WOMEN

Happy Women's Month.

Has it really been since August that I last wrote? I've kept silent through a turbulent political season, a worldwide pandemic, winter quarantine and my child with ADHD? Huh. I must really be liking this new dosage.

Really, I've been silent because there's TOO MUCH to do, TOO MUCH to think, TOO MUCH to say and TOO LITTLE time, passion and motivation to speak up. There's TOO MUCH pain in the world and my pain seems like a drop in the bucket. A little ditty is going around on social media that about sums it up:

"She believed she could and she almost did, but then a pandemic hit and someone asked her to do double the amount of work with the same amount of hours in the day, and someone else asked her to be the best version of herself while running on fumes, and she lost track of realistic expectations until she heard all the women talking, realized she wasn't alone, poured another cup of coffee and decided her best was enough."

Isn't it the truth?

I took on an additional job, then more responsibilities that weren't there before for the same amount of money in the same period of time. 

I'm being super mom in a quarantine with a child with special needs.

My husband is a first responder and has his own mental needs of which I feel like I can't even scrape the surface.

Friends are going through such heartache in their lives and I'm helping them to stand and cope.

My own personal worries keep getting set on the back burner where they're burning and singeing the stovetop, which is another worry because I'm going to have to scrape that shit off at some point.

I'm also the main housekeeper, chore master, entertainment scheduler, school driver, appointment maker and taker, grocery shopper and meal planner/maker, rememberer of the house and those typical parent and adult duties are really taking their toll.

My family does all they can to help out, but as we all know, there are just things that I do. I take time to myself as well, but let's be honest - unless it's a solo grocery trip or an exfoliating bath, I'm not going to plan something extra! It's just not going to happen in a pandemic - especially if it's happening after 8:30pm. (7:30pm). And a solo grocery trip and an exfoliating bath are not self-care - let's normalize that right now.

But a dam broke the other day. Inspiration came in the way of joining a zoom sesh with colleagues. The topic of convo was International Women's Day and the women who inspire us. I got onto the zoom late and was eating my lunch, stuffing in my salad while watching my friends emote about the women in their lives to whom they look up. I was racking my brain for a single female inspiration, and I realized that I couldn't pick just one. 

When the time came for me to speak, I realized I had my answer - and I apologized ahead of time for sounding conceited. I answered that I looked up to myself. I told the group that I'm inspired by every woman I meet, and I take a little bit of what inspires me from them and add it to my own personal supply of goals, needs and desires. In that way, I keep a treasure trove of inspirational goodness, support and encouragement within me. I said that I've been through THE SHIT (that's what I call the deepest darkest times) and I kept waking up and hoping for a better day. I also said that I'm not confident all the time, I'm not my best self all the time - not nearly - but that I try. I said that I fall down seven times and get up eight - that Japanese proverb. I said, "I look up to me."

And the group was quiet and I became a little nervous, but in my heart of hearts, I knew I was right - and I gave myself kudos for speaking my truth. Then, one by one, people's eyes lit up. One person nodded, another clapped and yet another raised her hands, and then someone said, quietly, "Blaine, that's how we all should feel." I can't tell you how great that felt.

Over the past week I've been reflecting on that conversation and the breakthrough feeling that came over me when I realized that I had put into words a practice that I've been doing, unconsciously, for a very long time. I really think that the women (and men) whom I've met who I love and who love me have shown me how to be proud of myself. In spite of or because of all my little idiosyncrasies, goofy habits, and anxieties, my people always show me how they respect me, love me and are OKAY with me. That makes me ACCEPT me. And the little bits that I take away from them aren't ME becoming like THEM, it's THEM becoming a part of ME.

To all my friends and family and colleagues who have accepted me, thank you for loving me so that I can love me.

Since that conversation, I've noticed something about myself. I'm sitting taller, I'm taking less shit from people and I'm feeling much more confident in myself and my decisions. That's a hard row to hoe for a person with anxiety and depression.

That dam broke because I needed to hear and was willing and ready to listen to the LOVE I have for myself, to the FIGHT I've fought over this past year and to the PROMISE I have for the future. Yes, I'm tired of all of this - the home schooling, the child rages, the workload at home and at the office (and at the home office), the exhaustion, the not hugging people, the not seeing smiles, all of it - but I know that there is an end to it coming. I've handled tough shit before and I can handle this. 

Because y'all love me and know I can.

Thank you.

PS - If I had to choose one inspirational woman in my life and I couldn't choose myself, I'd choose my maternal grandmother, who: a) gave birth to a stillborn but at that time wasn't allowed to go to the burial and didn't know where the child was buried for the longest time, b) gave birth to eight healthy children and fed them full dinners (like meat, potatoes, vegetables and cake) every night while working on a farm, c) moved with her family when her husband was singled out by Al Capone, d) lived in fear while that same husband worked as a volunteer firefighter, e) was an artist, f) fell and blacked out while walking her dog on a cold November night in Michigan only to be found in the morning (her dog had kept her heart warm), and then was discovered to have dementia so that she never went back to that home where she lived alone. And she's still a sassy little stink. Heroine.