I met with some friends last week for dinner. I’ve known these women for 15 or so years. Our kids grew up together, we see each other monthly with or without our children. Twice a year we meet to schedule the next few months. I must admit, I had never felt so disconnected to this group as I did that night.
It was an eye opener for me, to say the least. To say the most, it was clearly a result of actions I’ve taken over the last several years that leads me to this moment.
You see, for the last 21 years, I’ve been on the journey of motherhood, just like my contemporaries. But from my view point, the ride has been akin to a roller coaster ride that doesn’t end.
Now I’m not too naïve to know that we all have issues, are children aren’t perfect, they have anxieties, medical issues, mental stumbling blocks. I’m oftentimes on Facebook, the great motivator, the great divider, the great fake. I know which friends have kids with autism, or Crohn’s disease, or anorexia, and I know with great certainty that their triumphs were hard fought wins.
I feel that jealousy that comes with other’s successes, because I still feel so mired in issues. Each new problem is shoved on top of the last, and I find myself overwhelmed with the whole of it. I pull away because I’m so pre-occupied with the bad, and I realize there is so much that another can deal with that isn’t their own.
With that comes the disconnect and an abject loneliness and I find myself stuck in the muck, so to speak, struggling to breathe.
There is no one to blame but myself. I let myself ride this pity-party to the bitter end. To feel sorry for myself because I feel like I’ve received more than my fair share, when all I want is to have a normal day, where I’m not concerned about ADHD, severe anxiety, OCD, transgender issues or doctors. The thought of it has battered me down, left me years of sleepless nights, leaving emotionally exhausted and a shell of myself.
No pity please. I’ve heaped enough on myself. I’ve let the problems run my life. The choices that I’ve made have left me scrambling to find my happy place and enjoy the what the world has to offer.
This blog is my Independence Day. Because after dinner with my friends, I realized, finally, that my pity-party has to end. By not getting myself out there, by not focusing on the good, the world is gray and isolating. If I can’t love myself enough to take care of and put myself first, no one else will want to either.
The problems will still be there, but I’m no longer willing to them rule me, and I’m not longer willing to be their victim.
Being a mom is hard. The greatest gift we can give or children is to love them and to teach them self-care and to enjoy experiences as they come. The best way I can do that, is do it for myself.
The pity-party is over.