I was that person who’d be quick to talk bad about someone for posting all of their “business” on social media.
“Why would anybody do that?” I’d ask.
But I understnow more than ever: because you feel you have no one else to talk to.
Because when you do talk about your feelings their invalidated.
Because people talk at, to, or over you and you don’t get to express yourself.
Because you’re afraid of “I told you so”.
Because it makes you feel better.
Because it works.
Since I’ve put my “business” on social media, I’ve gotten the most sincere listening ears and encouraging words and I’ve learned that I’m not crazy and not alone in my thoughts and feelings.
I’ve gotten release and some relief even.
So thank you friends and family who’ve reached out to me and prayed for me PR whatever else. I sincerely appreciate knowing I’m not alone.
“Put that baby down, now fo’ you spoil ha good’n rotten
A spoiled baby’s no good when mama’s pickin’ cotton.
Don’t hold dat baby I say, you’ll spoil ha good’n rotten
Titty baby, go away yo mama’s got ta pick cotton.”
I love my kids…and I’m not ready to leave them with other people while I work. I love teaching them and holding them and kissing them and seeing them grow. But apparently taking care of them and making them thrive is not enough.
Apparently It’s not a real contribution to my household and it’s not a high enough aspiration for me personally.
I just want a break sometimes… Like with every other job and I don’t want to be made to feel guilty when I take it.
I guess I enjoy the work I already do, I just wish it was valued.
…But I guess picking cotten is more important sooo…let me get my sac…
I am not superwoman and I have no desire to be. I don’t know what it is that makes the world think that men are completely incapable of doing what women are automatically expected to do.
For some time I’ve noted that I could be busting my tail juggling children and housework and holding onto my sanity by a thread and the minute my husband pitches in everyone is jumping down my throat as if something is wrong with that.
I guess mothers have to be superhuman. We can’t get tired or stressed or frustrated or ever take a break. God forbid we demand our spouses share in parenthood cause everybody knows men are incapable. Weak. Breadwinners. Or whatever other bullshit they and all the old ladies around you use to guilt you, the woman, into taking full responsibility for all aspects of your family—especially if you’re a stay at home mom cause everybody knows you ain’t doin shit anyway, right? Just got your feet kicked up sipping mimosas and getting manis and pedis.
Or worse, you’re just sitting around wasting your life on your children. Everybody wants to know what you’re “gonna do with your life”, but nobody is volunteering to babysit. It’s so disrespectful and insensitive the things people do and say.
Well whatever. Good for mama or grandma or whoever sat at home alone twiddling their thumbs while daddy and grandaddy had the time of their lives making babies and leaving them to drive their wives insane.
I’m not superwoman and I have no desire to be. My children have two parents and I’ll be damnded if I’ll be the only one sweating over them and their well being. However that makes you feel, I really don’t care. I got feelings of my own to worry about these days.
Parenting has its challenges. Especially when you have multiple children under the age of 3 and you’re sleep deprived and you’re just a little sad because you aren’t in the best place with the person you made them with and you don’t know what’s going to happen next or how you’ll transition from staying home with them to working full time.
I have so many question and so few answers. Giving up control is difficult for me, but I can’t deny that doors are opening and a path is unfolding …
Growing just hurts I guess. At least that’s what a very wise person told me once. I’ll just trust it— or try.
I don’t really have a choice at this point anyway.
So today I had an interview. My interviewer was blown away by my resume. I got the job. Just like that…
In preparation for the interview my cousin asked me about my plans and goals and contributions I could add to the organization. I had answers for most and didn’t have answers for some but the biggest issue for me was the massive level of insecurity I felt behind the answers to the questions.
When did that happen? Why is it so?
I have theories but I’m not certain. What I do know is I don’t like it and I’m tired of living in this space.
So I’m done. I’m done doubting and hiding me, and done shrinking to make other people comfortable with me.
I’ve made up my mind that from now on I shine. Unapologetically…
I have completely lost myself and some part of my interpretation of motherhood and wifehood lead me to believe I was supposed to…and many people around me agreed.
Well now I disagree.
Long story short, I’m headed back to me, and I’m giving myself a year to do it. The first step, of course, was cutting my hair…cause everybody knows when a woman cuts her hair, some shit is about to change.
The second was moving forward and leaving some shit behind.
The third…documenting it for me, and for whoever else cares.
So, here is day one of 365…let’s see where this goes…