Despite my attempts to get in shape, I no longer weigh myself.
I know I’ve gained a little bit of weight since I moved and attempted to adjust to a new time zone and schedule and gym, etc, but I don’t worry about how much. Instead, I focus on making little changes here and there to ensure that I’m staying healthy. Packing lunches, working out, etc.
I used to weigh myself every single morning. My day would be made by what that number said. That was the first six months of my weight loss journey. Every morning, that number. But I realized that I was letting that number define me instead of my progress. My pants were smaller, my face was thinner. I had more energy. My back no longer hurt. I don’t get migraines as often anymore. Why did that number mean more than all of those things? So, I stopped weighing myself and focused on building a healthy body in a way that still promoted body positivity for my daughters.
I believe in health, not thin, or “fat positive,” as I keep seeing on Tumblr. I think we as women need to buck society’s image of beauty, as it is skewed on both sides. Being morbidly obese or too thin is not good for you. We need to stop focusing on those numbers and focus on the healthiest body type for us. When I started going to crossfit, I wanted to work to be thinner. After a few months, I realized that wasn’t what I wanted; I wanted my aesthetic to be strong. I like the feeling of knowing I was stronger than I ever thought I could be. When I finish something that a year ago, I wouldn’t have been able to do, I feel very proud and I love that feeling and I like working towards that feeling of accomplishment. But I’ve also learned that strong =/= thin. I had to change my thinking. So, if my thighs are bigger, or my arms not quite lithe, that’s okay. I will never be the fashion industry definition of “thin.” But, I will be healthy and strong and a good role model for my daughters, as I’m not just embracing my body, I’m loving it enough to put good food into it (most of the time) and work on it to keep it running so I’ll be a part of their lives for a long time.
Which is why I ditched the scale. That number was hindering my progress. I was letting it define me instead of why I started working out in the first place; to build my self esteem and like myself better. If that number was hindering my progress, and becoming the source of my self worth. I’ve long made it clear that only I determine my self worth, not my friends, my boyfriend, or a number on a scale. Me. So, I decided that I didn’t care. I’d just keep on doing what I wanted to do in order to feel stronger and be healthier and that scale could just gather dust. As long as I’m happy in my own skin, that’s all that I need.
I’ve started to realize that when you’re in love with someone, there are various types of love.
There’s the super giddy, romantic, “Oh my God you are so incredibly perfect,” love. There is the super sad “I miss you so very much” love. There is the unconditional love that comes from realizing your lover isn’t perfect but you embrace their flaws. There is the friendship love that comes before you are in love, and now I’ve discovered a new one;
The “I like living my life with you” love.
It’s no secret that I don’t do relationships well. Or commitment. Or love. Or anything involving feelings. I hate feelings. They’re dumb. They make me anxious. They freak me out. Just the mere mention of marriage makes my teeth clench up a little bit. However, I’ve realized that I’ve always skipped steps in relationships & I don’t want to skip them anymore. I want to enjoy every single phase of my life with this person & let things evolve organically.
Previously, my relationships were fast paced. I was engaged after three weeks. We didn’t live together before the wedding, but we worked together and he was at my house pretty much every waking second except to sleep…and all we did was fight. Or I cried about the fighting. So, I always equated that part of a relationship where the honeymoon stage ends and you just get comfortable as “omg he’s losing interest, he doesn’t love me anymore because we’re not all lovey dovey and pukey and what is wrong?” Or “Dear God, what happens if we get in a fight? It’ll get violent or ugly or he’ll leave!” I was terrified for the chaos, the fighting, the violence. The only love I’ve known was chaotic, except for the person I am with now. I didn’t know how to effectively convey that I was afraid of that and I had never been in a relationship that just progresses when we are ready and not because it was essential. My friends at the time were all fast movers when it comes to love, so they too had skewed views of relationships. The questions of “it’s been six months, have you had the talk about where this is going?” This exacerbated my fears of what marriage represents to me, which is fighting and anger and a loss of identity. My married friends tell me that the right person will fix all of these things. But why do they need fixing? I feel like the right person gets that the piece of paper just freaks be out. I don’t want to talk about it, I want to live life until we’re ready to make a change. And my love should mean more than a piece of paper that signifies commitment. Does that really make me selfish?
Anywho, I’m rambling on. Let me get back to my point.
Over the last couple of days, I’ve spent time with my partner doing domestic-type stuff. We bought a table from Ikea for my home & put it together. He drove me to the gym. We spent a good hour laying in each other’s arms not talking, just enjoying that moment. I enjoyed it immensely, but it helped me realize something very important; that I finally understand that comfortable “I’m in love with you, but I genuinely just enjoy your company,” kind of love.
I am crazy about my significant other. There is no one else I would rather be with. He is smart, he’s funny, he doesn’t find my random bouts of panic or crazy frustrating, he thinks they are just a part of who I am. He’s loving and kind. He listens when I talk. He’s affectionate. He knows how I think. He respects my boundaries and understands that my fears when it comes to love are very real and he’s patient enough to walk through them with me. But I have no desire to marry him. I have no desire to change any aspect of this right now. I love right now. Right now is wonderful. We are building our respective careers. I am adjusting (sometimes very poorly) to my new province. I want to work on my portfolio and learn to drive & have built a successful career at my day job. I like that I get my space to do my own thing sometimes. But I no longer fear the “this is good, let’s stay here.” I like here. I like that here will progress when we are ready to move from here and it’s okay that I have no idea when that will be. Truthfully, I don’t want to know, I don’t really think about it, I want to be just as surprised as you are. I like random days of nothing. I like that we don’t talk every day, but when we do we pick up the conversation right where we left off. I like that we can talk about everything from our careers to our deepest thoughts, or laugh about stupid things.
❤️
But mostly, I like that I’m not afraid.
For the first time in my romantic history, I am not afraid. I cannot promise that this will continue forever, or even until next week, but in this exact moment, I am not afraid. I am not afraid of the future, because I know who I’ll be with. I’m not afraid of the present because it’s a really lovely present. I’m not afraid of the past because I know things are very different now, not just with him, but with me. I was afraid, but when I was overwhelmed with my life & terrified that he’d leave, I turned to him & he listened & helped me feel loved & for the first time in my romantic life, I feel safe. I understand that men resent this label, but I think it would be the best thing. I feel secure with this person. He builds me up. Celebrates my accomplishments, from fitness (even though he thinks Crossfit is dumb) to my career. He helps make me the woman I want to be. And I’m really happy with him. And because I am happy, I want to enjoy being happy. I don’t need to change anything. Not every moment needs to lead to something deeper. Sometimes it’s just a good day or a great conversation.
You can love someone very much, you can know you belong with them, but also not be ready for the end result. I always thought there was something so wrong with that, but now I know there isn’t. I know who I should spend my life with, but that doesn’t mean that has to start right now. Right now, I just want right now. I don’t just love my boyfriend; I like him. I like his company. I like talking to him about mundane, day to day things. I like joking with him. I like that I can tell him anything & vice versa. I like all the coupley stuff we do. But I learned that not every relationship needs to be a whirlwind. Sometimes it can just be a gentle breeze that guides you along, and that suits me just fine.
I never thought I’d see the day when I would defend Kim Kardashian West, but here we are.
Yesterday, Kim Kardashian West posted on her personal website a statement that is taboo, unheard of, and something no mom should ever say;
She hates being pregnant.
Mainstream media outlets picked up on it & suddenly, every mom from here to Palookaville was calling Kardashian West every name in the book.
Some of the amazing comments included;
“Oh she is such a self centered twit. She complained about not being able to conceive now she is saying being pregnant is the worst experience of her life? Do us a favor and just shut up.”
“and honey….pregnancy doesn’t look good on you either….win, win! shut your pie-hole and just give birth already! I can’t believe you have 2 1/2 more months to go, you look like beached whale, boom!”
“Can you imagine the amount of women out there not being able to get pregnant and having to read something so outrageous!?!?!? Do you know how many people would LOVE to be able to get pregnant? Become a mom? Apparently, this means no biggie for Mrs. Kardashian-West. Hope and pray your children don’t feel any remorse toward you for making such horrific statement!”
These were just some of the amazing comments that people made because a pregnant woman said she hated being pregnant. How dare she?! She had fertility struggles! She should be grateful!
Wait. Nowhere did she say she wasn’t grateful for her daughter North or her unborn son. In fact, she said they were worth all of it, but being pregnant just sucks. Kardashian West has made no secret of her struggles. During her first pregnancy she suffered from preeclampsia. She had several surgeries to correct issues with her uterus before she could conceive her son. Her pregnancy weight gain is mocked by literally every human being on the planet. I can see why she hates it.
Here’s a secret about me; I too hated being pregnant. Every second of it. From the time I peed on the stick until the first cry, I hated being pregnant. I had two high risk pregnancies & one uneventful one. I had Hypermesis Gravidium with all three. Sciatica. I gained tons of weight. My one uneventful pregnancy went 11 days overdue. My hair fell out. I looked like death all of the time. Being pregnant sucked.
Miscarriage, infertility & infant loss are all terrible things, but women need to stop denying women their right to their honest feelings about their personal journey because theirs is different. I lost my father at a very young age. Imagine if I told my friends growing up that they were so ungrateful because they were angry at their fathers because mine was dead? Same idea. Women are competing with each other about everything. Who’s pregnancy was more magical, who lasted longer in childbirth without drugs. Who makes the most adorable organic snacks in Pinterest. Who loves their kids the most. Please do shut up.
Kim Kardashian West hates being pregnant. I hated it too. I hated it so much that even the thought of having another kid makes me kind of dry heave because I couldn’t imagine putting my body through the emotional highs & lows, the weight gain, the pain, the time off work, the fear of going back on bed rest, etc. My best friend struggled with infertility & also hated being pregnant. That doesn’t make her ungrateful, it makes her honest. Perhaps Kim Kardashian West’s candid confession will allow some woman, who is reading her mommy board & how everyone feels so feminine & sexy & empowered while she feels like a fat slug who pukes a lot & can say “omg me too.” And suddenly she won’t feel like a bad mom, because it’s okay to not like the process.
I would much rather read Ms. Kardashian West’s blunt honesty than the normal celebrity garbage that is designed to shame moms, like the time Gisele Bundchen said labour didn’t hurt & women who don’t breastfeed don’t love their babies & need to go to jail. Being a mom & carrying a child is hard enough. Stop shaming women for their honest feelings about pregnancy & childbirth. More moms need to build each other up, not make it a pissing contest over who felt more like an Earth fairy & held off the epidural longest. Drug free birth or lack of morning sickness doesn’t make you a better mother. Your commitment to your child does. Seeing as most of us have not met Kim Kardashian West or her daughter North, we don’t know what kind of parent she is. Don’t make judgements based on one comment.
I’ve criticized the Kardashian crew in the past, but this was just wrong. Bashing a pregnant woman is wrong. If you can’t relate to her feelings, then be quiet. Her feelings are still hers, and still valid.
After the week of suck, I’ve done something I haven’t done in a long time;
I broke down.
There was an attempted robbery at work. My teenage daughter is so resentful of her dad’s lack of interest in her life that she has decided she never wants to talk to him again & won’t pick up if he calls anymore. My hip has been injured so I’ve been hurting. My youngest has been ill and I had to ask my eldest to leave school early to watch her until I got home. By the end of my shift, I was just miserable. I ended up crying all night, feeling isolated and alone. I felt like I’m alone in the universe, with no real friends here. For years, I’ve handled everything on my own like some kind of warrior, and every one tells me how I’m so strong. I didn’t want to be strong anymore. I just wanted someone to shoulder a part of the load with me.
I cried all night. I cried all morning. I just didn’t want to be homesick or alone anymore. I didn’t want to be the single mom who handles all the decisions. I didn’t want to go to work. I didn’t even want to be a parent for an hour, because I don’t get the luxury of being a parent when I want women to think I’m sensitive or because my parents ask where my kids are. I was literally broken.
But I learned I wasn’t really alone. My best friend Melissa texted me until very late her time trying to help me feel better. My other best friend Erica, my Texan PIC called me from the road enroute to Dallas for surgery to check in. And my wonderful boyfriend sat on the phone with me for an hour, despite being sick as 100 dogs to remind me that he loves me, he is right here in the city and he will do his best to make this easier. My mommy message board told me how hard I was trying. My oldest friend Gleason offered encouragement & Damanda offered to book my flight home hahaha.
Suddenly, I realized that while I am far away from most people, I’m not really “alone.” I have the best friends in the world who are still right by my side even though they are a zillion miles away. I have friends I’ve never physically met who are always there. I have a loving & gentle man who always knows how to deal with my bouts of lunacy in a way that makes me feel safe & loved. He protects me by reminding me that I can do anything, but on days when life beats me down, he’ll be there to help me back up. I am a very fortunate person. And that helped remind me that while it can be a hard road, I’m the only role model for these three girls. I’m their only parent, their lifeline. I’ve gotta get up & put on pants & kick the world’s ass until I’m the most amazing MHC I can be. So I did.
I may be weathering the storm alone sometimes, but I’m certainly not alone in the trenches. My people are right there with me, whether it’s to calm my addled mind or to tell me I’m the effing sun, like we’re Dr. Meredith Grey & Dr. Cristina Yang, I’ll never really be alone as long as they are there.
Over the last few months, I’ve gone through a plethora of emotions ranging from euphoric to miserable. This past week has just been beyond stupid. I’ve considered closing my blog because I wasn’t comfortable writing about my feelings & I sometimes wonder if I’m using my writing because I’m rather lonely out here in Cow Province & I miss regular chats with friends back home. I had this grand vision that I would get out here & my editor would love my work, I’d land a full time gig & my new gym would be as awesome as my old gym & everything would be perfect.
Yeah, nope.
Instead I’ve been miserable at my gym, hating my job & trying to overcome years of mistrust in a day. So, I’m homesick & sometimes contemplate just moving home in the spring (my friend Damanda is sending a U-Haul). But, I realize I’m not giving myself any time to adjust to anything. Like, at all.
I’m such an ambitious little creature, that I assume it’ll be easy to adjust when most people say it takes a year to adjust to a new community. I get better at trusting people, but it’s a process & I can’t rush that process. I’ll warm up to the gym, it’ll take time. There are some cool people & some not cool people. But I’ll get used to it. It’ll never be as awesome as my old gym, but still good. My new job isn’t journalism, but again, new audience, it’s a process.
I keep trying to rush to get to the part where this feels like home, but it’s gonna take time. The difference is I’m going to allow myself that time to get used to how things are done here. If you’ve ever switched provinces/states, you’ll understand. Some days it just feels weird. And I just want to fit in with the cow people (maybe I should stop calling them cow people). But I realize it’s not as easy for some people. And I’ve got to allow myself time to get used to my life here. It’s okay to feel homesick. It’s okay to feel lonely. It’s okay to miss my gym & my friends & DECENT DAMN PIZZA. WHY IS THERE NO GOOD PIZZA?! But I kept trying to think it was wrong to go through periods of sadness. My birthday was a great day, but I’ve been lonely ever since. It was the first year it wasn’t a clusterfuck, which was nice. But it was also the first year I didn’t have belated drinks with Melissa, or dinner with Rena & Damanda. And it was just kind of sad. And over the past few days, as things have been sucky, I realized how much I missed having nearby friends who could watch the older kids while I took the littlest to the Voodoo Witch Doctor, as she’s allergic to every medication ever made, or Bree hugs. Or the fact that people here call shopping carts baskets. NO. THEY ARE SHOPPING CARTS. But I didn’t want to adjust to the culture shock. I wanted to be awesome. Now, I’m going to focus on making Cow Province my home…& maybe stop calling it Cow Province.
***However, I have only seen geese once, so good job Cow Province****
Same with everything else, I need to give myself time to open up, time to build trust, time to get comfortable. And it’s okay to want to do that slowly. It’s okay to not want to rush. It’s okay to have moments of doubt or fear. All of these things are fine. People who love me understand why I’m a bit batty & love me anyway. They get it & will let me muddle through on my own until I get to a place where I can fully trust people the way I want to. But it takes time.
The good thing about time is we have a lot of it. Every day is another day to make awesome. So, that’s what I will do. Make tomorrow awesome. And the next day. And the next. But the only way to make this place home is to work on it. So, I’m going to put up curtains, pictures & BUY A DAMN KITCHEN TABLE NEXT WEEK. I’m very excited about my table. And each day I wake up I’ll feel better & better about living here, until one day, it’s home. And everything else will come in time, so I won’t rush the process anymore.
A lot of times, when I write about my life, I get weirded out.
There are always valid reasons for my weirded out-ness, such as “I hate talking about myself in a way that makes me feel vulnerable.” There is the “people I know read this shit & will text me about it or they’ll think I’m totes crazy.” I also feel like I spend a ridiculous amount of time writing lately because I am fretfully lonely for my Windsor/Sarnia/London friends. I’ve made some rad friends here so far, but I find myself missing home, so I use my blog as sort of a security blanket. This brings about the concern that people would rather read about me than engage in conversation or stay connected to me, like I’m some sort of zoo animal. Yes, I analyze literally everything.
I have a point, I promise.
I’ve decided that since I’m just going to keep using my one outlet as my way of feeling less isolated from almost everything that I love, I may as well use it to be a better person. So, I’m being more open about all the things that make me less than perfect MHC. Why? Because I want to be a better person. I want to be some kind of hybrid of the person I am and the person I was before. Still bad ass, but nicer. I really feel like the whole purpose to being alive is to grow and evolve and be kinder and gentler to our fellow man, etc.
Anywho, I wrote a whole bunch of stuff about why I suck at trusting people. I guess that was the first step to me actually being able to do it. But again, I felt weird because people I know read this crap. People I love. People who mean a great deal to me. And my mother (waves to my mother). I don’t want the people I love most to read about my thoughts on my blog. I want them to talk to me (although my good friend Gleason thinks it might be good for people to read my weird thoughts, it’ll help them understand my mind better and therefore make those relationships stronger). I don’t want them to think that I don’t trust them or that they need to coddle me or make me feel secure, because I don’t want that. I honestly just write stuff because I feel happy when I write stuff! When anything bothers me in the slightest, I write about it & feel better! It’s like an extension of who I am as a person or something. Also, people I do not care for in the slightest read my blog (waves to ex husband) & I don’t want them to make my attempts to grow & become a more confident person fuel their narcissism. I began to worry. People I know read this. People I care about read this. I do not want people I care about to get upset that I am writing about my life in great detail because I’m lonely and homesick and I write about stuff to fill the void. Instead, I got texts from my friends, who said they could relate. They feel the same way sometimes. They struggle with trusting people. They’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. They just didn’t know how to tell people without feeling crazy. Suddenly, I felt very sane. Which was nice. Thank you, fellow crazy people for helping me feel united in our crazy.
But I guess the best feedback I got was from my friend Gleason. He basically told me how I’m always putting the needs of my daughters, my friends, my lover, my mother over my own and it’s perfectly okay to feel insecure or like all the things that went wrong before will again. But I’m very lucky to have the ability to be self aware enough to start to fix the things about my personality I want to improve upon without it destroying my life in the process. So, I should be proud of myself for having a talent that makes others think and want to improve. And I can appreciate how fortunate I am to have an amazing family, a loving boyfriend and great friends and find happiness on days where there are none. By being able to see all of the wonderful things I have helps me continue to be positive when things aren’t and he’s lucky to have me as a friend. All of these things are totally rad.
So, thanks fellow crazy people for reading my blog & telling me that I’m not crazy. Pretty sure I am, but I’m pretty sure that’s okay. Because even though I go through periods of loneliness or rejection (by newspapers), that’s all part of life & I can turn all of those things into positives to improve who I am. Yay!
And if all else fails, I provide y’all with entertainment.
Also here is this penguin. You literally cannot be sad while looking at a penguin
It’s time for me to admit something about who I am as a person in the hopes that admitting it will help me grow from it. I don’t like admitting that I have flaws, or that I’m anything less than the most bad ass person on the planet. But if one of my best friends can be open about his bipolar diagnosis & work to recover, then I can accept my flaws.
Ladies & gentlemen, I am a very damaged person & I have trust issues.
I trust exactly four people in this world. Everyone else, I try, but I struggle. I refuse to blame my past relationship failures because then I’m giving them the power to continue to hurt me & I choose my destiny, not the things that went wrong. It’s something I need to work on & I don’t actually know how.
I build my life & I get to a point where I’m happy, really happy. The past few weeks have been awesome. I’m getting back into my gym groove. The kids love school. My eldest is taking her grades seriously & seeing results. I’ve accepted a new job that is a lot like my Target job. I’m excited because my bank account should be back where I was last year, where I don’t have to constantly tell the girls “I’m sorry, we can’t afford it.” My birthday was incredibly lovely & I’ve never been happier or more content in my relationship.
But I’ll admit it’s hard when some of my best friends at home text once a week and ask if he’s left yet, because they’ve got their “I told you so” all ready. It chips away at the fragile trust I build in anyone & suddenly I question everything & my mind starts thinking;
Why did you hire me? Are you really going to promote me if I’m good, or are you going to wait six months & then the company will close.
Why do you keep saying you love me & you’re here for good? We both know you’re lying. Please just go & get it over with, but please don’t actually go.
Why are you my friend if you seem to delight in my potential misery? Why can’t you be happy for me?
I refuse to blame the marriage. I refuse to blame what happened before. This is me. But how do you tell someone that while you feel completely safe & at ease with them, they make you extremely happy & you trust them as much as you can, btw I still worry you’re going to walk out on me the minute I’m not the most understanding or nicest person alive. Can you please have enough patience to give me time & understanding & let me go two steps forward & one step back while I figure out how to navigate sharing my life with you. How do you tell friends you don’t invite them into the more personal parts of your life because you don’t trust them to be happy for you. You’ll just hurt their feelings.
Erica always tells me it’s normal to feel this way, after all, trauma doesn’t go away because you’ve come to terms with it. But no one wants someone that’s damaged & has baggage & doesn’t really know how to be happy without wondering when it’s all going to go to Hell, even though we all have baggage. So, I need to come to terms with my own insecurities about my job, my parenting, my life, my relationships so I can rebuild the trusting part of me that I lost over the years.
So, I started to do just that. I focused on meditation & yoga, also to heal a strained hip flexor that has plagued me for a week. I compiled a list of all the things that scare me about being with someone. Then I laughed at it because 99% of it was ridiculous. I reminded myself that I may not trust everyone, but I trust the right people. My closest friends love & respect me. My boyfriend absolutely loves me & understands how I got this way & will let me figure it out, but wants to help me get there. He isn’t going to leave me because he loves me, crazy and all. And my own gut instincts tell me I am fine. My life is beautiful. My new job will be successful & my writing career will continue to flourish & once my hip stops throbbing, I’ll continue to focus on health & be a bad ass MHC.
But the thing is that we always expect someone to fix us, make us better, etc. But I don’t want that. I want to make me better. I want to be comfortable with trusting people for myself, not for my friends or my boyfriend or whomever. So, it’s a struggle sometimes. But I guess admitting it is the first step to moving forward. And the best way to learn if you can trust someone is to trust them, and every day I get better. There will be moments of doubt or whatever, but the more time I put in with someone, the more the doubt will go away.
So, I’ll keep doing what I do; focus on my happiness & making my family & partner happy. And trolling Erica about baseball. And Crossfit. And making every day the raddest day.
I’ve struggled to talk about this with anyone but my best friend Melissa & friend Paul, and Erica, but she knows everything all of the time. It’s been a source of great guilt for me, but I guess I’m sharing it because I wonder if other moms have been in this boat.
Last week, I made a very important decision about facilitating a relationship between my kids & their dad; I’m going to stop trying.
When we moved out here, I tried to make it easier. I called with updates, sent photos, and offered to cover the entire cost of travel for him to visit his kids for Xmas. I also told him if he wanted to move closer (as he is currently unemployed) & take a job here, he wouldn’t have to pay child support & we could split custody, where he could have them most weekends (as they are at the age where they want slumber parties with friends, etc) & I could have them during the week. He said he’d think about it.
Meanwhile, the excuses started coming. Already he couldn’t afford to come for Xmas, as he wasn’t working or if he got a job, he wouldn’t be allowed any time off to see them. As flights are already filling up for holiday travel, I started texting, asking when he wanted to fly out, so I could book it. No reply. Second reminder. No reply. More excuses to the girls as there was just no money for him to come, maybe March Break. Or next summer. But not Xmas. That’s when I realized, no matter how easy I make it, he just doesn’t want to see them. He doesn’t care enough to be a dad.
So, I wondered if by pushing the girls to call, to continue to facilitate a relationship that he’s made it clear doesn’t matter, am I hurting my children? After all, they get hurt when Dad doesn’t bother to call or visit. When we lived in the same city, every visit ended early. When I let him take them for March Break, he brought them home on Wednesday, because he was too busy. When they spent the summer with his mom, he rarely saw them, instead spending time with a girl he was seeing & drinking (according to my eldest). He doesn’t care to make that effort, so why should I? Why am I saving money for him to come here & see the kids when he can’t even tell me what day he wants to come?
I find myself offering him mental health support, which I did again this week, and for what? To be on the receiving end of his rage when I ask him once again to be a parent or tell me when he wants to come see his girls on my dime? Why do I keep trying to help this person? So my kids can have a dad? Shouldn’t that be his job? Shouldn’t he be making his kids his number one priority? Maybe my constant attempts to remind him to be a dad are hindering him from wanting to make his own efforts to be a parent.
So, the flight I was going to pay for, I offered to his mom for March Break. I’m not sending any more photos or updates unless he asks me for them. I’m not going to ask the girls to call unless they choose to. I can’t keep trying to force someone to do what they can’t be bothered to do; which is be a parent. He doesn’t want to be a parent, so I’m not going to try to make him into one. It’s sad because I have friends who just want to coparent and spend as much time with their kids as possible & he won’t even come see them when it’s free for him to do so.
But I’m done trying. It’s up to him to be a parent now. Maybe he’ll step up & be the kind of parent my kids deserve, calling every day & asking about school, life. Maybe he’ll save up to visit & spend all his time with them. Maybe when they fly to visit family next year, he will devote all of his time to his children. But if not, it’ll be on him.
As for me, I’ll feel guilty, because that’s who I am. But I won’t keep trying to be nice & include someone who doesn’t want to be included & I will focus on raising strong women.
Shocking huh? This is my fourth job since the demise of my beloved Target. But I think this one may stick. The pay is better, benefits & more advancement opportunities for me. It’s not media, but it’ll do.
You’re probably wondering why I keep switching, but it’s because I have vowed to be the happiest girl in the world, like my homegirl Ruby Gloom. I’m also a sole support parent, so I need to always make sure that I’m doing my best for my girls. So, I need to continue to focus on ensuring I’m earning the most that I can for them. This requires making choices to ensure that I’m earning to my potential & my sanity is intact. My job asked me to travel more than I was able to & still support my family. I’m making just enough to live, but not enough to save for college, for vacations, etc. I need to make changes & now I’ll be happier.
I haven’t given up on the reason that I am here; writing full time. But that requires a few things, so I’ll work on those things while building my career at my new job. This isn’t the job I intend to spend my life at, but it’s a good experience builder for my future.
I think sometimes it’s easier to get frustrated about our job, especially when it’s not where we intend to spend the rest of their lives. But sometimes we lose sight of the fact that these steps, these jobs that we hate, are all steps towards the future we want. I’m building experience in two different fields & while I wasn’t happy at my most recent job, I learned things that I can apply to my new job & keep growing as a manager. Yes, time is tight & I have to keep juggling my life to make time for my girls & my partner & even myself. Finding time for the gym can be tedious but it needs to be done. Balancing time for the girls is a priority. And my partner & I find time to be together when we have it. Sometimes there isn’t much, but that quality time is just that. We make it count. We support each other’s career aspirations & share the vision for our future with our children. While right now, my current life requires a lot of time management, I know this is all for the greater good for my long term future.
Everything is temporary. This chapter in my life may seem hectic, but soon it’ll die down & I’ll be able to enjoy my downtime. But in order to get to that place, I’ve got to keep working towards my goals by putting in time & building experience.
Smile & think about how it all affects the greater good
I guess I just like to remind myself that everything leads to the good things I’ve got and the good things I will continue to gain. In order to build the future and family I want, I’ve gotta keep working & sacrifice some things in the short term to achieve the long term goals. Sometimes I can’t spend as much time with my partner as I would like, but I remind myself that we have our whole lives, so one night isn’t going to be the end of the world. We have other nights & when the time is right, we’ll have every night. I had to miss parent/teacher night, but I was there to play Barbie & watch movies & guess which one they’ll remember more.
I know a lot of people will tell me that the future isn’t guarenteed. It’s not; I could die tomorrow (except I promised Erica I would never die), my partner & I could split up tomorrow (although I doubt it). But why push myself to death because the future is promised to no one? That would mean I’d lose my patience for my life. Then all of a sudden I’m frustrated because things need to be rearranged, which leads to fighting & conflict & stress. I’d rather be able to understand that yes, I need to work, sometimes my partner can’t be there when I want him & that we can always make time another time, so that we can make that time count, whether it’s with my daughters or my mate.
So, I’ll keep being optimistic that the choices I’m making will boost my short term joy & build my long term happiness, enjoying each and every day of my wacky life.
I’m fortunate that I’m raising a mature & well rounded teen girl. She’s not concerned with gossip. She doesn’t waste days on social media. She likes boys & fashion & selfies & reality TV, but she’s not caught up in celebrity worship as much as her peers (except for Queen Taylor Swift).
I’m perfectly fine with my daughter loving Taylor Swift. She’s a good person who loves her friends and her fans. She promotes the concept of women building up other women. She responds to criticism with class and poise. She isn’t afraid to stand up for other artists. Taylor Swift is a fine role model for young women & I applaud her commitment to retaining her true personality despite her growing fame.
However, my daughter’s new school friend recently teased her (good naturedly) for her obsession with the E! Reality show Total Divas. She adores the Bella Twins (Brie & Nikki) and enjoys their adventures as they climb the mountain to become the most dominant Divas in WWE history (a feat they’ve accomplished as Brie is the only Diva to co-main event a PPV, and Nikki recently held the Divas Championship longer than any Diva in history). But her friends are more concerned with Keeping Up With the Kardashians, most notably, their “style icon and role model,” Kylie Jenner.
My daughter argues that her reality show is better, because Brie & Nikki Bella have an actual skill, whether their skill is respected by mainstream entertainment fans or not. Brie & Nikki can wrestle; they train to wrestle. Nikki has continued to compete through three separate injuries over the 301 days she was Divas champion. Brie & Nikki travel often, missing weddings, family functions, all in the name of entertainment. Brie most recently missed her first wedding anniversary because she was touring. My daughter often points out that Kylie has no discernible skill, nor do any of her sisters. They don’t have actual jobs, or a talent, or anything that makes them special, so why are we keeping up with them. But I overheard her friends this week telling her that Kylie Jenner is an icon & they should all aspire to be like her, get her signature pout & her relationship with rapper Tyga are “relationship goals.” All of this sort of makes me sad.
I don’t know Kylie Jenner. I’m sure she’s a very sweet girl. She’s quite pretty. If she is a wild child, it’s probably more due to a lack of adequate supervision from her parents, Kris & Caitlyn Jenner. But there are so many more interesting things for young girls to aspire to be than pretty with a full pout. There is so much more for young women to accomplish than dating a 25 year old man while underage and bikini selfies and launching an app with makeup tips. These girls are 13 and 14 years old. They can grow into women of distinction; they can change the world. Why are they limiting themselves by wanting to be more like a woman with no discernible talent & her only goal is to be pretty & desired by men? Is this how my parents felt when I was all about Madonna?
Girls, please don’t sell yourself short. If you must look up to someone famous, why not Hailee Stenfeld? This young lady was nominated for an Academy Award at the age of 14. She recently released her single “Love Myself,” which is quickly climbing the Billboard charts. The catchy song is an anthem for self love, reminding people that as long as she sees her worth, she doesn’t need anyone to validate her. What about Malala Yousafzai, who took on the Taliban, survived a gunshot wound & now advocates education for women in underdeveloped countries. Both of these young women are the same age as Miss Jenner & their messages are so much more positive. Love who you are, grow as a woman, seek knowledge. While neither may have Miss Jenner’s perfect pout, they have something so much more: goals & aspirations & a desire to make the world better.
Somewhere, did we as parents fail our children? We can blame the media for giving the Kardashian-Jenner clan attention, but we are responsible for their infamy. We comment on their articles, we download their games, much like the Simpsons Treehouse of Horror Episode, if you ignore them, they will die. We keep them alive with every retweet, click and comment.
But maybe it’s deeper. Maybe we as moms have failed our children by our own example. Why do our daughters aspire only to be pretty? They don’t learn from celebrities, they learn from us. We can blame Barbie, even Kylie Jenner, but we have to ask what kind of example are we setting? Do we acquiesce to our husbands? Did we abandon our goals? Do we focus too much on our own aesthetic so that out daughters see us fearing aging & obsessed with being “Cougars” because either we are single moms hoping to meet a mate or because we still want to feel sexy? There is nothing wrong with these things on the surface, know there are times I’m too caught up in my appearance, especially my weight & my weight loss journey & I need to be mindful of that for my daughters. But perhaps we need to use them as talking points, while aspiring to be more; professionally, personally. Perhaps we as moms need to start setting goals for ourselves to showcase that we as moms are strong, brave, smart and beautiful. Then perhaps our daughters will look up to us, admire us, and not Kylie Jenner. Because your daughter’s role model should be you, not the flavour of the week on TV. Maybe if we kept up with being the best version of ourselves, our kids could keep up with us, and not the Kardashians.
The Misadventures of MHC 