Can you adjust my cape?

Can you adjust my cape? I think it's gotten tangled; maybe you could just help me get this thing off. Sometimes even superheroes get tired of wearing capes.

Yes, yes we do. I've been compared a lot in my motherhood to a superhero. And yes, there are days and moments that Moms have special hero powers, but most of us are average humans, just doing our best to raise non-entitled, well functioning humans who will be productive members of society.

But here's the reality- even superheroes get tired of their capes. It's a lot of expectation to live up to, and in fact it can be crushing. I think it may be even more so for single parents. We get placed on this unintentional pedestal by well meaning people. "Oh I don't know how you do it!" "I could never be a single parent" "You are so strong" While your well meaning words may be be meant to uplift us, they can create undue burden. We're doing what we have to do to raise our children, just like you do. We're just doing it solo or split.

Parenthood is and can be crushing, regardless if you're a mom, dad, married, divorced, separated, single or have a partner. There are moments of great joy, tempered with lots of exhausting repetitive moments. I won't say I don't love being a mother, because I do. I cherish my kids and my role in their life. But I'm exhausted.

Between managing their schedules, extra shifts at my primary job, working more at my second job and picking up shifts with my third (yes you read that right) this PhD mama is beat. Oh, and did I mention I've got a half marathon right before Thanksgiving. So this mama is tired.

I don't want a cape or gold stars or applause for doing what's best for my kids. I want your help. I want you to help me get my kids to their activities. I want you to bring me a casserole so it's one less meal I need to stress about to feed these silly monsters. But if I'm honest, what I really want is a partner to share the burden and the highs and the lows. I'm tired of wearing my cape. I'd like to pass it off to someone else. Reality is that's not happening, so I just need you to adjust my cape so it flutters nicely. 

Running Friendship

Today an interesting thing happened. I went on a long run (12 miles) with an amazing friend of mine. This gentleman has been a support system for me the past 5 months especially, but we've been friends for about 5 years. He listens to my venting, whining and crying. He calls or texts to check up on me periodically. He's just a stand up guy. And before anyone gets any ideas, let me be clear that his amazing man is happily married and old enough to be my father. In addition to that he goes running with me. We can run and talk and laugh, or we can run in comfortable silence. He's an ideal running partner for me and we work well together on our runs.

But back to my run..... we hit 11.5 miles and I was struck with something. It wasn't truly physical, but suddenly my world was crashing. I couldn't breathe; I was near to a full on breakdown; I was a mess.

One step, two steps, suddenly can't run
Hands around my mouth trying to breathe, chest heaving, trying to find my center, feeling like the center will not hold. my world is crashing
A simple touch and my world stabilizes momentarily, but I'm still lost.
A few more steps, another touch and I can almost breathe
Walking, breathing, comforting words and the world comes into focus

I can't say what triggered it or exactly what happened, but without him there I would have been a puddle on the ground. Those few simple human touches and comforting words stabilized my spinning, chaotic world. I've had emotional break downs on runs before. One run in June I got a mile in and then cried for the remaining 3 miles of my 4 mile run. Full on tears pouring down my face. The world was too much at the time and the run set it free. During marathon training I've hit a wall and started crying for no reason after 16 miles or 18 miles. Let me tell you there's nothing weirder than running around your neighborhood with tears pouring down your face while you chug along at your snail pace after running for hours at that point.

But this time was different. I've never had the intense physical reaction that I had. I do know that moments before it happened I was certainly feeling off, but it was like being hit with a train. Out of nowhere I couldn't function. I wanted to curl up in a ball forever, and yet I couldn't shed a single tear. My friend was calm and collected and a safe space for me. The physical touch was the first thing that helped me stabilize. Those of us neurotypical individuals are hardwired to respond to touch, and I'm low these days on positive touches that aren't from my kids. Then his words and calmness and the understanding that we could just stop. No judgement, no anger, nothing but calm and concern.

I can't express what it meant to me in the moment, and what it means to me now that I had him there. I don't honestly know what would have happened had I been alone. I'm sure I would have walked the remainder back to my car, but I would have been a full blown anxiety mess. As it was when I got home and heard a song on the radio the tears finally freed themselves. Today I wasn't gifted with a runner's high from that run, but I was blessed with the friendship of this man.

It's not always loneliness

Today I had the privilege of bringing my kiddos to a fun fall festival at a quaint town not too far from us. This isn't something necessarily out of the ordinary for us. They're used to adventures with me and in the summer it's known as #mondayswithmom. We had on coordinating shirts and had a great time doing crafts, taking a little hayride and walking the streets.

I can say that previously I have done these things and had jealousy issues and left them feeling crushed and lonely. It would hurt to see these "intact" families and know that it's just me and my crew. You wonder if it's bothering them too, especially when they don't say anything. It's a hope and pray that they're doing ok and just keep on trucking because there is nothing else you can do.

Today was different. It was the first time I've been to one of these events and not had massive feelings of jealousy or loneliness. I was content; I was happy; my kids were happy. This isn't to say there weren't moments of other feelings. There was a time waiting in line listening to two moms chatter behind me about not being able to take their two kids to this event because it would have been "too much" without another adult. I get it. I've been there, but I would have been stuck home my entire mom-life if it was "too much." I was the mom wearing a baby on my back and one on my front at times, or wearing one and pushing 3 in a double stroller. I'm not being judgmental about these moms, but I wanted to turn around and say I'm here with 4, alone! You can do it! It might be scary, but it can be done!

Despite these moms and being surrounded by intact families there were a few moments of just wishing that I had someone to share the experience with besides my kids. It really wasn't loneliness, just a desire for companionship. I'm at the point in my healing process to start to recognize the differences between the two. It's a good distinction. I can say that a few months ago I didn't think it would ever be possible. Thankfully, with a push from a friend or 2, my therapist and a lot of my own grit and determination I've grown a lot over the past 4 months.

It's not to say I don't get lonely. I certainly do, but it was nice to understand and be aware of the difference today. Especially after an event that would often trigger something. To me it's all part of the healing and growth process. I'll keep saying it until it sinks in- divorce is a grieving process. Those of you on the outside will never fully understand it unless you have lived it. Though we are grieving, we should also be growing. I like to think that at this point I am doing more growing than grieving. I think that today was a good reflection of that.

It's a good thing to be able to see that my family is whole and happy and "intact" in my eyes. I may not match what you think of when you think of a "intact family," but it's my views that matter more. My kids and I are happy, and I can't ask for more most days. I may have a wish and desire for companionship and a partnership in the future, but for now I am content to be me.

Looking in the mirror

If I'm going to be a more real version of myself as I discussed the other day then I need to confront the mirror. I have to be honest, but not harsh and figure out who I am. I was lucky enough to be reminded by an old friend that at my core I am good person, a good friend and a good listener.

This is one of the most challenging tasks that I have set upon myself.

I look at myself and see a short, curvy Italian girl with a mess of curls and hazel eyes. Catch me on a good day and you'll find the gold in my eyes. I'm one who has had to train herself not to talk so much with her hands and gesture less.

I am one who has intense emotions, and I struggle to realize that not everyone feels things as deeply as I do. I will love you fiercely and strongly. I will fight for you before I fight for myself. And it's not because I'm not important, but because I want you to succeed. I will empathize with your situations and feel your pain with you.

I am moved by words and songs. Music can bring me to tears, and so can words. Happy tears and sad tears are a part of my life. It doesn't mean that I am crier, but it goes back to my intense emotions.

I am one determined woman. Tell me I can't, and I'll do my best to prove you wrong. What I may lack I will put forth in my drive to succeed and excel. You will NOT hold me back. This part of me is challenging to write about as it was such a core part of me that went into hiding for a few years. I have spent the summer bringing it back out and I am sure that the reemergence of this has helped ground me.

I am one who looks for the best in everyone. I don't always look for the best in every situation, but I try. I'm not a Pollyanna, but I've been making a conscious effort to not be the downer that I was over the past few years.

I am a caretaker. I enjoy taking care of people, but I do it with such intensity that it can burn me out. And because of my intensity I expect others to be able to care for me with similar intensity in return. I don't want to "fix" you, but help you mend yourself.

I am a mother. I have 4 amazing children who are my world.

I am a runner.

I am a pediatric physical therapist and certified Epic Clinical Builder.

I am a Doctor of Philosophy with a specialty in Rehabilitation Sciences.

I am a survivor.

"Love belongs with belonging" ~Brené Brown

First off, the title of this post is a direct quote from Brené Brown's book The Gifts of Imperfection. I have started this book at least twice before and never made it past the first chapter or 2. It brought me to tears and made me so raw and uncomfortable that I put it down, vowing I would get back to it. After this summer of growth and a desire to keep growing it has been on my list to start again. A few weeks ago I picked it up and read the first 2 chapters. Did it hurt? Yes. Was I able to process her writing? Yes, which was a first for me.

This morning I picked up the book again and vowed to make it through another chapter. This chapter is about Love and Belonging. I won't delve into it, you need to get the book. But throughout the chapter she stresses that love and belonging belong together, and that belonging is different than fitting in. I had an epiphany, realizing that I have spent a large portion of my adult life working on fitting in, but not belonging. I can "fit" into many situations, I attribute this to the very different life experiences I had growing up. I can chameleon myself into a specific version of me. And truth be told it's uncomfortable at times. Always hiding, changing, evolving into this other version of me. I will never forget in grad school being told by my advisor to tone down my "yankeeness" and rely more on my "Texas roots." In response to that I do believe that I ended up playing up my northernness more because that's who I felt I was at that time. But really? I'm a combination of NorthEast girl with some Texan tendencies.

Luckily, this summer on that fateful first trip to Madison I found me. That raw, real me. The one who can be snarky and sweet, but also fierce and loving. The woman who still mails handwritten letters to friends, delivers homemade applesauce to deserving friends, would drive 2 hours to see you and who loves her kids fiercely with all her heart. I got to be me on that trip and it was freeing. I wasn't a mom, a partner or any other role but me. In fact, my dear friend that I made in Madison pointed out to me as I complained about wearing multiple hats (roles) that they're just hats and I can get rid of them easily and just be me. He was lucky enough to see that raw, vulnerable me in Madison and remind me later of who I am. I'm sure this is a reason that we are still friends despite the distance the short time we spent together. He accepted the raw me and loved me (as a friend) as I was.

So how do I become that raw vulnerable me here in my everyday life? It is something I am going to have to work at. It's so easy to slip into our roles: mom, coach, therapist, analyst, friend, etc. I will have to practice being me; raw, vulnerable me in each of these roles. It will not be easy, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't scare me to let that vulnerability out, but I will not hide. I have hidden so much of myself, especially the last 3 years, that this might be one of the most important undertakings. In recognizing myself and practicing living as me, I know that I will experience that true belonging I have been lacking.

Faith

I have posted a lot about the emotional changes that I have experienced with my divorce, but I haven't ever really addressed the spiritual changes. I keep my spirituality fairly close to me and it's not something I share about often, but it has been an interesting part of this journey. One of my largest fears was having to tell my pastor that I was getting a divorce. I expected judgement, and possibly harsh treatment, but I was met with the complete opposite: Love and Compassion. He told me he had been praying for a different outcome, but that he (and the church) would support me and my kids in any way possible. I was floored, in fact I believe I started crying in the middle of our meeting. It was so many months ago at this point I don't remember the details. But I will remember the love, compassion and his statement that God wanted me to be happy, that I was created to be happy. It was more than I could have imagined and filled me with love that I desperately needed at the time. In fact, my pastor connected me with two other women also going through a divorce in our church. We have become a small local support system to each other in this storm that is divorce.

Personally, I have struggled with attending church. While my faith has not truly wavered, it has been tested. I would sit in church and hold back the tears watching the families. Or there was the time I inadvertently attended the mass for engaged couples. It took all of my strength and courage to not walk out; to sit there and listen to their love and blessings and know that I no longer had that. It was crushing. I didn't want to return to church for weeks following, but I did for my kids. They have watched me sit and sniffle and wipe at my eyes as we pray and sing in church. I have sat and listened to sermons about the joys and special thing that is marriage and contained myself from crying or walking out. I have listened to the cute little old ladies of the church invite me to marriage encounters and I smile and say I'm getting divorced. Their poor faces say it all, pity and confusion.

I have sat in church unable to contain the tears, and eventually excuse myself for a few minutes. Let me tell you the looks I got leaving 4 kids sitting in a pew as I walk out with tears streaming down my face. It's never one particular thing that may trigger the tears, but sometimes it's just this overwhelming emotion that I can't contain. It's heartbreaking to sit in a pew and cry silently while being surrounded by your loving children and have one of them keep looking at you with this confused face. Even today, listening to the readings about God making Eve from Adam's rib and new testament stories about divorce and remarriage and adultery hurt and brought me close to tears. But a few deep breaths and a focus on my kids and my tracing my tattoo and all was as well as it could be.

I have been blessed to have part of my faith renewed this summer. As you all are aware I made multiple trips to Madison, WI and on that first trip I was seized with a strong desire to pray. If I'm totally honest I was never a daily prayer kind of person, other than at the dinner table. I prayed at times, but since that first trip it has become almost a daily part of my bedtime routine. I give thanks for the blessings I have, ask for blessings on my friends and family, and do my best to single out specific people that have made an impact in my life. I'm sure some of you may be able guess who they are if you know me personally. I pray for continued faith and strength and for healing.

It doesn't mean that some days aren't more challenging than others, and it certainly doesn't mean that there are times that I want to yell and scream Why Me? In fact I've been know to ask many times in my nightly prayers, but as I write in my journal often, I just need to have faith and patience. The faith is usually there, patience not as much. And maybe, it's not so much of patience as it is courage. I never feel like I have enough courage, it's always in short supply. But that's the beauty of faith, believing that I will receive the courage and patience when I most need it. This divorce journey has changed me in so many areas, and been a process of self discovery, but I never imagined it would make my faith grow.