Love. One of my most deeply held values, and yet one that mystifies me, and when I'm not at my best, even eludes me. That said, I love hard. I love unconditionally and I love easily. I start with love. Unfortunately, I don't often stop loving (unfortunate for my heart and mind, that is). If my heart opens to something or someone, it rarely closes back off. I take unconditional to new heights, you might say.
It's a blessing, and certainly a curse.
My sweet Ellen loves hard, just like me. We saw it early. She loved everything from spoons, to toys, to people - quickly, unconditionally, and long-lasting.
Last week we transformed their room into a "big girl" room - instead of toddler beds (their old cribs), they have (very low height) loft beds. The room I carefully designed for them (a design that started long before I was pregnant with them) and DIYed everything in - including redo-ing a very tired dresser that had sat in our friend's garage for god knows how long (and possibly was filled with nothing but tools and porn prior to their ownership of the home). It was a sunny but muted yellow - one of the paint swatches I carried in my purse everywhere for nine months (we all wish I was kidding), and recently came across next to their inked footprints from their birth (three years later, even I am a little surprised they were apparently considered important enough to make into that folder of VIP baby artifacts). That dresser held diapers, onesies, footie pajamas, and was their changing table up until about a year ago when they were officially the size of kindergartners and we just had to stop that ridiculousness. (In case it's not coming through, I had my own silent tears and love related struggles as we transitioned the room.)
On Saturday we brought old yellow to Goodwill so it could have a new home. Ellen silently cried while we unloaded it. After pulling away, we had to back up and open her door so she could see and say good-bye to it. As we pulled away (again) the tears just rolled down her face...
She loves hard. She is going to have her heart broken into millions of pieces in life. It will make her stronger. It certainly made me stronger, but it's not an easy path. I wouldn't want it any other way for myself, personally - I've learned so much from it, but goodness, it's going to be hard to watch. A dresser we can bring back (we didn't) - we won't be able to fix her broken heart so easily as she grows.
I should pause to acknowledge and name my gratitude for having two daughters who are unapologetically distinct. Mags, while so kind, thoughtful, and full of her own kinds of emotions, is not loose with her heart. She will also probably beat up those who break her sister's heart, depending on the crime committed. Balance is beautiful.
Anyhow, my mind got lost on love today at the gym. I was looking around at ALL THE PEOPLE (so. many. people.). My gut reaction was annoyance and so (so) much judgement, not love. I have uttered flippant frustration and votes of zero confidence for all these New Year's Resolution-ers to the wifey since January 2... "Oy, here we go again - how long you think they'll last?"
... Sums up my attitude for almost a week. But why? Why, as someone who is everyone and anyone's cheerleader when it comes to getting fit and a finding balance and a healthy lifestyle, am I not lifting these people up and cheering them on? Why do I (or we, as a society...) scoff at these people? Why do we scoff at people trying to commit to a different lifestyle in pursuit of happiness - whether it be gym going or some other resolution we bear witness to? These people already have the odds against them, why not love them while they are trying?
These seem like obvious answers. They are. While I wasn't actively tearing anyone down, directly, I certainly wasn't being anyone's champion. So today, instead of smiling and looking down as I passed new faces (or really, any faces), I gave big smiles and hellos. It's pretty trivial (the gesture and the subject more broadly), but felt so much better to orient this way (not surprisingly).
While not true for me when it comes to the health and fitness of others, the idea of lifting others up, especially other women (i.e. cheering their success on) - it doesn't come as naturally to me as I'd like. It's a part of life where my actions have, somewhat shamefully I'd say, never fully matched my values. I first noticed it when I struggled with infertility - watching other women get pregnant by what seemed like drinking out of the same cup as their husband poked at, and eventually pretty much destroyed, my ability to wish success for other women in spite of my own lack of it.
Bitterness is an ugly, ugly entity. It wears on you in the worst and most damaging way possible.
I wish I could say I was only this way when it came to pregnancy prone and super fertile bitches (said with so much love and nothing but pure and unadulterated jealousy of the most understandable nature), but I also realized I was doing it with women, or perhaps anyone - but especially women, being successful in their careers. In particular, those people further down the specific path in life I am traveling (or hope to travel). Prior to becoming aware of this and actively working to acknowledge (and let go) of these feelings, I found myself (usually silently) doing the opposite of well-wishing, finger crossing, or anything else of a supportive nature when a woman shared a potential opportunity they had before them with me.
GAH. It feels downright gross to admit this was a reality of mine. It feels even worse to know that now and then I still have some dormant or residual thoughts and feelings that I have to work to let go of... I'm not proud to admit this, obviously (or at least I hope that's obvious), but I still can struggle to be excited about another woman having/getting something I seek to be true for myself. Ugh (to that kind of thinking/reaction). That's not love. Certainly not unconditional love.
On a tangential, but somewhat related and perhaps more light-hearted note, this pattern of behavior and thinking was especially problematic in my single/non-married days, as the adventures of my late teens and early 20s offer evidence of. There's some outstanding apologies to women who had things (read: *people*) I sought that are still probably due (overdue, clearly). Sorry. Hopefully time eventually forgives bitchiness. Fingers crossed.
On a happier note, in most situations (let's go with 98%?) I am the first to lift up and support others - women included, and cheer them on these days. I'm fairly confident it's mostly rooted in having found my own inner-happiness, increased confidence, and general sense of calm with who I am and where I am (again, not surprising as I reflect on this that without these things, people, myself included, struggle to wish it for others). However, it's also been a product of becoming much more self-aware of my struggle on this front and working to overcome my own insecurities to offer up the same that love (that I am so quick to offer others) to those who might be a few steps ahead of me on the path, who deserve it no less.
*insert ALL quotes from Tracee Ellis Ross here* (But seriously...)
Here's to year filled with even more love. Love when it's easy. And love when it's hard. And don't stop.
Love like Ellen.
It's a blessing, and certainly a curse.
My sweet Ellen loves hard, just like me. We saw it early. She loved everything from spoons, to toys, to people - quickly, unconditionally, and long-lasting.
Last week we transformed their room into a "big girl" room - instead of toddler beds (their old cribs), they have (very low height) loft beds. The room I carefully designed for them (a design that started long before I was pregnant with them) and DIYed everything in - including redo-ing a very tired dresser that had sat in our friend's garage for god knows how long (and possibly was filled with nothing but tools and porn prior to their ownership of the home). It was a sunny but muted yellow - one of the paint swatches I carried in my purse everywhere for nine months (we all wish I was kidding), and recently came across next to their inked footprints from their birth (three years later, even I am a little surprised they were apparently considered important enough to make into that folder of VIP baby artifacts). That dresser held diapers, onesies, footie pajamas, and was their changing table up until about a year ago when they were officially the size of kindergartners and we just had to stop that ridiculousness. (In case it's not coming through, I had my own silent tears and love related struggles as we transitioned the room.) |
| I'm not the only one who takes pictures of their kids crying, right? |
She loves hard. She is going to have her heart broken into millions of pieces in life. It will make her stronger. It certainly made me stronger, but it's not an easy path. I wouldn't want it any other way for myself, personally - I've learned so much from it, but goodness, it's going to be hard to watch. A dresser we can bring back (we didn't) - we won't be able to fix her broken heart so easily as she grows.
I should pause to acknowledge and name my gratitude for having two daughters who are unapologetically distinct. Mags, while so kind, thoughtful, and full of her own kinds of emotions, is not loose with her heart. She will also probably beat up those who break her sister's heart, depending on the crime committed. Balance is beautiful.
Anyhow, my mind got lost on love today at the gym. I was looking around at ALL THE PEOPLE (so. many. people.). My gut reaction was annoyance and so (so) much judgement, not love. I have uttered flippant frustration and votes of zero confidence for all these New Year's Resolution-ers to the wifey since January 2... "Oy, here we go again - how long you think they'll last?"
... Sums up my attitude for almost a week. But why? Why, as someone who is everyone and anyone's cheerleader when it comes to getting fit and a finding balance and a healthy lifestyle, am I not lifting these people up and cheering them on? Why do I (or we, as a society...) scoff at these people? Why do we scoff at people trying to commit to a different lifestyle in pursuit of happiness - whether it be gym going or some other resolution we bear witness to? These people already have the odds against them, why not love them while they are trying?
These seem like obvious answers. They are. While I wasn't actively tearing anyone down, directly, I certainly wasn't being anyone's champion. So today, instead of smiling and looking down as I passed new faces (or really, any faces), I gave big smiles and hellos. It's pretty trivial (the gesture and the subject more broadly), but felt so much better to orient this way (not surprisingly).
While not true for me when it comes to the health and fitness of others, the idea of lifting others up, especially other women (i.e. cheering their success on) - it doesn't come as naturally to me as I'd like. It's a part of life where my actions have, somewhat shamefully I'd say, never fully matched my values. I first noticed it when I struggled with infertility - watching other women get pregnant by what seemed like drinking out of the same cup as their husband poked at, and eventually pretty much destroyed, my ability to wish success for other women in spite of my own lack of it.
Bitterness is an ugly, ugly entity. It wears on you in the worst and most damaging way possible.
I wish I could say I was only this way when it came to pregnancy prone and super fertile bitches (said with so much love and nothing but pure and unadulterated jealousy of the most understandable nature), but I also realized I was doing it with women, or perhaps anyone - but especially women, being successful in their careers. In particular, those people further down the specific path in life I am traveling (or hope to travel). Prior to becoming aware of this and actively working to acknowledge (and let go) of these feelings, I found myself (usually silently) doing the opposite of well-wishing, finger crossing, or anything else of a supportive nature when a woman shared a potential opportunity they had before them with me.
GAH. It feels downright gross to admit this was a reality of mine. It feels even worse to know that now and then I still have some dormant or residual thoughts and feelings that I have to work to let go of... I'm not proud to admit this, obviously (or at least I hope that's obvious), but I still can struggle to be excited about another woman having/getting something I seek to be true for myself. Ugh (to that kind of thinking/reaction). That's not love. Certainly not unconditional love.
On a tangential, but somewhat related and perhaps more light-hearted note, this pattern of behavior and thinking was especially problematic in my single/non-married days, as the adventures of my late teens and early 20s offer evidence of. There's some outstanding apologies to women who had things (read: *people*) I sought that are still probably due (overdue, clearly). Sorry. Hopefully time eventually forgives bitchiness. Fingers crossed.
On a happier note, in most situations (let's go with 98%?) I am the first to lift up and support others - women included, and cheer them on these days. I'm fairly confident it's mostly rooted in having found my own inner-happiness, increased confidence, and general sense of calm with who I am and where I am (again, not surprising as I reflect on this that without these things, people, myself included, struggle to wish it for others). However, it's also been a product of becoming much more self-aware of my struggle on this front and working to overcome my own insecurities to offer up the same that love (that I am so quick to offer others) to those who might be a few steps ahead of me on the path, who deserve it no less.
*insert ALL quotes from Tracee Ellis Ross here* (But seriously...)
"I feel like our culture is so good at pulling other people down and being so judgmental, but there's space for all of us to be who we are. There's space for us to celebrate each other and root for each other and not take each other down."
"As I get older, the more I stay focused on the acceptance of myself and others, and choose compassion over judgment and curiosity over fear."Both oddly fitting on multiple fronts, having just endured two hours of political commentary on #45's fear-inducing and judgement-filled nine minute address to the American people.
Here's to year filled with even more love. Love when it's easy. And love when it's hard. And don't stop.
Love like Ellen.
