I attended a dear friend's baby shower a few years back. One of the things she requested of her guests was to write parenting advice down on a 3x5 index card, for those of us who had children. She handed me the card and said, motioning toward my daughter, "Just write down how to do that. Like, I want to have one of her when it's all said and done."
I without hesitation wrote the following:
"I have learned that no matter where or from whom we come, there are some things best left in the previous generation. We have much to learn and much to unlearn from our predecessors. We decide if and where the cycle stops: good, bad, or indifferent. Just know that you are this precious creatures's first experience and example of God. You will be his or her's first personification of His love."
Because that has been my experience. There are some things I was taught, that while I'm sure was grounded in logic and reasoning, did not serve me well as an emotional being. There are things I was taught that do not serve me as a female in today's society. There are things I was taught that do not serve me well spiritually.
I learned very well to avoid, to apologize for having natural desires, to put a man's needs before my own, to read between the lines, and for the love of all that is holy, to NOT talk about the pink, purple polka-dotted huge elephant in the room. To dismiss and be dismissed. To "never let 'em see you sweat" and to deny my God-given right and privilege to feel. Because at the end of the day, who cares to see and hear all of that? To minimize, conceal, and deny.
Society taught me that love is always enough, to look for the knight on the white horse, that as long as I have a partner to complete me, all would be well. The Cinderella syndrome is a ploy. The knight never existed, and I have kissed enough frogs to know that Prince Charming is a fallacy.
Nature versus nurture, that is the question. Was it my environment or society selling me a fantasy?
In writing, or expressing myself in any form for that matter, I shy away from broad, sweeping generalizations. If my experience differs from yours, if you had a childhood that could be the plot for a warm and fuzzy Hallmark movie, please accept my apologies. And please, forward me your contact info, as I have yet to meet a person who comes from such.
The good news is, as a mother of an infant, there is a clean slate. Unpainted canvas. A brand-spanking new mound of fresh, moldable clay before us. That's the bad news, too. It's exciting, exhilarating, and refreshing. It is also frightening. Very frightening, as the responsibility seems overwhelming and the task insurmountable.
This is what I have learned:
I am enough.
My feelings matter, I cannot control them, but I can absolutely control how I react to them.
Your opinion of me is none of my business.
I teach people how to treat me, by what I allow and what I reinforce.
God's love is not dependent on my self-worth, self-acceptance, or any other conditions.
I am worthy.
To say what I mean and mean what I say-there is a lot of grief born out of not doing so.
To stop apologizing. For the love, stop apologizing.
I used to apologize for taking up space. For asking a question. For not getting it right the first time. For feeling. For not knowing. For being in the way. For you not being in a good space. For sucking air.
I hope and pray I did not pass these tendencies on to my children. I have worked diligently to not pass on the defective means by which I used to navigate through life. I have been purposeful in teaching them that they matter, they are enough, and not to apologize for taking up space. My prayer is they heard me.
If you have churen, daughters in particular, do yourself and them a favor and watch this video. It stepped on my toes. I am not moving my foot, just trying to figure out why it hurts.
