The Monster Within...And How To Deal

*So let me properly set this up for you. My family and I are moving to a new house (and city) in a few weeks which, if you've moved especially, with young children, I don't have to tell you how stressful this is. My daughter went from being a 6 week old who slept through the night beautifully to a 6 month old who is up every 2 hours at night. And I'm doing a lot of work on my business right now. Soo...I'm stressed. A lot.

Fast forward to a Sunday morning. We had just come back from breakfast and my baby was overdue for a nap but she will not go down. And this is like any other minute of every other day and they just all run together in one frustrating mess of half memories. This is nothing new by a long shot. And yet the anger I experienced felt very new.

No, it wasn't anger...it was rage.  And it wasn't just in my head or heart the way my feelings usually are.

It was in my body.

I wanted to kick something, hit something, scream at someone. Get the rage OUT of my body because it felt intolerable. I was crawling out of my skin.  I felt like an absolute monster/crazy person/some other terrible word for myself (which gave me a lot of empathy for my poor toddler who feels this way several times a day but I digress).

So as I was walking around trying to breathe and calm down (while I had safely placed my baby in her crib, I should add) I started to think about what I needed to do to actively cope instead of merely survive this moment. I decided I would go for a run as soon as my husband and son got home. No sooner than having that healthy, adaptive though, I immediately came up with 100 reasons why I couldn't do that: "You're being crazy", "Don't be so dramatic", "You have so much stuff you actually HAVE to do...what makes you think you should be able to go for a run??".

But the rational, kind part of myself reminded me that I can't take care of anyone or anything else until I take care of myself. So I put on my running clothes, laced up my shoes, and impatiently waited for my husband to come home.  And then I actually left.

Breathe.

Now I'm running, sprinting actually. I could stomp the ground as hard as I wanted, pump my arms and legs as fast as I could...and it felt good. But the tears came then. Rage tears, hot and wet on my face, blurring my eyes as I ran down the sidewalk.   But I let myself cry.  If I bumped into a fire hydrant because I couldn't really see, so what!  (I didn't - whew!)  If a passerby thought I should be institutionalized, who cares!  I cried and cried and cried as I sprinted through my neighborhood.  And slowly the lump in my throat that only existed because I had been fighting my emotion went away.

Breathe.

I kept running. Disgust is what came up next. Disgust at myself. That I could let myself get that angry. That I could feel that rageful toward people that I love, that (for the most part) have done nothing wrong.  That I could have my freakin' doctorate in feelings and still not be able to manage my own.  The intense anger felt SO TERRIBLE and it was hard to believe, awful to believe, that I was capable of feeling that way.

But at some point I noticed that compassionate part of myself starting to whisper about being human. Started reminding me of the enormous amount of pressure and stress that I'm currently facing and when you add total and complete sleep deprivation to that picture, anyone might feel some of what I had been feeling in that moment at my home. Or maybe they wouldn't feel what I was feeling but they would feel SOMETHING. Simply having unpleasant thoughts and feelings doesn't make me a monster, it's what I do with them that counts. And I was running. I could've been doing a lot of other not great things, but I was running.  So maybe I wasn't so bad after all.

Breathe.

I kept running and I started to fatigue from the sprinting. I could feel the anger draining from my body as my muscles finally began to tire.  So I stopped to walk and think. Think about what I was doing.  I didn't want to simply experience the feelings, I wanted to think about my thoughts and my feelings so that I could understand them. So I could later explain them to my aunt and husband who were waiting for me at home, undoubtedly wondering what the hell was going on. And I wanted to be able to explain it to you.

But then I noticed that when I stopped to think, some of the anger bubbled back up as I was walking. So I figured I should write about everything to better understand it. So I stopped in a park and sat in the grass, enjoying the beautiful fall weather while tears spilled down my cheeks, again, (I'm a cry-er, what can I say??) and let my thumbs fly across my phone screen writing all of this down.

Breathe.

So what's the take away?  What can you and I both learn from my mess of a morning.  Several things I hope.

1) When you are melting down, however that looks for you, you are not a monster/crazy/substitute some other terrible word about yourself. You are human. You are having a hard time. And you feel things. And sometimes those feelings are intense or feel intolerable.  But that's human too.

2) When you find yourself melting down, you need to actively cope. That sounds like me saying something incredibly obvious - did you know water is wet?? - but when we're feeling something really intensely, we often forget to cope. We start to spin around in our heads and all we can think about is the possibility of going down the drain - being sucked into these terrible feelings - so we fight it and freak out and we sometimes forget to cope. So run. Or meditate. Get a massage. Ask for a hug. Write. Breathe. Something. Just remind yourself that you are not crazy and Do. Something.

3) It's necessary to do something to actively deal with the feelings but often this isn't enough. Catharsis - getting energy out - is typically not enough to deal with it and ultimately feel better. We have to think about it, make meaning of it, understand it. That's why every time I would slow down during my run, the anger would bubble back up - because I was still thinking about my stressors in the same unhelpful, inaccurate way ("What the hell is wrong with my baby?!?!, "I want to kill my husband!!!", etc).  I needed to THINK through what happened, understand it differently ("Nothing is wrong with my baby - she's just a baby"; "My husband is stressed and human too") in order to actually feel better and move past it.

And here's the final take away, which will be familiar to those of you who follow my blog or know me. Now would be the time that I post this and immediately old fears come up. Cue the worry: "But my family and friends might worry about me", "My clients, current or future, might think I'm crazy"; "What if I am kinda crazy??".  And then the kind, compassionate, wise part of myself starts to whisper again about vulnerability. About how what ultimately connects us as humans being more than anything else is authenticity. The courage to put ourselves out there, the good, the bad, the ugly.  Even if it's scary.

So here I am. Human, occasionally wounded....but stronger every day.

What does your monster look like?  How do you deal?  I would love to hear about it on my Facebook page 

**This was written over 2 months ago and only now am I finding the time to edit it and post.  Yeah...shit's crazy.

"Enjoy Every Minute" - Major Parenting Myth Debunked

"Enjoy every minute".  "It goes by all too quickly".  "You'll want this time back".  

How many times have you heard it Mama?  The sweet smiles and unsolicited advice you get from strangers probably on a daily basis if you have little ones.  We are told over and over and over again to enjoy every minute and not to take this time for granted.

Don't get me wrong.  I agree with this...for the most part.  Most of the time, I am acutely aware of how finite time is and so many of my parenting decisions are rooted in this awareness.  It's why I almost never leave my house before 8:30pm because I so value this precious chapter in life where I'm able to read stories and rock and sing to my babies before bed (the only ones who do not protest my singing voice).  It's why I work so hard to oblige my 3 year old every time he asks me to play or watch or listen even if it's the 33rd time I'm watching him jump the same monster truck over the same car.  I get it...I know I can't get this time back.  And it's precious.  I don't need convincing in this regard.  And yet...

It's NOT POSSIBLE to enjoy every second.  Can we just be honest about that??  I'm here to argue that it's not even ideal to try to soak up every second of these short chapters of our childrens' lives.  Yes, our children are beautiful and special and only small for a short period of time.  And we should be aware of that and milk it for all it's worth...*for the most part*.  BUT...how many times have I forced myself to put both my newbie and my toddler to bed after working a 10 hour day instead of giving myself a break because of this same logic?  How many times have I went out of my way to do something for one of my littles because I need to soak up this time and wound up feeling extra frustrated with my non-cooperating kid as a result?  How many times have I made a parenting decision in order to avoid GUILT as opposed to experience PLEASURE.  I'm embarrassed to admit it...but I don't think I'm alone either.

Parenting used to be something that people just did.  They didn't put a lot of thought into it, they didn't read about it a whole lot.  They just did it.  We've come a long way since those times and parents are more involved and educated than ever before.  And so much of that is good.  When you know better, you do better and all that jazz.

But parenting is almost becoming cult-like in some ways.  There are strict and rigid rules and people are judged harshly and almost demonized for not adhering to the unwritten rules - for not ascribing to the dogma of the new wave of parenting (read: I must enjoy every minute.  I must feel insane love for my newborn baby.  I must feel tremendous guilt for wanting to work).

God forbid we're honest about we feel.  God forbid someone say that it took them weeks to truly feel love for their baby (ahem, me with my second).  God forbid we occasionally choose a glass of wine and a terrible TV show over putting our children to bed every single night because we value our sanity as much as we value our children (something I don't ever allow myself to do).  God forbid if we feel HAPPY to go back to work after maternity leave as opposed to tearful and guilt-stricken (me...both times).

There!  I said it!!  GASP!  The Horror!!!!   I love my children to the moon, I think they are two of the most beautiful, incredible little people on the planet.  I would move mountains for them, die for them, kill for them.  Truly.  And yet...I still said all of those things above.

So there it is.  It feels good to just be honest.  So many of us don't allow ourselves to be honest because we fear the judgement from others (and ourselves!) and I get that.  I obviously struggle with that too.  But it keeps us isolated.  It makes us feel bad about ourselves because all we see is everyone else making it look so easy and it doesn't feel easy for us.  BUT IT'S BECAUSE IT'S NOT EASY!!

So I'm making a deal with myself to strive for BALANCE as opposed to being the *perfect* parent and "enjoying every moment".  I still want to put my kids to bed at night...but maybe I'll make it most nights as opposed to every night.  Because dammit, The Good Wife and a glass of Shiraz every now and then will make me a happier Mommy ;)

What about you?  How does the religion of parenting affect your parenting decisions?  What do you do to find more balance in your life?

How Your Past Haunts You In Ways You May Not Even Know

I was standing in the shower, getting ready to settle in for the evening, when I felt something snake down my back, my leg and my ankle.  Somewhat alarmed, I looked down to see what could cause that strange sensation and I saw a huge clump of my hair tangled around my heel.

I momentarily stopped breathing and a feeling of panic came over me.  I opened my mouth to call for my husband, but nothing came out.  I could hear my heartbeat, increasing by the second, in my ears.

Then the air returned, my heart rate slowed down and I remembered what was going on: I'm several weeks postpartum and your hair falls out.  Right...I remember now.  It's as though the Universe has decided that you no longer need the gift it gave you as a reward during your pregnancy (amazing, thick hair) because you have your little bundle of joy so it takes it all back.  As if postpartum hormones, extra weight and getting to know your newborn aren't enough fun things to manage, now you have bald patches.  Awesome.  But the good news is that this is totally normal and expected and I know from going through this before, I will not go completely bald even though you would think that if you saw my drain after every shower.

So why did I freak out?  Flash back about 20 years...

I was standing in my shower, washing my hair and felt something snake down my back, my leg and my ankle.  Somewhat alarmed, I looked down to see what could cause that strange sensation and I saw a huge clump of my hair tangled around my heel...and even more wrapped around both sets of fingers.  The only difference is that 20 years ago I was in fact going bald because the chemotherapy I was receiving for my cancer had finally killed off enough cancer cells (and unfortunately all fast growing cells) that I was ACTUALLY losing my hair.  And not just some of it, but all of it.  As a 15 year old girl and a freshman in high school, it was the moment that I had been dreading since I started chemo...and here it was.  I LOST IT...and I don't mean my hair.  I mean my sanity.  In that moment, I lost it.  Not necessarily because of the hair, per se (although my teenage self might argue differently), but because my hair falling out made the diagnosis real.  My parents needed to literally drag me out of the shower that night and I don't remember anything else about that evening.  It's not the kind of thing that comes to mind when you hear the word "trauma", but make no mistake about it: it was traumatic.

So that's what was going on the other day in the shower.  Something totally ordinary and not upsetting was happening, but because it was so similar to something terrible that happened a long time ago, I was right back there.  Crazy huh?  Here's why: there's a part of our brains that doesn't understand time, context, person (better known as the amygdala for all you brain-loving folk).  The amygdala's main job?  FEELINGS.  Intense feelings, specifically, like rage and fear.  What makes this more interesting is when the amygdala gets involved, it overrides other areas of the brain (frontal lobe) that we could really benefit from at times like this.  So when we're reminded of something awful from our past, the human, rational part of our brain effectively shuts down, and the animal, emotional, irrational part of our brain kicks into high gear.  Sounds like a recipe for disaster right?

Why am I telling you all of this?  Because if this process is taking place in your life and you're not aware that's what is going on, it can cause major problems!  This is for the woman who was sexually assaulted earlier in her life who doesn't feel like she can have a "normal" sex life with her husband because she freaks out every time he touches her.  This is for the man who shuts down completely whenever he feels criticized (even if that's not what's happening) because he feels like a scared little boy again being berated by his father.  This is for the woman who cannot engage in any form of conflict because it's too reminiscent of the arguments her parents would always get into right before her Dad started throwing punches.  This crazy neurological wiring that is there to help us and keep us safe can sometimes wind up causing major problems.

Here's the beauty of it: when you know what's going on in those moments (and now you do!) and you don't make yourself feel worse by assuming you must be crazy (which you totally aren't!!), you start to take back some of your control...some of your power.  You can start to think through your reaction rather than just react.  And that allows you to talk about it (might need to read this for that), continue to make sense of it and heal from whatever it is all over again.  That might be all you need.  Or you might decide that you need a professional to help work through some of that.  But either way, you're moving in a direction where YOU get to control your life rather than your past.  And THAT is pretty damn cool.

The Two Things You Need To Do To Survive Overwhelming Moments

I sit here typing with my newborn sleeping in her Moby strapped to my chest and my toddler playing happily next to me at our kitchen table with his cloud dough and monster trucks.  It's quiet (with the exception of some Uptown Funk - who wants to listen to Sesame Street songs all day??) and everyone is content.  I feel like a Pinterest pin.  It's lovely.  Big sigh.  However, if we were to rewind and take a peek at the Friday 4 weeks ago, you would've seen a totally different picture.  My brand new baby would've been crying from her bouncer while my toddler's face turned purple screaming at me while I scrambled to meet everyone's needs and would fail over and over again at this unattainable goal.  To say that I was super overwhelmed is putting it mildly.  That was only a couple months ago.  The difference between now and then is STAGGERING.  And it made me think about how quickly we turn a problem into something bigger because of what we stack on top of it.

We all have real problems - problems that anyone would struggle with in the same situation - but often it's what we do with those problems that either makes the problems seem bigger or smaller.  The last few weeks have been hell for me - the learning curve of parenting two, especially a 3 year old and a newborn, has been steep.  But I think it would've been less painful if I hadn't thrown a bunch of my own stuff on top of it.  When #1 (L) was having a really epic tantrum, instead of just giving him and myself a break, recognizing this is just part of the process of adding another human to our family, I automatically started to worry that I wasn't handling his anger well.  Or that something was wrong with him because of how intense his anger was.  When #2 (B) would go through this insane cycle of nurse, throw up, nurse, throw up, I would worry that it would always be like this, rather than a small chapter in her very little life.

Of course I logically knew that L was just adjusting and B was simply a brand new baby and they do weird things, but emotionally it felt like it was going to be like this FOREVER.  And from that emotional place, I felt like screaming, "I can't do this!!", "What is wrong with me?", "What is wrong with THEM??", "I'm a failure!".  You get the idea.  I took this totally normal, albeit difficult, problem (the adjustment of one child to two) and turned it into 1) a character flaw in myself; 2) something permanent.

But we all do this to some extent.  We get into a fight with our husband and go to a dark place of either "I'm so f*cked up" OR "Why did I marry him?".  We screw up at our jobs and spend the rest of the worrying that we'll get fired.  We get a letter from our child's teacher saying that s/he did something bad at school and we automatically start to worry that we're terrible parents or that our child will have problems for the rest of his/her life.  Right??  We don't always do this and certain things trigger us more than others, but this cycle happens to the best of us at one time or another.  We take a totally normal, but difficult problem and make it more difficult for ourselves with shame, blame and judgment.

So how do we get out of this cycle?  Well let's be honest...to some extent, we don't :/  We're human and when difficult things happen, sometimes we're not going to deal with it exactly the way we would like.  So that's step 1: Let yourself off the hook.  Freak out a little.  Cry until you run out of tears.  Lose your temper.  Is this ideal?  Of course not...but it's human.  And you're human.  So if you spend all of your time trying to suppress your feelings and/or beating yourself up for having undesirable feelings/thoughts/reactions, you're just going to make the problem worse.  So let it happen (because it's probably going to anyway!) and give yourself grace.  There ya have it.  Step 2: Just. Breathe.  When things feel overwhelming and intolerable, when you feel like a messed up idiot, when you wonder if things will ever get better...just breathe.  Just get through that moment.  Don't worry about the next hour, let alone the next day.  Just breathe and focus on whats directly in front of you.  Because it will get better...you just have to breathe and wait patiently for that to happen.

PS - I wrote this post a couple of weeks ago and am just getting around to finishing it and posting now.  So rest assured...even when it's easier, it's still crazy ;)

How about you?  What do you do when you're feeling really overwhelmed?

The Struggle To Not Be a Helicopter Parent

Hey folks!  Been awhile.  What's new?  Well for me, I had a baby so sh*t's been a little crazy!  But we're slowly adjusting and I'd like to get back to writing when my children cooperate.  And right now my 3 year old is napping and my newbie is strapped to my chest so we're good to go!

Ever since Brooklyn was born, I've been incredibly dizzy.  I've always had low blood pressure so I'm accustomed to a certain amount of dizziness, but this has been nuts.  Now I'm obviously not a medical doctor, but I know a fair amount about what can make a person dizzy and I know one of the main culprits is STRESS and more specifically, improper breathing due to stress.  So I started to pay attention and sure enough...I'm practically holding my breath constantly (Is she awake yet?  Are her and Linc going to wake up at the same time?  Who do I feed first??  What if they're both screaming??).   See folks, I've always been a mildly anxious person, having a double whammy of genetics (thank you Mom and Dad ;)) and life events that reinforced the anxiety.  It's never been debilitating by any means,  but I've worked hard for many years to keep it in check and prevent it from interfering with my quality of life...and I think I've done a damn good job if I do say so myself.

Fast forward to this morning when my husband and I had our kids at the park.  Brooklyn is constantly attached to me so it was a rare and beautiful 30 minutes when B was asleep and could hang out with Nick on a park bench and I could play with my son.  He's just shy of 3, but is physically more like a 4 year old and therefore tries to do things other 3 year olds can't do.  Rock climbing walls, monkey bars, very tall ladders...all by himself.  This is where I catch myself not breathing and begin an internal struggle with myself.  The Mama Grizzy, anxious part of me wants to hover over him, helicopter parent style, and answer all of his questions about which way he should go, be there to catch him when he falls, make sure the actual 4 and 5 years olds aren't pushing him over, etc, etc.

But then there's the psychologist part of me.  The part of me that knows that the only way to develop real self-esteem is to do something over and over again until you are good at it.  You don't feel good about yourself simply because your Mom told you "good job" endlessly as a kid.  That part of me knows that the only way you develop self-confidence is by falling down, physically and metaphorically, and picking yourself back up.  You don't grow up feeling confident in your abilities if your Mom was always there to catch you and you were never allowed the opportunity to realize that you can recover on your own.  That part of me knows that it's important to push yourself and to take (appropriate) risks in order to keep growing, learning and enjoying life.  You wind up missing out on a whole lot of life if you feel confined to your comfort zone and too scared to push yourself to test your own limits.

So I let him climb the ladder that is meant for 5 year olds, while I watch patiently (and anxiously) watch from nearby.  When he asks me which way is the "right way" to  go through a maze to get to the slide that he wants, I tell him that he should give whatever way he wants a try and if he's wrong, he can simply try again.  And when he inevitably falls or bumps his heads, I'll be right there to kiss it and make it all better.

What about you guys?  Is it hard to watch your children take risks, learn the hard way or fail in some way?  How do you decide when to help and when to let them learn on their own?  Would love to hear about your adventures in parenting :)

Mommy Wars: Why They Happen and Your Role in Stopping Them

So this is how my day started today: I always wake up an hour earlier than my son so that I can have a little bit of alone time to enjoy and get organized for the day.  Well today, he decided to wake up 15 minutes after I did (read: no alone time for Mommy) and I soon discovered why: he had a gigantic, watery poop that had leaked all over himself, his pajamas and his bed.  Understandably, he wasn't very happy about it.  (PS - This has been going on for days now, often times in the middle of the night.  Docs said it's the tail end of a stomach virus and the nasty stuff coming out of his butt may continue to do that for another two weeks.  Joy.)  So I'm changing a screaming toddler's diaper, his clothes and throwing in a load of disgusting laundry, careful to pick out the chunks of poop so that all the rest of our clothes for the next week do not have fecal remnants on them.  Have I mentioned that I'm also terribly uncomfortable because I'm going to have a baby any day now?  Or that my husband needs to leave for work before most people's alarms even go off so I was doing this alone?  Anyway, I digress.  Then I have to get us ready for the day, walk to an L stop (because we don't have space for a second car), take the L with him to school, while it's pouring out mind you, and walk another few blocks to his school.  Then I walk myself back to the L, take the L downtown to work, and walk to my office.  In the rain.  Almost 39 weeks pregnant.  Uphill (I kid).  But you get the point.

Why do I tell you all of this?  I swear I'm not throwing a pity party for myself (although I do that at times as well).  I'm telling you this because on the last leg of my journey, I felt really impressed with myself.  I felt like a bonafide, bad-ass Superhero for being able to parent my child in a way I felt good about (despite him acting OBNOXIOUSLY) and continue to be successful at work all while insanely pregnant (and super uncomfortable).  I felt so proud of myself for making it through the morning without losing my temper, bursting into tears or falling down a set of slippery stairs on an L platform, that I wanted to shout it from the rooftops...or in today's world and my geographical location, post it on Facebook for everyone to see.  But I immediately started to wonder...  If I do that, will I offend full time stay at home Moms if I include that part of the reason that I'm proud of myself is that I work 3 days a week?  Will people think I'm bragging and therefore obnoxious??  What if I make another Mom feel terrible because she had a similar shitty morning (get it?? ;)) and doesn't feel as good about the way she handled it??

Now some of this is just me: me being over-sensitive and over-thinking things, both of which I'm constantly guilty of.  But some of this is our culture.  It's the "Mommy Wars" culture that we live in. (If "Mommy Wars" is not a concept you are familiar with, you HAVE to watch this hilarious, accurate and surprisingly touching commercial that you can find in the Mommy Wars link above).

Mommy Wars is basically the idea where instead of celebrating how bad ass we ALL are as parents, we tear each other down.  We judge others for how they parent: if they breastfeed or don't, work or don't, for how they discipline, how they love, how they live.  It's crazy...but we're all guilty of it.  And it gets in the way of us celebrating all of the amazing things we do every minute of every day.

If Mommy Wars is so terrible and makes us all ultimately feel bad, why do we do it??  Here's my two cents: Being a parent, and perhaps especially a Mom, is so all consuming from jump.  For most of us, it starts to change us the moment we see a plus sign on that stick we just peed on.  And because it's all consuming and changes us so much and often feels like the most important thing we could ever do...we're a little (or in some cases) a LOT sensitive about it.  We have researched or read or over-thought so many of our parent-related decisions that to have someone question what we do or simply choose something else, can feel like a slap in the face.  It doesn't just feel like a challenge to our decision...it can start to feel like a challenge to WHO WE ARE.  And that's really tough to deal with.

So how do we deal with this?  Well at some point we probably get defensive.  We feel the need to justify our decisions, to explain our rationale for doing something a certain way...or we tear down someone else's opinion/decision.  Why do we do this?  Because we're mean, terrible, judgmental people....?  Wrong!  We are prone to doing this because at that particular moment, it feels like the only thing we can do to hold on to who we are.  It feels like if we don't defend/justify/condemn - if we don't make the other person feel in the wrong - then we feel like WE are in the wrong.  And being in the wrong about a parenting decision - something that may deeply affect our children (or not but it probably FEELS that way ;)) - can feel like the WORST thing we could EVER do.  Is this rational?  No.  Is this way of handling a tough situation deliberate or well thought out?  Absolutely not.  But that's the way it plays out at some point regardless.

So how can we do better?  Well it's complicated, but at it's most basic, I think it comes down to a combination of my last two posts about vulnerability and judgment.  I think part of it is allowing ourselves to be vulnerable.  For me today, vulnerability would've been posting on Facebook about feeling like a superhero (which I didn't do, but I am writing this post ;)).  What would it be for you?  Would it be allowing yourself to tell someone you care about that you're not sure you made the right decision when you decided to..... (insert work, not work, breastfeed, not breastfeed, etc).  Would it be allowing yourself to tell someone you love what an awesome day of parenting you had without worrying about whether you sounded like you were "bragging"?  Think about it - what do you hold back saying for fear of judgment?  Next time you notice yourself holding back, instead try saying it to someone who is safe to take a risk with.  The next part is to try not to judge as much and instead, notice the insecurity that's behind the desire to judge.  When your inclination is to justify, rationalize, defend or judge someone else's lifestyle/choice/decision, rather than focus on them, focus on YOU.  Why are you feeling the need to do that?  What about YOUR lifestyle/choices/decisions are you feeling ambivalent about?  And then once your figure that out, you....you guessed it: talk to someone about it!  And be vulnerable all over again.

When you do this, a different cycle is born.  Instead of judgment, which leads to defensiveness, which leads to more judgment and distance we're now talking about a cycle of vulnerability, which leads to honesty, which leads to understanding, which leads to connection.  Because ya know what?  I am a Superhero.  And you, Mommy (or Daddy!), are too.  Now doesn't that sound nice?

Vulnerability: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

Vulnerability.  It's a word I deal with all of the time in therapy, but also just by being the person that I am.  Anyone who knows me, knows that most of the time, vulnerability doesn't really feel like something I choose - it's just the main way that I know how to operate.  I feel things deeply and wear my heart on my sleeve - always have.  But there are other times when I make a conscious decision to be vulnerable and in those moments I'm reminded about just how difficult of a choice that can be.

This blog has prompted that choice point for me.  Initially, I was writing articles as a doctor - an expert; trying to teach people something they didn't previously know.  I thought it was important to have a specific skill or set of knowledge to communicate, have it backed by research and reveal very little of myself, because as a psychologist, self-disclosure is a no-no.  But the posts felt stale to me.  Academic.  Impersonal.  I wasn't passionate about what I was writing and it was coming through in the posts.  So I was left with a difficult decision: continue to be the "expert" and teach OR be a human being (who just happens to also be a psychologist), which meant disclosing my struggles, flaws and weaknesses.  That's always a difficult thing to do, but as a therapist, it felt even more challenging.  What if my colleagues thought that was a terrible decision?  What if my patients saw my posts and had negative reactions?  The anxiety I felt about potential judgment was pretty intense and I struggled with which direction to take.

If you've been following me though, you obviously know what I decided...and I'm glad that I did.  Because pretty much every time I can remember that I have chosen to be vulnerable - to reveal a part of myself that I don't like, to share something intensely private, to disclose something sensitive - I wind up feeling more connected than ever to others because something magical happens.  Other people start being honest too.  People suddenly feel like it's Ok to share their struggles, flaws and weaknesses.  The mask comes off, the walls come down and where there was distance and guards up, there is now openness.  Freedom.  Space.  People sharing not only the good, but the bad and the ugly too.

So many of us feel the need to keep up appearances in daily life and social media has made this worse to a significant degree.  We only talk about the happy times and show the parts of ourselves that we're proud of.  Checking the homepage on Facebook is picture after status update after picture of smiling faces, happy memories and good times.  I don't say that with judgment - I do it too.  And to a large extent that seems appropriate.  It would seem like a strange breech of boundaries to share our darkest thoughts and struggles with 500+ people on a regular basis.  And at the same time, it's a shame we don't use this enormous community to get support on a more regular basis.  What's worse is the fact that so many of us feel like we can't even confide in our closest friends or family because we fear burdening them with our problems and pain.  Since so many of us have this mentality, it means that we're all struggling silently and privately, putting on a happy face when we need to, but when it comes down to it, isolated with our struggles and feeling alone to boot.

What would it be like to take that risk and share your struggle with someone else?  To allow yourself to cry in the presence of someone you trust?  To give someone the privilege of seeing behind the curtain of your life in order to acknowledge that your career/marriage/children are not as wonderful as they may seem to be?  Can you imagine?  It sounds scary, I'm sure.  With good reason.  I was scared as hell to admit in a public forum the awful thoughts that went through my head about that thin, pregnant model.  But ya know what happened?  That post was read by more people and received more comments and positive feedback than anything else I've written.  There could be a hundred reasons for that, but I'm pretty sure a lot of it had to do with the fact that people tend to respond very kindly to other's humanity.  So maybe the next time you're struggling with something, instead of burying it or distracting yourself from it, talk to someone you love.  My guess is that you'll be amazed at what happens next :)

PS - If the concept of vulnerability intrigues you, you should definitely check out Brene Brown: http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability?language=en  She is incredible!!