Obsession with Innocence

As Jonathan VanNess would say, “I’m strugs to func” right now guys. (I told you it was the summer of Queer Eye). My kids both start new schools tomorrow and both situations are not what I was hoping for. One didn’t get into the arts school we dreamed about for years and the other didn’t get the accommodations I was hoping she’d get to adjust well. I’ve struggled with my feelings about this since we started pursuing the options we ended up not getting back in January. And being rejected from those opportunities was really painful and scary for me as a mom.

Tonight, I’m on the cusp of that transition. Tomorrow is the first day of school. Macy will take the bus for the first time, change classes for the first time, have a phone on her for the first time, and just freakin’ be in middle school (the school that everyone I know says is basically the worst place on the planet…still not sure how this is helpful?!?!) And Penny will start at “regular” school (as opposed to Montessori) in a beautiful brand new building with basically no one that she knows. She missed her old teacher tonight meeting her new one. She struggled on the playground equipment. She asked about what it would be like when we left her there tomorrow without anyone she knows.

I’m scared. I’m scared my kids are not ready because I don’t feel ready. I’m scared they’re going to get hurt and I won’t be there to protect them. I’m scared that the adults in charge of them are overworked and understaffed and will miss important things. I feel shame. I feel like I need to be able to control all the things and the fact that I can’t means I’m not a good mother. I know that’s not true but shame is a liar and I am crying tonight with those thoughts.

I’ve done the work to recognize the source of this shame. Between my exclusively Christian education and the purity culture movement, somehow I’ve learned that I’m not capable (so now my kids aren’t) of handling the awfulness that is the big bad world. I’ve learned that innocence is the most important thing - the thing to protect at all costs. I’ve learned that once it is lost there is no way to get it back. You are forever changed in the worst possible way. I feel really backed into a corner because the kids are in situations that I wouldn’t have chosen and cannot prevent. And we don’t have other choices. So somehow, whatever happens to them in these environments represents my inability to “save” them (hello codependency!) from certain, unredeemable doom.

I really think there’s something here. Some sort of parent-based shame. We are taught to be obsessed with innocence. That morality and purity must remain perfectly in tact in order for our kids to be happy and healthy and safe.

Here’s the thing, guys: THAT’S FUCKING BULLSHIT.

I know it. You know it. Thank God, my husband knows it and has been talking me down through my tears for months. Pain teaches us stuff. If my kids aren’t capable, guess what, the experiences they have will increase their capability! If they are never challenged or shocked or even harmed, how can they grow and learn and hold the pain that life will inevitably bring in adulthood?!?! How can they be compassionate if they’ve never needed compassion? How can they learn to be kind if they’re never treated poorly? Sometimes life lessons are waiting for us on dangerous barely-supervised bus rides and on playgrounds where you cry in fear and adults don’t hear you.

I’m scared. But I’m resolute. We are present, capable parents who will go to bat for our kids if needed. In the meantime, class is in session.

Just a Person

This is the summer of Queer Eye, in the sense that I’ve been privileged (thank you, library!) to get my hands on all the books Queer Eye members have written. So far, that’s just the book from the show, Tan’s and now Karamo’s. Jonathan and Antoni both have stuff coming out soon too. It has been so much fun to spend hours on end outdoors with my boys (oh yeah, and my kids are swimming while I read too).

One of the lines from the first few pages of Karamo’s book jumped out at me. On page 4, he says, “Emotions do not happen in response to events, they happen in response to our thoughts around that event. Having the vocabulary to name your emotions helps you to see how the way you’re thinking is creating them.” (emphasis his). Tim and I had recently gotten into an argument and I was having a hard time shaking the isolation and resentment I felt in the aftermath of what was a pretty normal-beginning tiff.

When you’ve been partnered with someone for 16 years and you really care about being happy and connected (versus just trying to hang on for your whole life), you really can’t avoid working on your shit. And sometimes your person has reasonable needs but somehow your brain changes lanes into trauma/trigger territory. I realized, thanks to Karamo, Tim and my best friend Robin, that the minor issue with Tim became a trigger for a very real shame spiral that I have within me. Brene Brown, in her recent Netflix special, described it with the language of, “the story I’m telling myself is…” Recognizing the tapes that are playing in your mind, or the story you’re telling yourself, allows you to get underneath what is triggering the response and examine the response itself. If anything, normal conflict can give you a glimpse into what is still very tender within you.

It’s not super hard for me to figure out what or why I’m triggered by something. I’m pretty clear on my stuff, not that I don’t have any blind spots, but I’ve been doing this self-work for years and I have a partner who also has done a lot of work on himself and with me in our relationship. The thing I’m getting into now is, how do I re-write the tapes? How do I take a shitty, harmful narrative and turn it on its head? I’m working on creating a few mantras that I can post around the house to affirm what the shame spiral is trying to deny me. In this case, my brain wants me to continue the narrative that my needs aren’t as important as the needs of my family. It’s easy to trace that hang-up back to how our culture socializes girls, how fundamentalism elevated service over self and how having a family of entrepreneurs emphasized performance. Throw in perfectionism and it’s so clear and reasonable why rest and happiness are something I have to work hard to pursue. So the mantra is “I deserve to be happy and rested.” As simple as that mantra appears, it’s hard for me to hold it, especially if that means I am equating my happiness as being AS IMPORTANT as the happiness of my partner and children. But if I can make that concept the lens through which I negotiate my responsibilities to my family, I don’t have to revert to the well-worn path of the mother/wife martyr. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. That is what the black and white brain wants to tell me. That I’m selfish or holy. When really, am I either? I am just a person who loves and who deserves love.