Jennifer Lambert

A Sacred Balance

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Women’s Health

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Women are not just small men. Aristotle was wrong.

All the books and articles and research into health care and practices over centuries focused on men.

There is still so little we know about women and our anatomy and all the experiences surrounding women’s experiences with adolescence, fertility, menstruation, breast health, childbearing, menopause.

We are constantly ridiculed in doctor’s offices. Our pain is waved away. It’s all in our heads. Are we overweight? Are we imagining it? We’re told to take ibuprofen, try a warm bath, don’t stress.

Our symptoms don’t exhibit the same way for the same conditions as men’s symptoms are more well-known.

I had an abortion when I was 22.

I was a different person then – scared, poor and in debt, no insurance, newly married and separated from an abusive man I would later divorce, shamed by evangelicals, finishing my master’s degree, and in line for my first real job.

I wrote about my abortion here. I’m tired of editing that article, so I’m writing this one from a different place. I think the trajectory of my life would be drastically different if I had not had that abortion. I certainly don’t think my life would be better. It was a difficult choice, but I still think it was the right choice despite all the trauma it caused.

My parents kind of forced me into it like I was a young shamed teenager. They convinced me I would be ruined for life, saddled with a child too young and unable to really care for it properly. In a way, they were right, but they were not very helpful, caring, or supportive.

My parents never spoke to me about it again after that day.

Not talking about it is worse.

My first husband told me to tell his family that I had a miscarriage due to the stress of our separation, and I stupidly went back to him out of guilt or something. But that’s another story.

The evangelical Christian church shamed me. They told me that my baby or baby’s soul would look down on me from heaven in disgust. I would never deserve to have more children. I was unfit to be a mother. I was a murderer. I was a sinner beyond forgiveness. They wanted me to be haunted and scared forever. They relished my discomfort.

This is control.

I don’t attend church anymore.

But those lies still live in me – the patriarchy, the spiritual abuse, the hatred and disdain.

All four of my childbirth experiences were traumatic. Medicalized childbirth is dangerous and I was treated like a thing and condescended to by all the medical professionals and my own family members.

I have three teens who were born with uteruses and my fourth child is a boy. I am 46 and haven’t reached menopause yet.

It’s taken me this long to be able to come to terms with all the problems I have faced with my health. And I am a very healthy person. I cannot even imagine what other women face with their health if they have chronic pain or illness or weight.

And if I, a WHITE WOMAN with wealth, health, and great insurance experience so many issues with receiving good health care, what in the world is happening to poor women? to women of color? to women who are seen as other? Women are often left without care, with less than stellar care, with little or no pain management, ridiculed and humiliated.

Women are DYING.

Government Intervention

I am beyond devastated that states are enacting forced birth laws and government-mandated childbirth.

I’m concerned about what could happen to my children or even myself if there were unwanted pregnancies from rape or complications with wanted pregnancies. So many news articles discuss doctors unable to perform necessary procedures to save a mother’s life during ectopic or miscarriage.

In August 2022, a pregnant Missouri woman named Mylissa Farmer suddenly needed an abortion, just over a month after her state enacted its near-total abortion ban. Her water had broken 17 weeks into her pregnancy, and her medical records indicated a number of health factors placing her at greater risk of pregnancy-related complications, including increased risk of sepsis, loss of her uterus, and even death. Farmer is also 41-years-old. Doctors treating her recommended an abortion, but, of course, couldn’t provide her one under state law. Source: Jezebel

When one side of the “discussion” decides that the other side is murdering babies, there isn’t a discussion anymore – there’s a war.

I don’t want to hear your arguments for overturning Roe v. Wade. I don’t want to hear your pro-life praise.

At six weeks, it is “cardiac activity” (no organ has formed) in an embryo that is smaller than a grain of rice. It is not a “fetal heartbeat.”

Most of us love life and babies. Babies are a miracle. I do NOT support forcing pregnancy or childbirth on anyone who doesn’t want it.

Forcing sterilization on anyone is eugenics.

Pro-Life?

The pro-forced birthers are really good at marketing.

Pro-life is a misnomer. It’s simple politics. Pro-lifers only care about white men who are valuable to the capitalist machine. Children, disabled, poor people…these are not valuable. Women are not valuable. People of color are not valuable; they are seen as a threat.

I’ve seen hundreds of tweets about telling women to stop having sex if they don’t want to get pregnant but I’ve seen few calls for men to become celibate or sterile. It will never cease to amaze me how little men are blamed for getting someone pregnant. This is about control and patriarchy.

Men don’t suffer in childbirth; there is no risk involved for men. So many mothers forced into motherhood and risking their lives to give birth. Where will all the unwanted babies go? We already have overwhelming numbers of children in foster care.

My eldest and I have Mirena IUDs, supposedly to regulate and reduce our periods, which doesn’t always work.

My husband had a vasectomy after our fourth child (a boy) was born, and no one asked for my consent!

I’ve read some politicians are wanting to limit contraceptive devices. This is a frightening misuse of power that will endanger so many lives.

Some states are enacting obscenity laws about gendered clothing, or rules for girls playing sports that require menstruation tracking.

Anyone can have an opinion. Your opinion should only govern you. Celebrating policy that revokes the rights of millions is not an opinion; it’s bad politics. No one cares about your opinion. It’s your politics that’s a problem.

Women in Pain

It is ridiculous that I tell my kids to exaggerate and I also have to exaggerate my symptoms or pain levels to be taken seriously. I have often sent my kids to the ER or a regular doctor appointment with my husband, their father, to ensure they receive better care. I often have my husband accompany me to appointments like I am an inept child because I have received poor care in the past and the medical professionals will often talk to him about me like I’m not even in the room.

Also, women should be able to be sedated during IUD explant and implantation. It’s a very painful procedure, even after childbirth. The medical community doesn’t care about women’s discomfort. We can get more help from dentists for procedures than we can for procedures involving women’s parts.

Women can’t get labs when we want to know why we have symptoms. See this thread.

I know I have been dismissed many times when suffering from “women’s problems.” I suffered for years with incontinence and fibroids. I have seen the other women in my family suffer with urinary and gyno issues and receive no care.

Out of desperation, women turn to dangerous supplements and herbs, trying to relieve pain and discomfort and symptoms.

There is no such thing as hormonal balance and no herb/plant can change hormone levels.

Dr. Jennifer Gunter

Women can’t request sterilization. So many doctors refuse elective procedures like tubal ligations or hysterectomies during child-bearing years. These doctors require waiting periods, spousal consent, and other demeaning concepts (like questioning “what if something happens to your living children?” or “what if you change your mind?” or “surely you want to try for another child of the other gender?”) because women do not have bodily autonomy.

Also, insurance often does not cover elective or preventive procedures like pelvic floor therapy.

A little over a year ago, I had surgery to remove two uterine fibroids. They really wanted to just remove all my parts because that’s easier for the doctors. I am mid-40s and it’s a military hospital. The language was so demeaning. There was no follow-up or recovery care.

Rape Culture

Not enough people are talking about consent and rape culture. We need to teach all genders consent from a very early age, practicing with babies even! We need to change how we view bodies and autonomy. Most of us were taught sex ed from a high school sports coach and that’s tragic.

I constantly see articles in the news and on social media protecting abusers and hushing victims of abuse and assault. The pastors are transferred to another church and the women are told to keep quiet, pray more, forgive. Comedians are not really cancelled and are selling out auditoriums while the abused women are silenced and suffer. The #MeToo and #ChurchToo movements did some to help, but it’s not enough and there are still rape apologists who make the road harder.

And for the people who claim they would never get an abortion, great! But you don’t get to decide for everyone. You never know the circumstances and decisions others must make for themselves.

Also, period products should be FREE.

Resources:

Linking up: Grammy’s Grid, Pinch of Joy, Silverado, April Harris, Random Musings, Create with Joy, Mostly Blogging, Pieced Pastimes, Pam’s Party, Tuesdays Twist, STAR Garden, Suburbia, Jenerally Informed, InstaEncouragements, LouLou Girls, Penny’s Passion, Anita Ojeda, Try it Like it, Simply Coffee, Jeanne Takenaka, Joanne Viola, Imparting Grace, Ridge Haven, Slices of Life, Ducks in a Row, Fluster Buster, Artful Mom, Modern Monticello, Momfessionals, Lisa Notes, Answer is Chocolate, Homestead,

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Toxic Positivity

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I’m tired of everyone needing good vibes only, all the time.

It’s irrational and unhealthy to think that everything has to be positive and up, high, cheerful.

We are a culture obsessed with happiness at all costs.

Toxic positivity is the belief that no matter how dire or difficult a situation is, people should maintain a positive mindset. Toxic positivity can be defined as the excessive and ineffective overgeneralization of a happy, optimistic state across all situations. The process of toxic positivity results in the denial, minimization, and invalidation of the authentic human emotional experience.

Common expressions of toxic positivity:

  1. Hiding/Masking your true feelings.
  2. Trying to “just get on with it” by stuffing or dismissing an emotion.
  3. Feeling guilty for feeling what you feel.
  4. Minimizing other people’s experiences with “feel good” quotes or statements.
  5. Trying to give someone perspective instead of validating their emotional experience (“It could be worse”).
  6. Shaming or chastising others for expressing frustration or anything other than positivity.
  7. Brushing off things that are bothering you with “It is what it is.”

My parents cannot handle any negativity.

My husband cannot handle any negativity.

I’ve been told multiple times that I am not to complain or blame for anything. So what they’re telling me is to suck it up, that they refuse to apologize, admit any wrongs, or make any amends or changes.

For my parents, this means that they found a therapist to confirm they were ideal parents, did no wrong, and that I am the problem, an ungrateful child. I was never abused. I am delusional. They’re so sorry they didn’t love me the way I wanted. They refuse to make amends. They have no relationship with my kids, their only grandchildren.

For my husband, he just sighs whenever I lodge any complaint whatsoever, whether it’s about a dirty counter or coffee cup left in the living room or something more important. He is in absolute denial that he was ever abused by anyone, ever, and maybe he did have an idyllic childhood, but he can’t express himself as an adult. He has severe alexithymia. He bottles up everything and cannot have a conversation about really anything. He has no friends and no interests. He would rather take prescription meds for depression and live in denial that he has ADHD or anxiety symptoms nor will he admit he needs to make any attempt to improvements in his relationships with me and the kids.

I am not a pessimistic person. I am a realist. I have spent years trying to heal and be emotionally healthy. Often, I feel like I am beating my head against a brick wall because my parents and husband just cruise along, oblivious to almost everything in the world, and certainly oblivious to relationship struggles.

I am utterly alone.

I am trying to raise four children with healthy emotions.

This means that we feel all the feels. Sometimes, that is triggering for adults who can’t relate to their own inner turmoil. We have to sit with our feelings and name them and understand them. We can’t just push them down or lash out at others.

I’m so tired of feeling angry or sad all the time because my needs aren’t met.

I’m exhausted from the toll my emotional labor takes when I have to remember all the things and I can never, ever drop one ball for even a moment.

Don’t wish me happiness
I don’t expect to be happy all the time…
It’s gotten beyond that somehow.
Wish me courage and strength and a sense of humor.
I will need them all.

 Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea

Too many of us have been taught that we can’t show any “negative” emotions. Our society loves positivity. There are books and blogs and shows about how to be happy. We are conditioned by school and church and work environments always to look on the bright side and paste on a smile, especially women.

What can we say instead of “negative” emotions?

We can use words like “painful, unpleasant, and difficult” to describe emotions that express frustration, anger, or sorrow.

Or we can use:

  • Uncomfortable emotions
  • Emotions we like to avoid
  • Less preferred emotions

Feelings are just…feelings. Emotions are generally neutral and we as a society define them to a spectrum of good or bad, positive or negative.

I understand that constant complaining is hard to be around. It sucks the energy out of you. That’s a whole other issue to work through, but being told to think more positively isn’t helpful.

I’m not saying we should give in to depression, but neither should we always look on the bright side of things to our detriment.

We need to talk more about our feelings. We need to teach our children what feelings are so they can name them, feel them, process them, and move on. We can’t continue to be scared of anger or sadness.

So many of us were abused as children and we just thought this was normal. And it was just so normalized that we didn’t know to question it. Everyone was humiliated at school and at home. Our peers modeled what they learned from the adults in our lives.

We have generations of people who grew up and weren’t allowed or taught to feel their emotions. Now, they’re adults with alexithymia or other inabilities to process their emotions and this affects all their relationships and creates issues at work and in their families and friendships.

You can’t appreciate the highs without the lows.

We need societal healing with all our feelings.

This article sure hit home: 10 Things You Won’t Remember Experiencing If You Had Toxic Parents

What is it to be hopeful and not optimistic? The American novelist Barbara Kingsolver explains it this way: “I have been thinking a lot lately about the difference between being optimistic and being hopeful. I would say that I’m a hopeful person, although not necessarily optimistic. Here’s how I would describe it. The pessimist would say, ‘It’s going to be a terrible winter; we’re all going to die.’ The optimist would say, ‘Oh, it’ll be all right; I don’t think it’ll be that bad. The hopeful person would say, ‘Maybe someone will still be alive in February, so I’m going to put some potatoes in the root cellar just in case.’ … Hope is ….a mode of resistance…. a gift I can try to cultivate.”

Joan Halifax

Resources:

from Seeds Planted in Concrete by Bianca Sparacino 

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Staying Balanced

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It was hard for me to learn how to balance when my kids were little – juggling all their needs while homeschooling and caring for the home, sometimes while my husband was deployed.

Lately, I find myself almost bored, lost with too much time and not enough to do.

I find myself thinking: shhh, slow down. To myself, to my kids.

My eldest is all on her own. My heart breaks a little with every struggle she faces.

My middle two are attending university this year with CCP. The first time they’ve ever attended a school! My heart is aflutter. I know they’ll do fine, but it’s all just so new. And new is often scary.

And then there was one.

My son is twelve and we anticipate a fun year as we move into high school homeschool work. He’s worried he will be lonely without his siblings! He has no desire for a co-op or group activities or field trips.

I’ve seen so many changes this last year in my kids. They need me less and less and that’s a good thing, but it is also bittersweet. I strive to teach them a healthy work-life balance – in spite of our society’s values and the other authorities in their lives.

There are so many opportunities everywhere that it’s sometimes hard to choose and narrow down the choices so we’re not overwhelmed.

It seems the expectations increase the older my kids get.

But we don’t have to follow the crowd and do everything that everyone else does.

Balancing Act

I want my kids to be healthy in mind and body – and having a busy schedule with work, school, and activities often does not allow for this. It seems only to get worse and busier as the kids get older. I struggle to find balance and to make time for them to eat well and sleep enough and be able to play.

Sleep Schedule

My kids seldom have to wake up early and we don’t have to fight over bedtimes. They’ve been homeschooled their whole lives. I have noticed their natural habits and I am thankful that I haven’t had to fight those normal rhythms.

We don’t have to go to bed early in order to wake up before dawn to catch a bus or stand in a drop-off line. There are no hours of silly homework or rushing to complete projects after dinner and before baths and bed.

My kids have never had to wake up early to study last minute or to complete an assignment before school because they have never attended school. They’ve never had deadlines or assignments or homework or tests.

They’re relaxed and less stressed than many of their peers who only know rushing, busyness, being tired from not enough sleep.

My two eldest daughters have jobs that sometimes require early wakeups or later hours on their schedule and it bothers me that it doesn’t have to be this way for young people. They don’t have to enter this world yet. They have chosen this and sometimes it’s hard waking up early or working late. We try to limit the teen jobs to fifteen hours a week since she started school.

I don’t do really well myself, staying up too late reading. I don’t like waking up to alarms and sometimes struggle in the mornings.

Really, we could all use a slowdown and rest more. We used to get along just fine without 24-hour stores and constant availability.

Naps are good. Rest time and down time and quiet time is needful.

Eating Schedule

We as a society struggle with eating healthy. Perhaps our busy schedules have something to do with that.

My kids eat when they’re hungry. They have a huge variety of healthy foods and some fun snacks and treats for whenever they want something.

Also, my kids can use the bathroom whenever they need to use it.

Rushing does not aid digestion. Sitting still all day, every day does not aid digestion.

I remember rushing out the door to meet the school bus while eating a poptart in the brisk morning air. I remember creeping through the lunch line for a carb-filled tray that had to be devoured in 15 minutes before heading back sit still and quiet in a classroom for three more hours. We never had water bottles and the hall water fountains either didn’t work well or the water was warm and bitter. I was constantly hungry and dehydrated.

So meal times are important to me. I want my kids to have fond memories of food and meals.

My kids have a hot breakfast every single morning.

My kids have a lovely leisurely lunch with lots of veggies.

We always have a sit-down dinner together with salad and lots of veggies.

I worry and struggle to make healthy family meals happen in spite of work and activities that constantly want to disrupt the schedule.

Play Schedule

As my kids get busier with their classes, work, and activities, I struggle to maintain some downtime for them. I want them to be kids as long as possible. I want them to play and have fun and be stress-free and worry-free.

There is plenty of time for adult things later. I want to hold on to my kids for as long as possible and protect their innocence and youthfulness.

I have tried to limit my kids’ activities so they don’t get overwhelmed. One does aerial gymnastics twice a week. One does ice skating and art. My son is on an elite baseball team. My second child has a part time job and we agreed to limit the hours to fifteen during school.

I don’t monitor screentime. I don’t have chore charts. We don’t take tests in our homeschool. We work together to get household needs accomplished. I help my kids study for their quizzes and tests.

I see so many ads and posts for tutoring and classes and courses and lessons and clubs and events. I know some families who sign their kids up for all of the things. Those children are surely exhausted, all the time. And we wonder why everyone has a disorder or mental illness? We don’t have to rush to keep up with other people who set false standards.

Babies don’t need reading or math tutors.

I want my kids to have time to play – to watch the movies, to create, to play games, get outside in nature, visit friends and festivals and amusement parks – before the rush of college and adulthood and needed jobs take hold.

Kids need time to play, time to rest, time just to be kids. While I don’t follow a strict schedule, I make time in our natural flow for meals, sleep and rest, and playing.

We all need to slow down.

I’m worried about their peers who always seem to be exhausted and rushed to the next thing.

Everything has become so unnatural.

We have replaced kids’ free time and outdoor playtime with classes indoors that are monitored by adults – teachers, coaches, nannies, babysitters, parents – tutoring sessions, sports training, music lessons, gymnastics and tumbling and parkour and ninja.

There is hardly a moment when kids have to themselves to make a decision or rest or paly naturally without supervision that they don’t know what they want without being told by an adult.

All the checklists we’re supposed to follow to prepare for college – standardized testing, scholarships, forms, meetings, sports, clubs, volunteering. We don’t have to do any of that. Everything will work out in the end no matter if we rush through it and stress about it or wait until the right timing.

I don’t want my kids so stressed out that they have no good memories of their youth.

It’s not a race.

The Holistic Psychologist

Resources:

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I Tried Therapy

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Well, I tried therapy. Again.

I’ve come to the conclusion that therapy is just not for me.

I’ve tried so many different therapists and they were all worthless or harmful, never helpful.

I refuse to waste my time and money on a therapist when I have read and meditated and prayed and learned and changed and healed my own self over the years.

I know there are different kinds of psychotherapy, but either the therapists I’ve been exposed to weren’t very educated or experienced, or just chose to use certain aspects of talk therapy.

My first taste of therapy was when I was twenty years old.

I was locked in hospital for about a week and forced into group therapy after my suicide attempt. Then I was assigned to outpatient therapy – both group and individual for another week or more. It wasn’t helpful. I was scared and at the mercy of ignorant “professionals” who didn’t know me, didn’t know my history, didn’t know my parents. I was blamed for my own distress and for being an ungrateful only child to my parents. I was medicated against my will on Prozac, and that didn’t go well, serving to make me even more wary of meds to the point that I don’t want to try them anymore.

I tried Christian therapists during my first two marriages.

This is what the church, the elders, his parents and family and friends, the husbands themselves told me I must do. Secular therapy was a slippery slope and led to humanism and independence. It was all very harmful. I was told never to show anger so as to be a good, submissive wife. I was told to be available for sex at any time to ensure my husband wouldn’t stray. I was told to endure abuse and pray harder. I was supposed to echo requests to ensure communication was improved.

My first husband is a sex addict, porn addict, pedophile, abuser of his nieces and our daughter. He has abused his second wife too. His entire family protects him and they’re all in denial.

My second husband admitted he had been fired three weeks ago in the therapist’s office and I had to bite my tongue and cheeks so I wouldn’t physically attack him, I was so enraged at the deceit of still getting up and dressing and disappearing for so many hours each day – for three weeks – and his cowardice at having to tell me in front of her, in the safety of her office. He later accused me of contracting HIV and passing it onto him, though he was miraculously and instantly healed during a church service.

A thing I am thinking about today is how when abusers get therapy that isn’t specifically centered around the fact that they are abusive and need to change their behavior (which usually requires a therapist who specializes in this), it often just makes them more adept abusers. Therapy is generally focused on helping the patient achieve their own goals. If a therapist helps someone develop strategies for navigating interpersonal conflict but doesn’t clock that the nature of the conflict is their patient abusing people, they will become an abuse coach.

Annalee

Everybody talks about men and abusers needing therapy but few people acknowledge the frequent and real opportunities for abusers to weaponize therapy language and their therapist against you.

Jane Shui

My sins, faults, shortcomings were constantly addressed while men were upheld as incapable of doing any wrong and never being held responsible for their own actions or inactions.

I still fall into these mind traps since it was drilled into my head for so many years from so many sources.

The military medical community won’t even serve their own military members, much less spouses or dependents.

There is no continuity of care in the military. We are forced to move around so frequently and even though there is surely a database of our medical history, it is still hard to start over every few years.

When we were stationed in Hawaii, my eldest was “diagnosed” with ADHD at age eight or so, we were required as a family to attend therapy with an active duty military member. It was soon obvious that these doctors had an agenda. They put my daughters on meds that suppressed her appetite severely. They threatened us with abuse for homeschooling and coerced us to put her in the base DOD elementary school. My husband was worried his career would be at stake – and no matter if anyone says otherwise, it is absolutely a thing that spouses’ and dependents’ issues and behavior do reflect a military member’s career options. It was a miserable time, frightening and disheartening. After one month, I defied everyone and removed my child from the school and stopped the meds, and we returned to homeschooling and a healthier lifestyle. It took me years for us to heal from those few months of meds and indoctrination. I became further jaded about the medical and mental health community.

We were stationed in Germany for three years when we most desperately needed some assistance when our eldest child was a young teen and we couldn’t really get any help with medical or mental health issues.

We’ve tried to see several therapists now that we are back State-side, in Ohio.

I was encouraged to get a free app sponsored by the Air Force to help me learn to breathe and meditate. I was told to fill in a chart with a support plan when the entire issue was that I do not have any support. I have been offered numerous pills to alleviate stress, anxiety, depression. All bandaids that don’t even scratch the surface of military spouse mental health issues or my history of trauma, abuse, and mental distress.

I was required to meet with my PCM for referral to the behavioral specialist for three different appointments before then being referred to an in-network off-base mental health professional. The mental health professionals at the base hospitals and clinics are only available to military members, not spouses, and they only really discuss PTSD, not any issues with relationships or anything unrelated to the military job.

Getting referrals for mental health is so complicated and time consuming and there is no guarantee the therapist will be a good fit. There are six-month-plus waiting lists everywhere. It’s so much time, stress, money, and paperwork to shop around.

Two of my kids have experienced some trauma and need some mental health assistance. One therapist completely undermined my authority and suggested my child ask us to attend public school, then she would not follow up with me about my complaints, but just completely ended all communication. We were referred to an outpatient daily facility for a few weeks and the therapist, who seemed ok at first, shamed me into buying a guitar to help my child heal better – that has since gone untouched. Thankfully my two kids have found therapists we all trust and respect now, but it’s been such a hard road.

After being encouraged by my kids, I tried therapy – once again.

My kids have concerns that I need a therapist to continue working through some of my issues. They also were curious if I could get tested for autism.

We have contacted everyone in the Dayton-Cincinnati area and no one will perform autism testing on an adult or teen.

After many weeks of being on the waiting list, I was called to make an appointment.

I went with just a little bit of hope, but not too much. I typed out a timeline to save us time and help her remember who’s who in my life, so I didn’t have to constantly repeat myself and clarify.

First impressions matter. Her office looked like a social media prop or magazine spread – all pink and gold with plants by the window and a dozen or more of the “proper” social warrior bestselling books in tidy stacks on various surfaces. It was just so staged. The therapist earned a Psy.D., but she looked like a child. I had specifically requested someone older, not someone young enough that I could be her mother or teacher. Maybe she just looks young. She’s only worked in this field for about five years, so not a whole lot of experience and this is her second clinic, so I wonder why she left the first one. Maybe it shouldn’t matter, but I wonder if she’s married or even has had a long-term adult relationship or has any children. How can she even understand my issues then?

She was quite abrupt at the first meeting, explaining the cancellation policy rather severely (I kinda get it: don’t be late or skip appointments, but wow). She seemed very aloof and cold and clinical. I tried so hard to keep an open mind. She liked my outline and it saved time at intake. She was impressed that I finished my master’s degree despite all my issues – ha! She asked me why am I even still with my husband as she shooed me out the door at the 45-minute mark. So I thought about how harsh that question is for two weeks. I almost didn’t go back.

I had told myself I will go to at least two appointments before I make up my mind.

I went to four appointments! I figured the first meeting was just intake and not a real example of what it would be like and I really, really wanted to give her a chance.

I spent almost the entire second appointment defending my reasons for staying in my third marriage. It’s obvious that she didn’t think before asking me why and she stumbled over apologizing and saying she didn’t mean it that way.

This man is not abusive. He’s neglectful. He’s often thoughtless. I feel I change and evolve and grow while he is stagnant. There are way worse sins than being boring. We have history. We have duty. We share eighteen years of highs, lows, depths, cross-country and overseas moves, deployments, births, deaths, sickness, pain, joy. How can anyone understand or judge?

At the end, she asked what I wanted to work on most at the second appointment, and after these last few months, it seems most relevant to get an objective view about my parents’ ongoing tantrums and abuse and their ignoring me when they imagine I have slighted them. I also mentioned some marital concerns. And of course, I have doubts that I am a good enough mother.

The only helpful comment is that I should let my eldest find her own way now that she’s almost 22 and on her own. I have mixed feelings about this because I cannot just watch her destroy her future.

She all but scoffed at my husband’s issues, because surely I can see he has PTSD and I should be more understanding. OK, wow.

She doesn’t offer much insight about my parents and their behavior. She suggests that a superficial relationship might be better than any relationship at all. Really?!

After sitting with those two statements echoing in my head for two weeks, I just canceled this week’s appointment. I am hurt and confused that these are the only takeaways I have from four appointments. I feel like I just rambled on and on about pretty much nothing and how could she even follow what I said when she didn’t take any notes? There was no plan, no suggested reading, no skills to practice. I don’t need to pay someone to listen to me drone on when they offer nothing. She is not personable and I don’t need someone who’s touchy-feely, and I don’t want hugs, but she is just wooden. She made it a point at the beginning of each meeting to find something about my appearance to compliment and it just felt so scripted. Maybe I’m expected to suck it up and push through for a few months, but I just don’t have the energy or heart space for that.

I should just take more neglect and abuse and this is the best I can ever hope for?

I really do not want to waste more time or money being told that I am the problem and no one else has any responsibility at all to have a healthy relationship.

It’s hard when everyone around me is in denial that there’s anything wrong and they only desire toxic positivity and refuse to work through anything or admit any past shadows.

What even is the point of therapy? Mostly, it is to help people fit well into society. I absolutely do not want to fit in when society is so ill – racism, sexism, capitalism, for-profit healthcare. Often, therapy is to heal from horrible trauma, but I have done a lot of that on my own and I don’t see anything a professional can do that I haven’t found for myself.

I’m also thankful that I have time and money to find therapists for my two children who need and want it and to have tried it for myself, even thought I don’t think it’s a good option for me. I worry so much about people who don’t have resources and access to mental health help. We are a sick society.

We hear constantly: “Go to therapy!” but therapy fails so many individuals and families. It’s not always the best answer or only way.

Books That Have Helped Me:

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The pillars of traditional healing were 1) connection to clan and the natural world; 2) regulating rhythm through dance, drumming, and song; 3) a set of beliefs, values, and stories that brought meaning to even senseless, random trauma; and 4) on occasion, natural hallucinogens or other plant-derived substances used to facilitate healing with the guidance of a healer or elder. It is not surprising that today’s best practices in trauma treatment are basically versions of these four things. Unfortunately, few modern approaches use all four of the options well. The medical model overfocuses on psychopharmacology (4) and cognitive behavioral approaches (3). It greatly undervalues the power of connectedness (1) and rhythm (2).

In Western psychiatry we like to separate them, but that misses the true essence of the problem. We are chasing symptoms, not healing people.

Dr. Bruce D. Perry in What Happened to You?: Conversations on Trauma, Resilience, and Healing
https://twitter.com/profsamperry

Something missing from “go to therapy” discourse is that most therapists are not very good?

Raquel Benedict

On privilege and therapy. People often ask me if I go to therapy, I don’t. Not because I don’t think therapy is helpful. I know it is. It just didn’t work for me. A THREAD:

Jo Leuhmann

Linking up: Eclectic Red Barn, Silverado, April Harris, Mostly Blogging, Create with Joy, Pinch of Joy, Random Musings, Ridge Haven, Shelbee on the Edge, Penny’s Passion, Katherine’s Corner, Try it Like it, Slices of Life, Homestead, God’s Growing Garden, Jenerally Informed, InstaEncouragements, LouLou Girls, OMHG, Simply Coffee, Life Abundant, Fluster Buster, Being a Wordsmith, Answer is Chocolate, Momfessionals, Modern Monticello, Imparting Grace, Joanne Viola, Lisa Notes, Pam’s Party, Pieced Pastimes, Suburbia,

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What if I die?

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My parents had me pretty late for the times. They were 35 in 1976, had been married for about thirteen years. They were set in their ways. I was unwelcome as an upset to the schedule even though they assure me I was desperately wanted.

I have mourned my parents since I was about eight years old. I worried about what would happen to me if my parents died before I was 18. I knew in a macabre sense that I would forever have no one to help me and it would be super hard when my parents got older.

Being an only child of aging parents is tough.

It’s been a long time since I lived nearby and the relationship has never been anything but toxic.

Sixteen years is a long time to live away and only have a few emails to maintain a relationship that’s passive aggressive at best and narcissistic at worst. The most recent email was an admonishment from my mother that she doesn’t know my kids, doesn’t talk to them, only knows what I tell her. She doesn’t even pay attention to what I tell her and seldom comments on any pictures I send. Why must I make all the effort?

My parents ignored me in a little tantrum for several months last year and I worried: how would I even know if they got sick or injured?

It makes me sad and also a little bit scared.

My parents turn 80 next year. They live in a HUGE 3-story house and are still independent, but I wonder how long that will last and what could happen in a blink of an eye. They’re vaccinated, but they live in Georgia and there aren’t any protections in place and they live as though we are not in an international crisis.

Time is running out for healing a broken relationship.

What if I get COVID-19?

I never thought I would really have to plan or worry about what would happen to my family if my husband or I get chronically ill, hospitalized, or died. I mean, we plan for these possibilities with wills, POA, legal paperwork, insurance, investments. We surely hope it never has to be used while the children are young. But the reality with COVID-19 and the political climate means that I have to think about it more as a probability.

Our will states my parents and my husband’s two sisters as next of kin, but that doesn’t ease my mind at all. My parents are old and my husband’s sisters have their own busy families. None of these people share my values at all.

While I feel assured my family would be ok long-term because of our financial planning, that doesn’t help me with the thoughts of how would they cope emotionally and psychologically or in the short-term.

My husband and I, and our three older kids, are all vaccinated and wear masks when we leave the house.

My husband works full-time, in a medical laboratory facility. He’s frontline and knows the statistics and risks. I’ve been very frightened for years what he could be exposed to or bring home. We did get H1N1 a couple years ago, even with the flu shot.

I’m the one who usually goes to the stores to buy groceries. I’m putting myself at risk every time I leave the house. Yes, I know I could use pickup or delivery services, but that has other issues. My greatest fear is asphyxiation. The thought of me contracting a deadly respiratory virus and possibly being hospitalized and intubated while quarantined, isolated, and alone is terrifying to me. I lie awake at night considering if I might have been exposed. Is that cramp the beginning? Did I just feel a tiny shortness of breath? Is my chest tightening? Is this COVID or anxiety or allergies? Will I be ambulanced away or dropped off at the ER and not be able to say goodbye to my family? The irony of my functional depression and constant suicide ideation is not lost on me as I realize I don’t want to die…like that.

I have food anxiety and constantly worry about stocking up on essentials and stress about my kids eating healthy meals and having snacks and enough sports drinks to stay hydrated. I worry even more what would happen if they had to somehow fend for themselves for a long period of time if I got sick or had to be hospitalized.

I’m terrified of my kids contracting the virus. How do we quarantine one in our house so the rest are safe? What if I have to leave my child alone in the hospital?

While my eldest is on her own, working fulltime and living with friends, she is still in a liminal space in her young life and I worry constantly about her wellbeing. A coworker just tested positive and my daughter caught a bad cold and we all held our breath until her COVID test showed “no detection.”

We have always homeschooled. My middle kids will be on the cusp of completing their academics and approaching graduation time in the next two years. While there is still a lot of paperwork for the state and hoops to jump through for them to enter college early, I don’t have so many worries about their education.

My son is only 11 and cannot be vaccinated yet. We’re planning a freaking family birthday party at our local drugstore for when he turns 12 and can get the shot. I’m only sort of joking.

The kids lost their neighborhood friends when some continued to play together while we were in lockdown and one teen boy decided it was the perfect time to inform us that all Muslims are terrorists and all LGBTQ will go to hell.

I worry how he would survive in a school environment or how he could continue homeschooling if something happened to his dad or me. How would his siblings be able to help or handle it?

We were never meant to live in perpetual crisis.

I chose to settle in suburbia so my kids could grow up in safety and peace and have a little nature to play in like I did when I was a child.

I feel lost, alone, scared, betrayed.

I can’t protect my kids from a society intent on killing its less valuable citizens.

I am enraged by people living in complacency or outright denial that there is a vast plague affecting the vulnerable populations around the world. I cannot fathom that governments and individuals really think it’s acceptable to sacrifice children, elderly, others who are most at risk of contracting and getting very ill or dying from this virus.

We are witnessing the collapse of our society like the slow motion fall of Rome while too many people cry that they just want to “return to normal” because that was comfortable for them and they benefited too well from that normal that was anything but normal for many.

We have the opportunity to improve our society, and correct past wrongs that have been highlighted by the too brief COVID shutdowns, but that seems like a fleeting pipe dream as we realize our rights are being reneged after decades, people are evicted and homeless and jobless, schools aren’t updating nor protecting our young, and we’re sacrificing our disrespected elderly to the gods of capitalism.

I am horrified but also feel paralyzed and helpless.

While I do believe that one person can help make a difference, I feel like a tiny teardrop in a bucket full of holes.

Too many financially stable and comfortable people who do care just a little only want to donate a little money or their used clothes and closet cleanouts and feel better about themselves, like that really helps anyone who needs help.

The social media posts from naysaying parents who don’t want their kids “controlled by politics, having to wear masks in school, nor live in fear” are just raising another generation of selfish and hateful people. My daughter takes a gymnastics class with a friend whose sister has COVID. Contact tracing and waiting and quarantine has us all in a panic, as we monitor every sniffle, sneeze, scratch in the throat.

I am perhaps not as shocked as I could be that many Christians are living like they’re going to be rescued by God despite not taking any precautions and showing their disdain for everyone else who is. I don’t think that’s the way it works. A deadly virus not a bipartisan or religious issue.

Vaccine mandates are really bringing out the worst in some people. They would rather quit their jobs than get a shot. And some of these people are in service and health industries, which makes me even sadder.

I am infuriated by all the people traveling, vacationing, going to church, concerts, and restaurants – like everything is not literally on fire and people are dying. They live in a different world.

I don’t want to see the fucking selfish blog posts and social media images of the beach vacations or restaurant dining. These people are putting everyone at risk as they pretend everything is fine.

I am disgusted by social media images of 13 beers on restaurant tables with cheerfully unmasked diners – as our children are hospitalized while politicians ridicule and deny anyone who fears a deadly virus and also refusing refugees any humanity and taking away human rights from women. My grandfather, father, and husband didn’t put on a uniform and serve their country for a publicity stunt.

People confuse patriotism with nationalism and only pick and choose who they deem worthy of honor.

We need systemic changes.

Linking up: Pinch of Joy, House on Silverado, Grammy’s Grid, Random Musings, Anita Ojeda, Anchored Abode, Suburbia, InstaaEncouragements, April Harris, Pam’s Party, Shelbee on the Edge, LouLou Girls, Mostly Blogging, Jenerally Informed, OMHG, Pieced Pastimes, LEO Wife, Thistle Key Lane, Ridge Haven, Fluster Buster, Ginger Snap, Ducks in a Row, Try it Like it, Artful Mom, Penny’s Passion, Debbie Kitterman, Imparting Grace, Slices of Life, Cottage Market, Being a Wordsmith, Answer is Choco, Momfessionals, Cottage Market, Hubbard Home, Modern Monticello, Simply Beautiful, Create with Joy,

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Confidence

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Years ago, I was searching and wondering if I was on the right path.

My kids were very young. I felt worthless, exhausted, and mostly a failure in all aspects of my life.

I went to university to become an English teacher. I sailed through a master’s in education, then got a job teaching high school English. I was able to teach two semesters of college writing as an adjunct and it was a dream that shattered when we had to move out of state. I never returned for that coveted Ph.D.

I left the world of academia to be a stay at home mom, homeschooling my four kids. To many, I was considered a failure.

I grew up in a time that mere mothers were ridiculed (and I think they still are). The Supermom had to do it all – career, marriage, family, extensive social engagements, church, charity.

It’s too much.

It seemed like so many women had it all together, seemed at peace with their place in life, had a successful life doing whatever they were called to do.

I struggle. I feel like I am fighting something or someone all the time.

It took me many years to figure out my priorities as a parent and homeschool mom. I still have moments, days, weeks, seasons of doubt.

When we first began homeschooling, I made so many mistakes. I didn’t know really how to begin. I looked to other homeschool moms who had perhaps been homeschooled themselves or who had older kids and had been homeschooling them for years.

I questioned everything. I questioned my abilities as a mother and teacher. Even though I had gone to college for education and earned an M.Ed., I didn’t feel confident teaching my own kids for a very long time.

Some wives and mothers I knew who did not homeschool felt the need to speak up about how they thought it should be done. And many homeschool parents criticized me for not doing it their way.

I was criticized for answering the phone during the day or running errands with or without kids in tow. I was told to just get a nanny for the babies so I could be social. Or that I should do more for the kids and less for myself, that I was selfish to want any time or self care.

I’ve been criticized for attending church, not attending church, reading the wrong books or watching the wrong media.

Eyebrows raised over what I did and didn’t let my kids do.

So I’ve been told my entire life that I am just wrong. After so long of being told all these things, I started to believe it. And it wore me down and I got depressed and anxious. Then they want to throw pills at me and tell me it’s all my fault anyway, something wrong with my brain chemistry.

I worried about fitting in with the moms who seemed to have it all together. They look like magazine models and their kids seem perfect and their husbands and parents are proud and doting. Theses moms have lots of friends and social engagements, but somehow seem never rushed or stressed. How did they do it? Why did they do it? It was like Stepford and did I really want to be like that?

Would I ever get to that point of confidence?

After a women’s conference years ago, I met up with a group having breakfast at the airport before flights. I asked a very well-known Christian homeschool mom, author, and speaker if we ever get to that point of…

And she cut me off with an emphatic “NO!”

I was shook at her attitude, her rudeness, her anxiety. This lady is supposed to be a mentor to other wives and moms? Her curated perfection on social media, in her speaking engagements, and in her books seem all lies compared to her real self shown to us in that airport.

Almost ten years later, I want to understand where she was coming from, but I’m not even sure what she meant. That we are always a work in progress? But her delivery overshadowed any lesson she was trying to impart.

Some of the most self-conscious, cynical people I’ve met are self-professed Christians.

Forget about your life situation for a while and pay attention to your life. Your life situation exists in time—your life is now.

Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now

Confidence means many things to different people.

To me, confidence means becoming unashamedly more of myself.

I’ve been told that I appear confident. But they mean intimidating.

Why is it that confident women are considered brash, angry, hostile, arrogant, aggressive?

I am quiet. I am not shy. I am introverted. I do not have social anxiety. I think carefully before I speak. I observe.

I have felt a vast shift since I hit my 40s.

I am less concerned about what people think of me – my appearance, my parenting style, my kids’ dyed hair.

This summer, I bought new clothes that I never felt I could wear before: shorts, sleeveless tops. I am not ashamed of my thighs and arms. I spent most of my youth desperate for my body to change and when it never really did get curvy, I was so disappointed. I’ve never had a flat tummy or a big chest and that combo is unfortunate in our society and both women and men humiliated me for not looking like they thought I should. I’ve had so many ask if I’m pregnant because I’m thin all over but with this round soft tummy. I will never look like a magazine model and that’s ok.

I know that I am not stupid. I am not uneducated, but I still have so much to learn and I try to be humble and not insert myself where I am not wanted or needed. I trust my intuition more now. I made lots of mistakes with my kids and I am making amends now. I am ending generational trauma and healing my own self. I love seeing my kids become who they are meant to be – dyed hair, piercings, tattoos, unique clothing, whatever.

I wasn’t allowed to express myself and it’s good to see my kids live free.

I’m remembering who I am, who I was when I was a little girl, before I got stifled, and I feel more safety to express myself now.

I have long straight mousy blonde hair. I even have a few silver streaks. I’m tired of going to salons where they want to make me look like everyone else. I’d rather have dirty tomato-scented fingernails than have a manicure. I have stretch marks, forehead furrows, a vertical line between my brows, and an indention on the left corner of my mouth. I earned these marks. Why would I want to erase them with Botox?

My first three decades or so brought much anxiety with doubting myself and my circumstances with education debt, job security, marriage failures, pregnancy and motherhood.

I’m tired of the comparison trap. I don’t subscribe to shopping emails or newsletters. I loathe the social media ads. I don’t care about the blogger or influencer recommendations as much as I used to. I see the hot trends that everyone “has to have” and I just don’t really need any of it. I am more confident in myself and my style and personal needs. I actually really hate shopping.

When you do not know who you are, you push all enlightenment off into a possible future reward and punishment system, within which hardly anyone wins.

Richard Rohr, Falling Upward

I do long for more than this mediocre suburban life and maybe I will find it someday.

I do get depressed by events happening in the world and by mean people who only care about themselves.

I’ve streamlined and minimized our life. I am prioritizing rest.

We homeschool based on interests and annual rhythms. I refuse to rush or stress over things I can’t control.

I’m excited by what the next few decades may bring.

I don’t have all the answers and I usually don’t even know what the questions are.

And that’s ok.

As we move into the second half of life, however, we are very often at odds with our natural family and the “dominant consciousness” of our cultures.

Richard Rohr, Falling Upward

Resources:

What does confidence mean to you?

Linking up: Pinch of Joy, Eclectic Red Barn, House on Silverado, LouLou Girls, Keeping it Real, Random Musings, Anita Ojeda, April Harris, Mostly Blogging, Create with Joy, Pieced Pastimes, Stroll Through Life, OMHG, Jenerally Informed, Shelbee on Edge, InstaEncouragements, Suburbia, Soaring with Him, Ridge Haven, Ducks in a Row, Ginger Snap, Girlish Whims, Anchored Abode, Fluster Buster, Thistle Key Lane, Jeanne Takenaka, Try it Like it, Artful Mom, Debbie Kittmerman, Slices of Life, Imparting Grace, Penny’s Passion, Hubbard Home, Modern Monticello, Simply Beautiful, Being a Wordsmith, Simply Sweet Home, Answer is Choco, Momfessionals, Embracing Unexpected, CWJ, Fiesta Friday, Shabby Art, Cottage Market, Pam’s Party, Grammy’s Grid,

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Mountain Rose Herbs Essential Oils Review

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Our family has been into essential oils for about ten years or so.

We’ve tried many different companies and of course we love some products more than others.

I am a certified aromatherapist from Pacific Institute of Aromatherapy. Many think this is a scam, but I am also educating myself for over a decade from many different resources. I don’t want my family to get hurt or sick from misusing essential oils, herbs, or supplements.

I have long loved Mountain Rose Herbs for…herbs.

And now they offer essential oils too!

Mountain Rose Herbs Essential Oils are some of the best!

I LOVE the packaging. No excess. Recyclable. Yay!

From their site:

Our product packaging is designed to protect the high-quality botanicals inside. We use a variety of materials including glass, plastic, multi-layer bags, recyclable tin, and boxes to keep the botanical goodness inside fresh. In addition, we pride ourselves on making sure we use green materials to package and pad our boxes to ensure your order arrives safe and sound.

Quality

Essential oils are distilled from plant materials – flowers, fruits, leaves, bark, wood, roots. The timing or ripeness of the plant parts is necessary to achieve the best quality of distilled oils.

These essential oils smell fresh and clean to me, with no underlying chemical scents. I am very pleased.

The Eucalyptus globulus is good for respiratory function and as an insect repellent. It is antimicrobial and antiseptic. There are 900 species and subspecies of eucalyptus – with the most common oils using globulus, radiata, or bicostata/blue globulus. Globulus is the most potent. Be cautious using around children and never use around pets, especially cats. I limit diffuser use and heavily dilute for use.

Lavender is the entryway oil. It is generally the safest around kids and pets. I use it liberally, still diluted on our family and cats for many different reasons – cuts and scrapes and respiratory function. It smells great diffused alone or with a blend. It is lovely in personal care products and tea and recipes.

Peppermint is generally safe topically while heavily diluted. I don’t diffuse this since it can be rather irritating to sensitive mucous membranes. I have used a drop of this diluted oil to reduce heat-related illness in hot outdoor summer temperatures and to lessen the sting of sunburn used with diluted lavender. The essential oil is way stronger than fresh or dried leaves but can still be used in recipes and salves if used very cautiously.

Sweet Orange or Citrus sinensis is absolutely delightful and cheerful. My son has always loved the scent of orange. It’s antimicrobial and uplifts our moods. This is just like the sweet oranges we love to eat. The peels are cold-pressed using pressure to release their oil and scent from the rinds. We love to diffuse this in a blend. It’s great in a household cleaner. Dilute well if applying topically since all citrus products can be photosensitive.

Tea tree or melaleuca alternifolia is a type of myrtle and is anti-fungal, antibacterial, antiseptic, and good for respiratory function. Some types of acne react well to diluted application. This oil should never be ingested or used around pets, especially cats. I generally do not diffuse this oil and heavily dilute.

From the website:

We strive to sell organic products whenever possible. If a product is not organic, it is cultivated without chemicals, or wild harvested. Our 10 full-time lab staffers are constantly testing our ingredients to ensure they meet our strict specifications and are free from adulterants and contamination, including pesticides. You may always request a certificate of analysis, organic certificate, and kosher certificate. Please see our certifications page for more details on the additional documents we can provide for you.

The Classic Essential Oil Kit is a great starter kit for new oilers or veteran oilers. These oils are always in our family toolkit. There are several essential oil kits to choose from.

Do you want your very own essential oil kit?

  1. Code: EOKit15 – Visit this exclusive link!
  2. Offer: 15% off all of our essential oil kits. (Excludes any already discounted products or further discounts on wholesale accounts- Valid for online purchases only).
  3. Expiration: May 31, 2021, at 11:59 PM, PST.

At this time, Mountain Rose Herbs is only processing and shipping orders with billing and final destination shipping addresses located in the United States and Canada.

Maybe you’ve seen certain essential oil and natural products for sale on retail sites?

Statement on third-party sales from Mountain Rose Herbs:

In order to guarantee the quality of our products and keep our prices low, we never sell on internet marketplaces such as Amazon, Walmart, or eBay. If you see our products listed on those marketplaces, they are being sold by a third party, and we have no way of guaranteeing their quality. Please note that products bought from third parties must be returned through those channels and are not returnable to us.

Read the story of the company here.

I am very much enjoying the online group Sustainable Living with Mountain Rose Herbs.

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Tired

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My daughters were 7, 2, and newborn.

We had just completed a transcontinental move from Texas to Hawaii.

I was recovering from a Caesarean section.

We had one car.

We moved into our house on base to find out lots of broken and stolen items from the Texas packers.

My husband began his new job.

I was homeschooling my eldest child.

I couldn’t find any friends with whom I felt actually comfortable.

I was so tired ALL.THE.TIME.

Then the pastor’s wife at our new church came to visit me at our home.

I was grateful that it was naptime for my younger girls and I had my eldest read and play quietly in her room.

I had set out fresh baked sugar cookies and lemonade. Because I was raised always to serve food to guests.

After the pastor’s wife shoved our friendly cat off the sofa, shamed me for my daughter not having made the cookies from scratch, she proceeded to tell me that I was doing everything in my life wrong, wrong, wrong.

I’m not sure what I expected her to do or say, but that wasn’t it.

I was so stressed. I was anxious. I was depressed. I was cooped up in a house with three young children all day every day, homeschooling, nursing, making food, doing laundry, cleaning, barely surviving. Still in recovery from major surgery of a C-section, never resting.

Why couldn’t I lost weight and look like I did before the pregnancies?

My house was spotless. Meals were on time. Chores were completed every day. Homeschool checklists were checked.

I ran a tight ship. I was very efficient.

The visit from the pastor’s wife was the equivalent of telling me just to “calm down and smile more.”

The pastor’s wife didn’t even quote any Bible verses at me.

Surely, I was the epitome of the Proverbs 31 woman?

The pastor’s wife’s visit only made me feel worse.

I felt like I was drowning.

I went to a medical doctor for a physical later that month.

He prescribed lots of mineral supplements, light exercise, and a Paleo diet – before that was even a thing.

Within a few weeks, I felt loads better physically.

But I was still exhausted mentally.

The mental load of a mother is tremendous.

Why is it so hard to make sure everyone in a family of six has good shoes that fit? Why must I remind everyone every day to brush their teeth? Why must I keep track of the family calendar? Why must I purchase all the presents for every single holiday? Why must I do all the research for every little thing?

Life was just hard with young children. I felt isolated with so many neighbors putting their kids in school so they could socialize with each other during the days. They made me feel outcast since I was homeschooling and keeping my kids close at home, with me. These moms made me question my values.

I reevaluated what I needed to do and wanted to do.

I had to focus and let some things slide.

Medication for anxiety and depression actually made me feel worse. I don’t allow myself to be a guinea pig and try lots of new meds or dosages. I just stopped the rx meds and managed my lifestyle and made lots of changes.

But even doing all the “right” things – exercise, getting fresh air and sunshine, eating well, meditating, reducing stress…the depression is still there. But if I don’t do those “right” things? The depression rears up like the monster it is.

Parenting with depression is really hard. There are some really bleak days.

But there are lovely days too.

We’ve moved so many times, starting over in new places, all hopeful – to have those hopes dashed for various reasons.

As my four kids are growing up and becoming more independent, many things become easier and other things become more difficult.

We’re now busy with sports and extracurriculars. I’m sad that most of these classes and practices are right in the middle of dinnertime.

I’m disappointed by so many people just assuming we are like average, mainstream white Americans.

We homeschool, but not like that. We don’t go to church, but we are spiritual. We don’t like guns. We are trying to be not consumerist. We are actively anti-racist. We seldom eat fast food – or out at all. I don’t work outside our home.

It’s really hard to fit in with families who all have known each other for generations.

I don’t have any family. And I’ve never had any friends.

While I happen to be alone, I constantly try to teach my kids how to have healthy relationships. I don’t want them to be friendless or awkward or anxious. I want them to recognize dysfunction and abuse. I want them to be open and friendly. I’m learning along with my kids how to have healthy emotions.

I feel dismissed when I meet new people. I say and do all the right things and I am begging to be liked but tryin not to fawn. I see in their eyes that I don’t have anything to offer them and they smile with only their lips and say, “Nice to meet you.” but turn away to talk to their friends.

It’s like high school all over again. They have no need to make room for me. They don’t make room for me.

I am more than a stereotype. And I’m sure many of these parents I see are too…but how would I know?

I’m still tired.

I’m still isolated.

I’m not unhealthy tired, physically.

My heart and soul are tired.

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A Year Later

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It’s been an entire calendar year since the USA began lockdown to eradicate COVID-19.

Over 500,000 in the USA dead from a virus because we couldn’t care about people over profits.

What have we learned?

We’ve seen an awful lot of uncaring people who fight mask mandates and argue with store employees.

We’ve seen retail stores and restaurants struggle to remain open. Some do a better job than others following recommended CDC guidelines, protecting their employees and customers.

We’ve see the breakdown of government leadership with an insurrection and failed coup.

We’ve seen local leaders torn between maintaining curfews and reopening the economy.

We’ve seen greedy corporations and wealthy individuals demanding more, more, more while so many are without the assistance they need to survive. Deregulation, privatization, and government bailouts make the rich richer.

We have seen vast discrepancies between the rich and poor, white and BIPOC, liberal and conservative, young and old.

We’ve seen our youth turn into zombies before the screen with so many hours of Zoom schooling. We have seen disparity with schooling for children of color and different socio-economic classes. What are we gonna do about it?

We’re in a housing crisis as so many are laid off and unable to work and therefore unable to pay rent.

Massive financial debt paralyzes a great percentage of our “first world” population – as poverty rates climb everywhere and there is no aid or end in sight.

Who are essential workers and why don’t we value them?

Climate chaos is here – vast fires and extreme cold and bizarre weather patterns.

The vaccine rollout is just a mess.

But go on, insensitive people, sure, go on that fancy vacation to imperil more lives who are dependent on your tourist dollars and have little choice but to serve you.

We have at this moment the chance to change our trajectory.

I am so thankful that my husband, eldest child, and I were able to be vaccinated.

My husband works in the WPAFB epidemiology lab. My daughter is a care worker for disabled adults. I was scheduled because I am a teacher. We file as an 08 school in Ohio and I received a message from the county that I qualified.

Our family has not dined in a restaurant in over a year. I haven’t gotten my hair done in over a year.

When did we stop caring about our neighbors?

Is it the rise of social media that gives us a false sense of community while erasing real empathy?

Why are politicians and those brainwashed by the “news” so concerned with avoiding socialism while maintaining American evangelicalism, racism, sexism, and capitalism, widening the vast abyss separating the haves with the have-nots?

We have seen how broken our health care system is and how so many people suffer trying to juggle their physical and mental health with keeping their jobs and paying rent. We can afford to care for people properly.

We now know how many jobs can be done virtually. We can abolish the rat race of 40+ hours a week. We can prioritize rest and relationships over profit. Will we do this?

What is the cult of self-care anyway? It’s doing all the unnoticed, tiny, deliberate, thankless tasks that keep us from falling downward into the spiral.

 Self-care should not be something we resort to because we are so absolutely exhausted that we need some reprieve from our own relentless internal pressure.

Brianna Wiest

If you’re thinking that the pandemic hasn’t really affected you and your family, then you’re not thinking far enough ahead nor about the bigger picture.

What is the effect this year of isolation will have on our children? And I’m not saying that our kids are gonna be behind in school. The psychological effects of watching our world burn this last year will be long-lasting.

What is the cost of a year without friends? Most of my kids’ acquaintances continued socializing all through this last year, oblivious to CDC guidelines. We are left behind, forgotten, dismissed. It will be difficult to reintegrate socially and do we even want to – with such callous people?

All the togetherness is trying for some families who are used to going their separate ways every morning – to day care, school, work. Our lifestyle hasn’t greatly changed. We’ve seen lots of complaining and comments from many families online. The lockdown provided children and parents time to learn they like one another. Or not. We have seen some issues with families who have to learn how to actually live together.

Why are so many yearning to “go back to normal” when it’s so obvious that normal isn’t working?

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I am not insignificant

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I’m in my mid-40s and I still fight my inner thoughts that tell me I am worthless, unimportant, insignificant.

It doesn’t help that my parents still remind me, if not so much in the words they used to use during my childhood and youth, but in their action, inaction, criticism of myself and family, my parenting choices and lifestyle. They mostly just ignore me and my children. They’re uninterested in what we do. I don’t bother to share our triumphs with them. I rarely call them and when they call me, it’s only to list their medical appointments and complain about everything.

As an only child, I didn’t know anything different than my life with my dysfunctional parents. Since I wasn’t sexually molested or physically beaten, I didn’t realize I was being abused verbally, emotionally, and psychologically. I think many of us just wave away abuse and think others have it so much worse.

I often didn’t eat lunch at school. I remember sitting at the dinner table many nights, refusing to eat. I had frequent migraines for many years. I remember having painful digestive issues. I don’t have many memories of my mother comforting me or caring for me when I was sick or not feeling well. I remember my father with cold, wet washcloths and massaging my eyebrows.

I felt like a burden whenever I was sick, like I was inconveniencing my parents.

I struggled to make friends at school. I struggled with school, but I managed to make good enough grades and stay out of trouble for the most part.

I didn’t know other families were happy, loving, accepting while mine was demeaning, humiliating, intolerant.

Kids can’t be expected to recognize dismissal, emotional neglect, narcissism. I just learned to cope and avoid and cater to my parents’ sporadic moods. I woke up every single morning with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, worried what tantrums my parents might have that day and over what minor inconvenience or misspoken word by me.

I had a lot of freedom as a kid in the 1980s.

But it was mostly neglect.

I had no escape, no safe spaces.

We didn’t attend church. I mostly felt lost and alone at school. I was sent outside to play if I was home.

After school and during summers, I ran the neighborhood, often having lunch at a friend’s house and not coming home until the street lights came on.

My dad traveled a lot and it was more peaceful when he was gone. I wasn’t allowed to have friends over if he was home. I didn’t know this was unusual. I always accepted an invitation to a friend’s house to get away from my own home.

I avoided most of my friends’ parents while also silently begging for attention. They probably thought I was weird. I feared all adults, all authority.

My jack o’lantern was always smashed in the street on Halloween. The yard was often TP’ed and the house and mailbox egged. I didn’t know what this meant, but I realized much later that my dad was hated in the neighborhood for years for his outspoken intolerance and criticism. My parents didn’t have any friends.

My bedroom door didn’t close; the hinges were warped. I wasn’t allowed privacy. Closing the bathroom door never mattered; my parents would walk in without knocking.

I was encouraged to try many activities, but they never lasted long. I longed to do ballet and learn piano, but it never happened. Ballet lessons were “too expensive.” We had an old, out-of-tune organ and I got lessons for a few months when I was in fourth grade, but it was hard to practice. They wouldn’t pay to tune the organ or get me a piano keyboard. I didn’t know there were recreational sports, but I’m sure it was also too expensive.

I was a cheerleader in eighth grade and I can’t remember a single game where my parents attended to watch me cheer. They didn’t even pick me up from games. I had to bum rides from other parents to Pizza Hut and my parents would pick me up there. It was embarrassing to be the only kid without parents.

I tried basketball and tennis in school but I felt very out of place and didn’t know all the rules of the games.

I wasn’t allowed to take art in high school except for one semester as an elective. It was a tiny victory.

When I became a teenager and expected to do teenager things, my dad criticized me for wanting to hang out with friends or date. He acted jealous and irrational. I had no privacy. There was no trust. I’m surprised he got me a car – a 1974 VW Bug for $650. I’m surprised he let me have a part-time job and keep all my money. I had to lie and deceive just to go meet a friend at a store or restaurant or the library. He acted jealous I wanted to have other relationships.

I was never a bad kid. I was too scared to ever really do anything. I was always home on time, but I was yelled at if I was even one minute late. There was never any grace.

It hit me hard the other day that my parents told me I was unlovable and made me break up with my boyfriend when I was about eighteen. He was a lovely boy and his family were great. They loved me. They were kind and good to me.

Who knows where it could have gone if it had been allowed to progress naturally? Would we have grown apart during college? Would we have grown together? I will never know.

My parent’s selfishness and unwillingness to relinquish control broke both me and him. I never got to apologize to him. I found him on social media and he’s divorced with a couple kids and remarried. I won’t contact him to dredge up anything because why should I now, so many years later. It would be selfish of me. None of it was his fault.

My parents also gaslighted me after my suicide attempt when I was 21, that I was just being used by the man I was seeing. Again, they told me I was unlovable and stupid to put myself in this vulnerable position where they continued to control me.

My parents found therapists and doctors to tell them what great parents they were and how childish I was. I hadn’t reached individuation. I had no autonomy. I mean, really? I was 21, being treated like a 12-year-old.

A child that’s being abused by its parents doesn’t stop loving its parents, it stops loving itself.

Shahida Arabi, Becoming the Narcissist’s Nightmare: How to Devalue and Discard the Narcissist While Supplying Yourself

I was weak and hurt and fragile. I felt trapped.

This pushed me over the edge to run away and marry him.

I regret this, but it is what it is. What if I had been stronger? What if I’d had any support from anyone?

After I ran away, my parents found another therapist to tell them what a bad daughter I was – selfish and childish and ungrateful.

But I wasn’t a bad daughter. I was a desperate daughter, seeking connection.

My parents love to remind me all they did for me. They bought me clothes and kept the groceries stocked and paid for the house we lived in.

They provided for my basic needs.

They bought cars and paid for the insurance until I ran away. I never really asked for or wanted the cars that they traded in every couple years. It was like a weird game for them. They claimed newer cars were safer. Obviously I needed a way to get to school and work and I appreciated not having the bills.

They paid for my divorce. My parents co-signed for my apartment. Then my father co-signed on my home mortgage.

But, they never paid for my education. I did that with scholarships for my bachelor’s and a loan for my master’s. They maybe paid some tuition when I dual enrolled as a high school senior and paid for some books and admin fees.

Oh, how they love to remind me about every little thing.

Everything had strings attached.

They don’t value emotions or struggles or triumphs.

They refuse to discuss anything they don’t like.

Moving away was probably the best thing I ever did.

I had panic attacks the first two years. Then I spent a few years trying on personae to see who I liked. I didn’t know who I wanted to be. I couldn’t remember what I had ever liked.

It took many years to learn how to be myself. Sometimes I still forget.

Yes, I have been to various therapists. Yes, I have tried various medications for depression and anxiety. It’s been a long, hard road – to nowhere.

I am healing myself.

My parents have never expressed interest in maintaining contact with me or my children via snail mail, social media, or any communication technology. They just don’t want to. They sometimes complain that my emails go to their spam folder, but I don’t understand how that would happen.

My parents only visited us a few times times during all these sixteen years. They always stayed in hotels, which is a small blessing.

My parents drove out to San Antonio, Texas, twice, for the births of my middle girls. They were no help to us during that time. I had to entertain them and go out to dinner with them – all sooner than I should have left the house.

They flew to Hawaii for a vacation during December – the rainiest dreariest month. My father was sick almost the whole time and the plane ride for hard for him.

He couldn’t be bothered to come back out for the birth of my son a year later. My mother came alone and it was stressful. I had to rely on her for help. After all, wasn’t that why she was there? She was cruel to my daughters and I was unavailable and didn’t know until after she had flown home.

Then they visited me and the kids in Utah while my husband was deployed. My kids’ schedules were greatly disrupted and my parents wanted me to cater to their needs – to the detriment of my children. They got mad at me and left early, then sent me hate mail about what a bad mother I am and such a disrespectful daughter.

They never visited us while we lived in Germany.

We stayed with my parents before PCSing to Germany and when we PCSed back to The States. It was stressful. My dad had tantrums and left for an entire day, disappointing my son. Promises were not kept with my eldest. Everything was performance-based and we were all so confused.

They came up to Ohio for Christmas when my husband was deployed the second time. It was mostly ok. They stayed at a hotel and my kids are older and busier and less bothered by them.

They surprised my husband by driving up for his promotion ceremony in spring. They adore my husband.

Over the years, my relationship with my parents is superficial at best.

I reply to their emails every day or two. If I don’t email every day, I get criticized for not caring. They use Yahoo email like the rest of us use Messenger and they think my replies should be instant. My dad still has an ancient cell phone that only makes and receives calls. My mom got a newer Android phone but she doesn’t really know how to use it.

It’s been a lot. I’ve spent years trying to heal myself and this generational trauma.

I’ve struggled to make healthy relationships with others all my life. I worry my kids don’t know how to make and keep friends because they don’t see me or their father succeed in this. I feel alone and lost.

My parents have ignored me since January 6 and I really don’t know why this time.

They periodically do this and I always contacted them to apologize – for nothing, anything, just to make amends to whatever imagined ill they felt I inflicted.

Perhaps they’re mad that I voted differently and have different political views. My father emailed my husband, telling him he bought a gun and carry license.

I carry all this heaviness around with me all the time. My kids and husband don’t have these weights. They will never understand.

I am not insignificant.

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