She's Worth It

Forty-six years. It has taken me forty-six years to begin to know my worth. Somedays I cry from the grief of all the lost time when I did not know, and somedays I cry knowing that at least I am beginning to know instead of living forever not knowing. The grief has been surprising but it shouldn’t be. Of course there is grief, I missed out on so much and I gave the best parts of me away to everyone else.

I know that I come on here all the time with revelations about myself and they have all been true and enlightening. They were stepping stones to a true knowing. I knew I was getting closer all the time but I could not get there. This year, and all the years leading up to this year, have been full of the work of self discovery. What makes this year different is that I have some of the pieces that were missing that I did not even know existed.

For example, I got evaluated for ADHD this summer. I had been made aware of the possibility that I may have it by my new therapist. She suggested it one day as I rambled on and cried about how I couldn’t find my checkbook that I needed to pay my tax preparer. Of course not being able to find my checkbook meant that I had to search the house, which meant that I had to go through every other random thing in the house that I piled away, procrastinated about, or ignored. The shame spiral began and the overwhelm triggered the end of the world catastrophizing she was witnessing.

I laughed at the suggestion because I had no idea how ADHD presented in women and girls and I did not consider myself hyper-active, in fact I would sell my right kidney for an ounce of extra energy most days. The more I read, the more it fit me, and the more I was able to see a piece of me that was hidden all of these years.

The appointment to be evaluated would take a while, three months. While waiting I started to feel more anxious and also more at home in myself than ever before. I was reading and learning more about ADHD and it was explaining some of the things that I had felt shame for all of my life. Turns out there was a reason I was always late. I had time blindness. Turns out being organized is very difficult for me. Turns out that hyper-focusing on things for a bit and then totally losing interest is normal in an ADHD brain. Turns out that even feeling a disproportionate amount of shame around normal human mistakes is also part of ADHD.

No one, not one person around me would have described me as having ADHD as an adult. I have created systems for everything. I mask like a champion and I know that I have to work harder than most to appear put together. It is exhausting. Finding out that my brain lacks dopamine was a game changer. It changed how I looked at myself and at who I was and what I did.

I suddenly felt really proud of myself for doing so well all of this time at a disadvantage. I suddenly had an empathy for myself where self-loathing used to live. I suddenly realized that it was possible that life didn’t have to be as hard as it has been.

My son has a learning disability and I have done so much learning about how different brains can learn or how they be physically and physiologically built differently than what we consider the norm. I have spent years explaining to him that it’s not that he isn’t smart, it’s just that he is smart in non-socially accepted ways. His brain is actually a fascinating place to visit and gives him gifts of creativity and logic that others do not possess but he can feel less than because a standard test tells him that he is behind. My job has been to educate myself and him, and our family about just how wonderful he is and how smart his brain is even if it isn’t in a conventional way. I’ve never met anyone who works harder in a world not built for him.

The journey I have taken with my son prepared me to see myself in a very different light when I was suddenly the one with the different brain. I felt so proud of myself for figuring out how to do school in a world where girls weren’t looked at as possibly having ADHD, especially the inattentive type like I have. No one noticed that it was hard for me. No one spent hours taking me to testing, finding me a tutor, giving me pep talks or giving me a medication that may help me focus. No one taught me life hacks or explained brain chemistry to me. I just created systems to get through. I got pretty good at it. I even learned to cope with the constant jokes about me being messy or disorganized or late.

If I could go back in time and meet that little girl who struggled so much with no answers or help, I would scoop her up, look her in her face and tell her that she is brave. I would tell her that she is standing on two boxes and still can’t see over the fence but it isn’t her fault. I would tell her that there is nothing wrong with her, it’s just a little thing about her brain that works a little differently, and that it might even be a little gift sometimes to have a brain that isn’t like the others. I would tell her about the great things that she would accomplish in spite of all of this (let’s add in the fact that we over came a great amount of trauma as well). I’m fucking proud of her.

I never thought I was worth much. I thought I was broken, damaged goods. I really did. I didn’t want to feel that way. I wanted to believe what my church school told me all those years, that God loved me no matter what and that all people were worthy, but I never did. Not ever. I accepted less than I deserved all the time. When you feel worthless, you give to others what you wish you had because it feels like that is how it works. I don’t know how to explain it, but I know I lived it.

If there was a problem, it was probably my fault. If a relationship wasn’t working, I probably needed to give more, be more, do more. If I was unhappy, I was ungrateful for what I had. It never occurred to me that I deserved more from my partner. There was no standard, I snatched up breadcrumbs like a hungry duck, never ever thinking that I deserved a whole bakery. I really believed I was a mess, a broken mess and that I should be grateful to anyone willing to spend time with this hot mess express.

Well things are changing. I am changing. I’ve got new glasses and I cannot believe how I never saw my beautiful self before. Not beautiful as in pretty, I’ve felt pretty before, but beautiful like amazing. I see my amazingness. I see how beautiful my life is and I realize that I made this. I created this beautiful life. In spite of all of the challenges. My children are beautiful people and I did that. My house is full of love and laughter and tears and hard conversations and I did that. I have four spoiled rotten pets who all crash out on the couch next to me every night and I brought them here. I have a great job doing something that I love and I made that happen. I have recovery from being affected by the disease of addiction and I worked so hard for that. I have self-knowledge and self-love because I found therapist after therapist all these years and did ALL the work to arrive at this beautiful place.

I used to think that being divorced twice was proof that I was worthless, that I couldn’t make things work in life and love. Now I realize that I am so loved and so brave and so full of experience in the relationship department. The other day I got out all of the rings that men have given me and put them on just to have a visual reminder that several people have loved me enough to buy an expensive outward symbol to show me that love and commitment. It was silly at first but it did help me to realize that even if those relationships weren’t perfect or forever, they were real. I know that I worked heard in those relationships, so damn hard. Choosing to leave those relationships when the pain was too much was self-love. Choosing to open my heart and try again and again in the face of perceived failure, that was brave. I deserve all of the love and effort and support and affection I have poured into others all of these years. Even if I do not ever get if from a partner, I deserve to give it to myself.

I’ve just recently chosen to end a relationship and be alone. I realized that I was once again happily accepting breadcrumbs and breaking my own heart because I forgot I deserve the whole bakery. It is so hard to choose yourself when those old feelings of worthlessness still live in your cells. They whisper to you that you will never have what you dream about. They remind you that you have to work harder than others and accept anything back as good enough. I’ve once again decided that it is worth the risk to be alone. I have a lot to learn about the new me. The me that I am now seeing, that was hidden from me. The brave, loving, wonderful, patient, creative, and strong me that I couldn’t see is standing before me. I have a date with her. I want to take her to the doctor and see if I can get her the loving care and treatment that she has needed for so long. I want to take her out to do all of her favorite things. I want to spend time holding her while she cries about how hard this has all been, because it has been so hard. I want to sing to her, hold her tight, and I want to show her until she knows from her head to her toes that she is worthy. She always was.

The Middle Age

Middle age is so weird. It is bizarre. I don’t think it helps that I’m doing things against the system of our culture, but even if I weren’t, middle age is bonkers. I never gave one thought to middle age until I landed here. I thought about youth and being young, and I thought about being old and dying. To me it feels like pregnancy. Everyone talks about trying to get pregnant and announcing pregnancy and then talk turns to birth and after pregnancy but not much is talked about during those long nine months. The times that I was pregnant, I was so concerned about how long it took in the middle! It was a long and lonely stretch that was filled with so many personal challenges and adventure for me, but was mostly an inward journey, not something everyone else was interested in or a part of. I’m feeling this way right now in mid-life.

My life up until my early forties was a whirlwind. I look at that time in my life now and it exhausts me just thinking about it. College, house, marriage, child, traumatic divorce, work full time in my chosen career, more college, remarriage, more children, travel, leaving my chosen career to be a stay at home mom, death of my first spouse, therapy, Al-Anon, friendships, mom play dates, gain weight, lose weight, three different houses, go back to work, divorce number two, putting a child through college, etc. It was eventful to say the least. I could write a book for each thing I wrote and I have been the main character in all the stories. If I were to read those books, I would understand why that main character might want a break, a slowing down, a rest, a sinking into the middle age. The reality is that I’m really struggling and it is not a graceful transition.

My second marriage ended in a very mature, non-dramatic, and peaceful divorce. We knew we would be better apart and we wanted to be good parents and partners after we separated. The plans were made, the transitions happened and life went on. Our oldest was in college and youngest finishing elementary school. I stayed in the family home and he moved to a home within biking distance. We would share custody of the kids on a weekly basis. In the beginning, I felt a sense of excitement and freedom. I had whole weeks free, which hadn’t happened since before I had my first child. I stayed late at work, went out with friends, had dates, went shopping, or just watched television. It was new, it was weird, but it was exciting.

A few years have passed and I do enjoy my alone time, but the reality that I am missing out on seeing my children half of their time on earth has set in. That is tough and sometimes the ache for them is tremendous. I have the same ache for my oldest who is now a college graduate and who lives away from home full time. I knew that ache was coming because I have heard about empty nest syndrome for a while now, but having the double ache, I wasn’t prepared. It’s like trying to bandage a wound but every week, it is ripped open again. The twins are in middle school now and I can feel the shift toward their peers and I know that time with them will start slipping faster and I have tremendous grief over it. I don’t want to slow it or stop it, I’m just not sure how to grieve it. I’m feeling it as much as I can, but it does hit hard sometimes. I get resentful of things that take their time from me like travel soccer or track meets. I love watching them do what they love with their peers, but it puts me on the sidelines where I am a spectator of their life and not a participant. I was surprised by my feelings around that. I hear other parents talk about sports and things and they are so happy to do it, so glad to have their kids involved and busy, it makes me feel selfish and jaded that I get mad about how much time it takes from us. I know each year will take more and I’m going to have to deal with my feelings around that.

When I was very little, I was painfully shy. I was quiet and obedient. Somewhere along the line, I learned that in order to get attention, I had to be the opposite of that, so I became very outgoing and some might say rebellious. It’s always been a puzzle to me how I could have been both. I’m reading the book “Quiet: the power of introverts in a world that can’t stop talking” by Susan Cain right now. She talks about how being an extrovert is the prized quality in our society and how most people feel they need to strive to be an extrovert even if it is not their true nature to climb the social or career ladder. She talks about how we can get lost in that false identity until something happens that wakes us back up to the truth of who we are naturally. I can see now, that the pandemic was that for me. I never felt so much relief as when I didn’t have to be an extrovert any longer. I didn’t have to go out, I didn’t have to entertain, I didn’t have to say yes to invites, I didn’t have to do all the social stuff at work. I enjoyed the solitude of the shut down. It was such a relief to be told to stay home, to be told to cozy up in my house with my family, to stop socializing. Now that restrictions are lifted and those expectations are back, I’ve been really struggling. I’m lonely at times and I miss some of the dizzying busyness that was life pre-covid, but in my heart I know that it is just because I was in the stream of normal American life, extroverted busyness. It felt good to be considered normal and I knew what was expected of me. Even if it was exhausting, I was meeting expectations. Now I feel like I’m doing everything wrong. It feels right to me personally, but society casts doubt in my mind, and social media makes me feel weird and lacking. I want to be on my couch drinking coffee until 3 pm on a Saturday, not getting up at 6am to drive three hours to a soccer game that is over in one hour. I want to go out to dinner with one or two people and have deep conversations instead of meeting 15 people at the bar to drink and get wild. I want to clean my house just so I can sit on the couch and enjoy it being clean, rather than cleaning it up so I can invite people over to mess it up. I want to sit on my porch and watch the birds instead of attending the concert downtown with hundreds of others. I feel like a hermit. I’m lonely and I’m also very content and satisfied. The part that is lonely is that most people I know are in the pursuit of extroversion and seeking excitement outside of themselves. The hard part of being an introvert is that we are hard to meet. Even if we do meet another introvert out there in the world, we probably won’t know it because when we are “out there” we mask our introversion and become extroverts for the night. No one is going to tell you at a party that their ideal friend date would be knitting while watching a movie with someone. That is not an acceptable thing to say in the exciting world of extroverts.

I’m dating someone. We’ve actually been together for almost two years this July. Dating in middle age is also weird. When I was younger, I was looking for a partner to move in with, get married to, have children with and live happily ever after. Well I’ve done that, twice. Turns out that happily ever after is not as easy as it sounds. I have the home, I have the career, I have the kids, I have a life. I don’t need a partner for all of that (except a great co-parent which I have). Turns out, you can go it alone. When I first started dating again, I needed to know that I was alive, attractive, and that I was wanted. Turns out, all were true. Online dating is a story for another time, but I did meet with and connect with people on there. This is were I met my person. We started talking and met up in person shortly after. We connected in a deep way very early on and wanted to keep seeing each other. So we did and we do. He lives about 2 1/2 hours from me. We have houses, jobs, friends, and lives outside of each other. We come together when we can and we are apart when we can’t. It is very difficult to have a relationship that is so out of the norm. It generally works for us, but it doesn’t look like what I was taught was the way it worked (house, marriage, kids, together forever in the same home). We just spent a week together after being apart for over a month and a half. It was weird, wonderful, difficult, and lovely. We know that is is not normal and we sometimes laugh about it and we sometimes are sad about it. I don’t have a road map for this kind of relationship. I don’t know anyone doing it like this. So many times I feel lost, weird, and confused about it all. Do I want to see him more because that is what I’m supposed to want? Do I want us to live closer or together because that is what I’m supposed to want or is it just easier, would it take less effort? Do I need someone to be there with me to live with and have a shared life of spending everyday together or do I want my own space and time? Is it even okay to want that as a middle aged woman? Isn’t the goal to find your person? If that isn’t my goal, what am I even doing? What I do know is that I am loved by him. I know that I love him well. I know that we have a reciprocal relationship that works for us, for now. Dating at 45 is weird, and I chose to do it in the weirdest way as far as society goes. It would be easier to do it more traditionally but I don’t think it would be what I need right now.

I’ve never felt more me and also my body has never felt more foreign to me. I was looking for pictures for this post and realized that I have stopped taking glamorous selfies of myself. Back just a few years ago, I was always snapping pics of me when I thought I was having a good hair day or felt cute. I don’t feel that way anymore. I cannot remember the last time I looked in the mirror and thought, damn she’s cute or that is a banging outfit. I didn’t realize I was at this point until today. I opened this blog and realized that I looked nothing like the pictures I had originally posted. My hair is short, thick, and going gray. My face is much less slender and I often do not wear makeup. My clothes are functional but I do not wear them to show off my body, more likely that I’m hiding it behind something big and boring. You will rarely catch me wearing high heels and will now find me in supportive shoes that help my sore feet. I used to love wearing shorts and dresses in summer but now I don’t like to wear shorts (they get swallowed up by my thighs) and dresses require shorts underneath (for the thigh rubbing) and don’t feel sexy or free anymore. Tank tops show my large arms and rolls of skin spilling over my bra in all places. Pulling my hair back is necessary for the internal temperature that is almost never below very hot in my body, but It makes my very round face feel like a bobblehead. Jeans are a cruel device no longer made for my comfort but made to stretch over my legs and hips only to require a belt at the top (which thanks to high rise trends is now just below my boobs-not where a belt belongs). Shirts are shorter, shorts are beyond short, sweat pants are thicker and warmer (did I mention I’m always hot?), and my favorite way to hide my body- the hooded sweatshirt, started being cropped. The clothes aside, I don’t know how to do this middle age body business. I decided to stop fighting the losing battle of gray hair and now I don’t know who I am when I see myself. Light hair?! I’ve never had light hair. Not to mention it is now curly after three kids, and as thick as ever. I don’t know, I just don’t know. What I do know is that either society has conditioned me to feel bad about this stage of my physical appearance or I’m really not putting for the effort needed but I kind of don’t want to. I spent my life depending on the male gaze, to be validated for my looks, to be complimented on my hair or my clothes, and feeling like an old gray haired-witch that lives in the woods and wears robes, feels a little freeing. Sigh. Middle age body image and beauty standards are difficult.

All of this was a very long way of saying that I have no idea what I am doing or who I am. I’m not sure what I want, how I feel, or how I want to be. The only thing I can do is show up each day and get through. I can reflect on how doing certain things makes me feel and then decide if I continue to do them or not. I can look in the mirror and accept the person looking back or decide to make changes. It’s really personal and lonely. Kind of like those nine months of pregnancy when your whole body and your whole mindset, and your whole being changes, but everyone just wants to know what the end will be. I’m in the middle. I have no idea. It is strange and wonderful, and beautiful and so hard. If you are on the journey of middle age-”hi”-glad you are here, and we could chat about it or just knit on the couch and watch a movie. If you are young, be nice to middle agers, this is a strange time. If you are older, help please!! Tell me I won’t be a raging inferno of heat and insecurity forever!!

The Disappointing Mother

I laid in the sun on my deck today. I was listening to Brene Brown and Glennon Doyle talk on Brene’s podcast Unlocking Us. Glennon was talking about her book Untamed. I have read the book several times and plan to order the workbook when it comes out. It is a beautiful book that helped me be brave this year.

This year I decided that I was going to untame myself. What does that mean? It means that I decided to listen to the wild part of me that knew there was more to life than I was living. It means that I was no longer going to do what all of my training in life had led me to believe was the right thing to do.

I decided to disappoint everyone in my life to honor myself and my knowing. My marriage was over. I had to move on. I could not live in it anymore. I was going to break up my family, disappoint my children and our extended family and friends who thought that we were all so good.

Glennon touches on so many things in untamed that resonated with me. When I first read the book, I was still denying my knowing. I was trying so hard to fit into the box I had outgrown and I wasn’t ready to give up. I felt the knowing that I couldn’t stay but I wanted it to be wrong. I had a good life. If anyone were to look at me, at my family, they would say “How could she be unhappy, how could she want more?”.

My training on how to be a woman and how to be a mother told me to shove that restlessness, unhappiness down and to be grateful. My training told me to swallow my wants and needs for the comfort of my children and family. So I swallowed and swallowed and I suffered. At one point in Glennon’s book, she talks about rationalizing that she was staying in her marriage for her children, but that she wouldn’t want her marriage for her children. I felt that so deep in my heart. I wanted to show my children that their needs are important even if they don’t make sense to the outside world or their partner.

At some point in Untamed, Glennon says that she had to learn to disappoint everyone else before she would ever disappoint herself again, and her words are guiding me through my life right now. I am making decisions everyday that disappoint other people because I am proving to myself that I will honor my own wants and needs first.

There are days that my old training makes me feel so guilty for breaking up my family and changing my children’s lives forever. Days when I try to convince myself that I should have just kept my knowing buried because I miss my kids and not seeing them everyday is hard. When I watch them pack their stuff to leave me for a week, I feel like a failure as a mother. I know it isn’t true, deep down, in the place of knowing, but I hear the whispers of my training as a woman telling me that a good mother would have just sucked it up for her kids to have a stable home.

I tell myself often that I am teaching them to be true to themselves and to choose what is best for them, no matter how it disappoints others. I am teaching them that. They are watching me navigate my life, like I always have, bravely, wildly, and always knowing that there is so much out there for me that is beyond my wildest dreams if I am willing to follow my heart.

On mother’s day I am giving myself permission to disappoint others. I am giving myself permission to be wild and to untame myself from the training I have endured that taught me that to mother is to be a martyr. I am embracing whole-hearted, brave, honest living and I hope my children are watching me. I hope they notice my smile, my lightness, my frequent laughter and dance parties. I hope they see that honoring yourself allows your spirit to soar and frees others around you to soar too.

In a year when I have disappointed many, I am proud to say that I did not disappoint myself. I may have scared the heck out of myself, but I’ve also gained a reverence for my bravery. Glennon says that “a woman becomes a responsible parent when she stops being an obedient daughter” and I’m glad to say I am a responsible parent-maybe a disappointing one, but certainly responsible.