A disclaimer: These posts are going to be for me. I'm not considering an audience as I write these. But you are welcome here, and I hope, if you're in survival mode too, you can take something from my unearthing and sift through your own debris.
Is it motherhood that wears you thin? Like favorite pajamas. Comfortable but threadbare and see-through (and not in a good way).
Or is it just adulthood? I've read so many articles, blogs, books lately that seem to think it's motherhood.
Could be.
But I think it's adulthood. The ubiquitous combination of responsibilities that careen you into survival mode.
Survival mode. That's where I've been. Functioning. Just barely. Far, FAR from living.
Far from experiencing joy or even pain. Emotions, while trying to survive, are extraneous and inefficient.
I'm starting to sift through the layers of debris. Years of misleading and hurtful self-affirmations. I'm starting to remember what it means to be me: unique and -- I'll say it -- beautiful me.
Even writing that I'm beautiful creates a sense of repulsion in me. I've abhorred arrogance and inflated egos since I've noticed those attributes in others. So I made every attempt to not embody arrogance myself. I've gone the opposite direction, and instead, berated my physical appearance most of my life.
Carl Jung wrote, "Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to a better understanding of ourselves."
Funny thing is, I'm a first-born know-it-all. I still possess arrogance and pride but only in my opinions and knowledge. And no, I don't know any more useless information than the average know-it-all. I'm not a genius and usually, these days, I have a hard time holding a semi-coherent intellectual (or basic, everyday) conversation. Survival mode, I tell you.
Here's another Carl Jung quote for you: "What did you do as a child that made the hours pass like minutes? Herein lies the key to your earthly pursuits."
In trying to unearth who I actually am, I mean, in all reality, who I am absolutely meant to be without the barriers that I've created for myself, I'm going to try to remember who I knew I was as a girl.
What memories from my childhood evoke the strongest emotions in me?
-- Playing in the woods with Parker and Tyler, making up Civil War and Native American stories: Heartaching nostalgia for a past I never experienced.
-- Digging for buried treasure in a red dirt pile: Humming energy of possible discovery -- and absolute belief that we would find something.
-- Creating "rivers" in said red dirt pile: Learning/discovery while watching the way water found paths to the low ground
-- Drawing house plans and outfits: Concentration and desire. Knowledge of what I liked and who I wanted to become when I got older -- stylish with a beautiful home (usually with a portico in the center of the house). I desired these things not for the approval of others but for satisfaction in myself alone.
-- Writing stories in school (and being told I'm good at it): Satisfaction and pride in a completed story -- before I analyzed sentence structure and my audience and their approval ad nauseum
-- Feeding cows hay through the fence: affinity/kinship with animals and a desire to take care of them
-- Picking strawberries from Mama Jo and Paw Paw's garden: Wonder at the development of strawberries from small green to white to red
-- Playing in Mama Jo's basement -- discovering "antiques": Creating stories about how the "antiques" came to be there and the vast sums of money they were worth
-- Listening to family histories and stories with Grandma Amma and Jodie: I felt that it was my duty to listen and let them tell me their stories. I wanted them to experience the nostalgia of the past and have the satisfaction of having a young child/descendent listen.
-- Climbing magnolia tree: Freedom and awe at what my body could accomplish
-- Losing birthday balloon: Absolute, terrible loss of something that I was so proud to have in my possession. The balloon was proof that my father loved me.
-- Cutting the grass at Oak Grove: Quiet, uninterrupted daydreaming
-- Week at Rock Ridge camp: Still might be the worst week of my life. Complete knowledge that there were unseen, opposing forces at work in the world that would always try to convince me that my convictions were not right. Total darkness of thought and emotion.
-- When Emmaus was hit by lightning and burned: An intense awe of nature, the excitement of danger, and afterwards, a feeling of loss for the history and a sympathy for my grandparents at their loss.
-- Karate chopping Grandma Amma's old house down: Strength. Power. Knowledge that my body could do anything I wanted it to. (We didn't know the house was pretty much rotting away.)
I am thankful for: washing little boy and big boy clothes. I am thankful to have a big boy (Zeb) and a little boy (Finn) to wash clothes for. (Folding the clothes and putting them away is another story altogether.)
