Judgments

It's been a while, but lately something has been weighing on my shoulders and I need to push some of the weight off... And I say it's been weighing on my shoulders because the usual phrase "weighing on my mind" doesn't quite fit. I honestly feel a tremendous pressure is on my shoulders and not admitting what I am about to say has been dragging me down with the discomfort and conflicting feelings that are figurative weights on my shoulders.

Maybe this post won't be the same sentiments that you have. Maybe this post will upset you. Or cause you to judge me. Maybe it will resonate with something deep inside of you. Or maybe it will be a waste of your time. I cannot tell you how to feel, but I can say "Don't be a dick". Keep your comments of hurt and unwanted advice to yourself, especially after reading the content of this page.

As a woman, I am judged for everything I do or do not do. If I have children, I am judged for how many I have and how I raise them. If I do not have children, I am judged for not having a nurturing personality. If I get married, then I am judged for how quickly it came about, how extravagant my wedding was, and how much I pamper my husband. If I do not get married, then I am judged for being single or neglecting what is expected of me in a relationship.

As a woman, I am judged for how curvy I am, how skinny I look, or my lack/abundance of my chest size. I am judged for what I wear; how much of it, how little of it, or how much I spent on it. I am judged for my work performance; what my role should be, how much I am paid, and where I choose to work. I am judged for being jealous, needy, proud, aggressive, or meek. I am judged for my chemical make-up; if I am angry, sad, happy, or touchy, then I am on my period. I am judged for every single thing that I do or do not do.

Being a woman is hard. But, genes, right? I am a woman so I go on living my life. I have curves (or rather bumps and stretch marks). I have a less than stellar chest size. I chose to get married to an older man at a young age. I chose to become a mom at a young age and I chose to have two children. I chose to become a preschool teacher and become a perpetual student. I am much more confident than I was in the past, but still get emotional over commercials and words people say to me. I have a small group of friends I adore and a family who loves me. I can be a bitch. I can be sweet. I am a woman... hear me roar and all that comes with it.

However, thanks to unspoken societal rules and unfair judgments by the powers that be, being a woman can be hard. Which is why I think it is excruciating to admit when I need help. It physically hurts and gives me so much anxiety to admit that my life isn't perfect and that I cannot do something. And I know so many other women feel the same way, especially mothers.

Let's talk about motherhood. I became a mom at the ripe old age of 21. I was married and excited and instantly fell in love with my daughter. I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and it was just like the movies and stories describe; every sound she made caused me to smile, every breath she took was carefully measured by my eyes, and there are still no words to describe the joy of hearing a first cry, laugh, or coo. I was over the moon! But, no one talks about the other side of becoming a mom.

Physically and emotionally, it is DRAINING. Physically, your body immediately begins to try and "right" itself from pregnancy; the hormones come flooding with a vengeance, your body is left flabby and stretched out and everything hurts regardless of whether you had a vaginal or c-section birth. Your sleep schedule changes; you get little to no sleep and are left dragging yourself around in a constant state of confusion. Emotionally, you are drained because it hits you that you are fully responsible for the care and well-being of a tiny, helpless human being. While it is joyous and beautiful, it is also overwhelming; there are now doctor visits to think about, bathing routines that need to be adjusted, feeding schedules, and thoughts about head positioning during carrying and sleeping hours.

But life still goes on.

There are bills to be paid, maternity leave (if you are EXTREMELY lucky to have it) to calculate, dishes to be washed, and laundry to fold and put away. Houses that need to be dusted and cleaned. Dinners that need to be cooked and family visits to be made.

It is horribly overwhelming.

And because society believes that new moms are perfect creatures and should cherish every moment, many moms find it so HARD to ask for help or say that every moment it not perfect. It is hard to admit that you don't fit the perfect mold as a mom. That while you love your child, life with a baby and as a family is hard to adjust to. Which is why I spent the first few weeks of motherhood crying my eyes out.

It was the most beautiful and most awful time of my life. I found it difficult to adjust to the lack of sleep, I was scared to death to be left alone with a baby that a few days before I didn't know how to burp or feed or change. I was terrified that hiccups would be the end of the world. Or that I wasn't holding my baby in the right position and she would end up with a flat spot. I caught the baby blues really bad. And it was because it's taboo to talk about not being perfect...it's taboo to ask for help because becoming a mother should be the most precious thing to happen in your life.

But so many women let their baby blues go on for a long time or they don't admit that they have trouble adjusting and need help. They get postpartum depression. They find it hard to talk to their partner about it. They find it hard to approach the doctor. They find it hard to ask for help. Because society expects us to be perfect moms and so in love and to bounce back with a perfect figure just a few weeks later. As women we are judged for every time we ask for help and for every time we don't live up to expectations. This can be especially true for mothers.

I eventually settled into motherhood and shook off the baby blues. And by the time I had my son, I was able to adjust much better. I knew to ask for help. I knew that I couldn't be super mom and that the dishes, laundry, and cleaning could wait. I knew to cherish the little moments and ask others to step in when I just needed a break. It got better.

But, lately I have had a few conversations with friends. And I realized that being a woman is still hard... It still comes with judgment and a sense of trepidation when asking for help or when admitting that we cannot do something.

Recently I have had a lot of family issues. My brother is sick. Really sick. Sorry if you are reading this FH, but it is incredibly hard to watch someone who called you "four eyes" throughout middle and high school, who threw food at you at the dinner table, and who used to talk through every movie and t.v. show, deteriorate and change every single time you see them. It's hard to watch them sleep the whole day away, or be in so much pain that they can barely make complete sentences, that their body is an empty shell of what it has been. It sucks...

I am also facing my own health issues. I spent four days in the hospital two and a half weeks at home recuperating with a diagnosis of Lyme Disease. It attacked my nervous system and caused my neck muscles to be profoundly weak on my left side of my body, it caused my joints to swell, and it took away all of my reflexes in my foot. I am much better than those first days in the hospital, but it's been a long road.

And what hurts me the most is that people say, "You look GREAT" or "You seem like you are doing better". Ugh. I appreciate the sentiment, but it makes me cringe every time someone says that. Because right now I am battling an invisible illness. I look great on the outside, but my body is hurting on the inside where no one can see... My muscles tremble, my hands and knuckles are so swollen that I cannot hold a paperback book, my knee is retaining so much water and the pressure is so intense that I fell down the stairs last week... My body feels like it is constantly in a state of fighting off the flu....the body and muscle aches rival those that accompany a 104 fever. Sometimes I have headaches and tingling in my toes and fingers. Some nights I cry myself to sleep after tossing and turning for about an hour because my joints are so uncomfortable in every position. I can barely pick up my son or run around the yard to play with my kids.

All of this is happening and I barely complain. Because society says I have to put on a brave face...get perfect grades as a Grad student, play with my kids non-stop as a mom, cook and clean as a wife, and put in 110% as a teacher. Ugh...

I have been feeling like this for the past several months and I am scared to DEATH to push the publish button because I know that someone, somewhere is going to judge me. They are gonna say, "She is just seeking attention and wants someone to praise her" or "She is neglecting her kids because she says motherhood isn't always perfect" or "She is just milking her diagnosis. I know someone who got Lyme and they were fine in just a few days" or "No wonder why she looks like shit lately. She is ruining her life". I know that the judgments are gonna flood in because being a woman is hard... There is always someone who is dictating what I can or cannot do. What I can or cannot feel. What I can or cannot say. What I can or cannot write. What I can or cannot admit. What I can or cannot ask for help.

Or worse. People are gonna say "You are an excellent mom" or "I could never tell that you were struggling" or "Look how far you have come" or "Wow. You are so strong" or "You can pull through". Ugh. While the intentions are nice, they are sometimes just as tough to swallow as the judgments.

Because when you reach that point, you know you are a good mom. You know you have made it this far and everyone is still alive and you can make it through the day. You know that life will continue to go on and that you put your best effort forward. You know that there are circumstances beyond your control and everything happens for a reason.

But what I really want moving forward, aren't the sympathy comments. Or the judgments. What I want moving forward are the moments where you stop judging. Where it's okay for women to admit that they need help or for them to admit that right now, they don't feel as strong as they look. What I want is for women to admit that they got the baby blues or postpartum depression without feeling the guilt that accompanies such an admission. What I want is for women to say that they need a break from motherhood or life for a few hours because they need a refresh. What I want is for women to embrace their bodies and to not have to worry about their friend, lover, or a stranger saying that they aren't enough. What I want is for women to admit everything I said and more without being judged by society, by their friends, by their family members, or by their co-workers.

What I want is for everyone to breath a sigh of relief when they push that weight of judgment off their shoulders.

A Little Unsteady

A few years ago I got a tattoo with one of my best friends. It was my birthday present to her and also a gift to myself. It's a phrase that we continually say to one another; whenever we are upset, or happy, or when something doesn't happen quite the way we expected. We have been saying the same thing to one another through life's ups and downs for ten years. In fact, we believe in the phrase so much that we got the tattoo inked on our forearms so we could see it everyday as a reminder to ourselves; as a way to get through all those moments that we couldn't understand.

Over the past two years, I have looked at this tattoo numerous times. It's gorgeous. The script is elegant. It makes me feel like I have someone on my side no matter what, even if they aren't by my physical side. Whenever I am upset, I just have to look at my arm and suddenly a big problem doesn't weigh as much as it did moments before. It's become a mantra that I have chanted through my mind when I faced a difficult day at work, when my family was entering uncharted territory, and when I just couldn't figure out a "good enough" answer. It's provided a lot of comfort...

Until recently...

Recently, I was faced with an easy decision and an impossible outcome. It was a situation that will forever stay with me. One that will influence my career and personal decisions in the future. One that makes me feel heartbroken and hollow on the inside. One that I never thought I would be directly affected by. A situation that I had heard about and thought, "That would never happen to me" or "I would never have to play that big of a role". A situation that I want to simultaneously erase from my mind and permanently hold onto with all my might.

It's something that makes me think the quote on my arm is wrong...

Maybe not wrong. But maybe it's not as big of a saving grace as I thought it was. Maybe I held onto the concept of the quote with such reverence that I never questioned what would happen when I couldn't find an answer. I guess I never understood the power thoughts and words could hold over someone. What would happen if the words weren't strong enough to hold up to my expectations? What if instead of making me stronger, they made me weaker? What if they made me hold life's questions up to an unattainable answer?

What happens when your beliefs crumble?

My whole life I have believed in a few concepts that I refuse to let go. Concepts that I have learned through hard life lessons and personal experiences that influenced the steps I took towards my personal and professional lives. These concepts have been proven true to me time and time again by the actions of others and myself. Although they may not be the beliefs of others, I still firmly believe in them...or at least I did...

One concept is regret.

Regret is a wasted emotion. Or perhaps it's a wasted state of living. Regretting a decision, words spoken, or actions taken cannot change the past. Life doesn't move backwards. No day is the same. Therefore, living with regret will only eat up your future. It will only negatively impact your outlook on life, the relationships you weave on a daily basis, and the internal thoughts that course through your mind throughout the day. Regret only leads to hurt. It doesn't make you a better person. Living through the impacts of your actions, words, and thoughts are the only thing that can be changed. Moving on from what occurred and trying to be a better person the next time is the only way to combat those negative emotions associated with regret. Changing the future is easy; you just have to try.

Another concept is that people don't change.

Although this may be a controversial thought, it's still one that I firmly believe. People don't change, they only become more of who they were or they substitute their emotions/actions/thoughts for another idea. For example, in my last post, I discussed how I am proud of myself. I have become more outspoken, I have learned to love myself, and I have succeed in my professional and personal goals. That doesn't mean I am a different person or that I have changed. It means that I had all that potential and never acted upon it. It means that I let myself become more of who I truly am on the inside. Or let's think about the concept of people never changing in terms of addiction. I believe an addict can quit and they can turn their life around and become better at living. But, often they replace that addiction with another one. Perhaps it's "GOD", or the Steps Program, or smoking, or eating, or becoming healthy, or even adding a new relationship to the mix. Plus, the addiction is always there. It is a struggle they constantly deal with. I commend those who have recovered because it's not an easy thing to do. And many people fail at trying to overcome their addictions. But deep down, there is always that addictive personality. That need for something more. I know because I also have an addictive personality. I have been around addicts my entire life. I've seen their struggles and the outcomes of those struggles. I get it. But, bottom line: people don't change. We just see who they really are or they show us.

But now, I doubt myself. Maybe my beliefs aren't that strong.

One situation can change your entire outlook on life. It can leave lasting impressions. It can make you doubt your chosen path and the future. One situation can lead to so much more. It can make you look at the power of words and thoughts and question how much power should be given to those concepts. One situation.

One situation has made me look at the quote on my arm and question everything. I don't have the answers anymore. Looking down at my arm is not the solution it once was...

The quote on my arm reads:

                                             "Everything happens for a reason"

Reflections for the Proud

The beginning of a new year is always a time for reflection for a lot of people. They review the goals they accomplished over the year. Or the goals they forgot about along the way. They think about loves lost and gained. They reflect on who they are as a person and who they want to "become". They think about regrets, mistakes, and moments that could've happened, but didn't. They remember those they lost through death or through life's obstacles. They look to the new year for a fresh start...to redeem themselves, to move forward, or to gain control.

At the beginning of the new year, I engage in these thoughts and activities as well. As the new year rolls forward, I am focused on reflecting on a blog post, and a subsequent promise, I made to myself almost one year ago.

I promised myself that I wouldn't let others define me. I wouldn't let them take control of my life and dictate who I was as a person, as a teacher, as a friend, as a lover, or as a student. I promised myself I would remember the lessons I learned the previous year and I would move forward as a woman who stood up for herself. A woman who remembered who she was as a person and who wouldn't let others lose sight of that. Looking back across the year, reflecting on each move I made and everything I said, I know that I remembered who I was as a person. I not only didn't let others define myself, I defined myself a little more clearly.

This past year, I became a better me. Or rather, I realized that I really like who I am.

I'm proud of myself for speaking up. This past year, I spoke against those who created injustice, not just for myself, but for the littlest hearts of our world. I refused to put up with hurtful words, degrading politics, and harmful practices. I let my voice be known and I refused to back down. I fought for myself. I fought for what I thought needed to be changed. I stood up and refused to sit back down until someone heard what I had to say. Not only did I accomplish my goals, with a little help from people in the right places and determined cohorts on my side, but I did it with grace. I did it without stooping to the level of pettiness I experienced. I spoke up with a clear voice that spoke with honesty and without bias. I spoke with grace, heart, and without fear.

I am so proud of myself for finding my voice.

I'm proud of myself for accomplishing my academic and professional goals. This past year (and then some) was incredibly difficult for myself professionally and academically. I went through unbelievable change that made me doubt my chosen career path. A change that brought new pettiness to light and also new alliances. I went through hurt and pain at the expense of others words and actions. I also lost myself a little bit along the way and found that I can't always have perfect scores (a surprisingly difficult concept to swallow) and achieve the small goals. I tested my willpower, my ability to remain mentally prepared each day, and the concept of surviving on a few hours of sleep. But in the end, I accomplished the big goals. I graduated with my Bachelors Degree in Child Studies with the status of being a member of the Alpha Chi Honor Society and a diploma that reads Magna Cum Laude. I also attended professional development conferences and persevered through harmful learning situations to become a more confident teacher.

I am so proud of myself for reaching my goals.

I'm proud of myself for learning to love myself. When I was in high school, I hated who I was. I thought I was too fat. I used to throw up my food because I didn't look like the beautiful people at school and the actresses on t.v. I thought I was unlovable. I used to analyze every square inch of my body...inside and out. I saw so much acne, stretch marks, hideous feet, an emotionally damaged soul that was incapable of being repaired. I thought I wasn't funny enough. I wasn't smart enough. I wasn't outgoing enough. I wasn't a good enough friend, daughter, or girlfriend. I struggled for such a long time trying to overcome extreme social anxiety, self-doubt, and dangerous behaviors. I honestly saw no worth in who I was. In fact, this continued for a long time...well into my twenties. But, now... I look down and see my stretch marks. I can count all the dimples in my thighs, stomach, and butt that are a result of cellulite. I see the scars from years of acne and see more bouts of it pop up every few weeks. I wave my arms and resemble a bird taking flight due to the extra little bit of weight in my upper arms. I have what I refer to as a fanny pack...a slight pouch gained from pregnancy that hasn't quite gone away. I see lots of imperfections. I know some of it can be improved and tightened with a good diet and some exercise. But, then I remember what all those marks, scars, and curves mean.

They mean that I gave birth to two beautiful children and I was too busy caring for them, loving them, and remaining in the moment to care about getting rid of the fanny pack. They represent those moments where I indulged in a late night food fest with great friends or moments of pure sugar-induced bliss with people who mean the world to me. They stand for the ridiculous nights where I laughed too hard, danced too much, and loved enough. They represent the times of stress I endured and overcome to become a better mother, daughter, wife, student, teacher, and friend. They also remind me that I am not going to have the perfect body. I was born with whatever genes were given to me by my family. I make choices everyday that impact my body and personality. I wear each mark, curve, scar, and imperfection proudly. I love my personality and my body. I am a good person inside and out and I came to truly understand that this year.

I am so proud to finally be happy in my skin.

The start of a new year is definitely time for reflection. This year I constantly reflected back on who I was as a person, as a daughter, as a mother, as a sister, as a wife, as a teacher, and as a friend. I learned from my past lessons and became a stronger person. But, there are still so many lessons to learned and reflected upon.

I know that 2017 will be full of hard decisions. Learning how to let go. Accepting help. Remembering who I can trust and who is there to support me. Trying to find a way to get past the hurtful words, the people who cannot learn to love themselves, and struggling to set a good example. Finding out how to accomplish my personal and academic goals. Learning new skills. Understanding how to be loved and how to love in return. Accepting situations I cannot change. Living under the notion that everything happens for a reason. Embrace the fact there are people in my life who are not meant to be carried into the future. And relishing in the fact that there are those who will always be a constant source of strength. But, I am ready for all of this and more.

Because I am proud of who I have become. I am proud of overcoming the impossible situations. I am proud of loving my body and personality. I am proud to be outspoken. I am proud of myself.