. I bet I learn a lot.