My Children Are Not My Life

All of my life, I wanted to be a mother.

I mothered my dolls, my stuffed animals, and even my Barbies and Transformers. I thought that becoming a mother would complete me, would focus me, would center my world and make my life make sense. I was looking for healing in the act of caring for another.

I know I’m not alone in this.

The experience of mothering has taught me that I cannot give my all to someone else, to anyone else, not even the small humans I created from my own flesh and blood. They cannot be my world, they have to be their own worlds. They cannot be my reason for living, that is too much for those tiny shoulders to bear.

I have to live for me.

We toss around phrases like “giving 110%” and “giving my all” as if those words don’t have actual meanings. But there is no such thing as 110% and if I give my all to someone else then how do I survive? How do I possibly thrive?

If I don’t learn about myself, care for myself, grow and change and become more of myself, then how can I expect my children to do it?

How can I expect them to know that it’s possible or to internalize it as their birthright?

So no, I don’t give my children my all. I give according to what I have and what they need. And the more work I do on ME, the more I heal, the more I lean and learn, the more I have to give to them. It’s easy to type these words and so much harder to live them.

It means being honest with Adam about my needs, my weaknesses, my failings. It means prioritizing my mental, emotional, and physical health. It means doing that over and over again, choosing me over and over again, when so much of our society and the culture of motherhood tells me to do exactly the opposite.

I spend a ridiculous amount of time facing down my own demons. It’s fucking exhausting. The voice in my head that tells me I’m weak, I’m lazy, that I don’t follow through, that I can’t be counted on, that I never deserved these amazing people who surround me, and that one day they will all turn away from me - disgusted - that voice isn’t going away any time soon.

And yet…

I am a human being. I was born worthy of love, care, time, and attention. I was born worthy of joy. I was born worthy of rest. Of course, I’m also parenting human beings who were born worthy of all of those things. And I’m doing it in partnership with a human being who is worthy of the same.

It’s not a balancing act. There’s rarely a balance or any time when the ledgers come close to adding up. That’s not how life works.

It’s an intricate and complicated juggling act and I’m not alone in it. As I keep balls spinning through the air there are also those that Adam and I toss back and forth. There are times I back up as he moves forward. There are times that friends, family, doctors, therapists, teachers, and coaches toss balls in or catch them. As our children grow we’re learning how to teach them to juggle as well.

And sometimes it all comes crashing down. Sometimes there’s a mad scramble to pick up all of the balls that go spinning and bouncing through the corners of our lives. Sometimes we break one, or lose one, and it HURTS.

But I cannot be the world for my children. I cannot stand in the center and keep all of the balls in the air, cut off from everyone but them, responsible for everyone around them.

Ah… that’s a lie. I could.

I refuse to.

Instead, I reach out. And dammit, so many times there has been no one reaching back. So many times the firm grip I thought was support turned into a painful weight. There have been hands I reached for that held knives.

I kept reaching. I keep reaching.

None of us can do this alone, that’s something I know in my bones and in my soul. We, human beings, we were not meant to live this life alone and we damn sure were never meant to raise our children alone. But when we center our entire lives on our children we cut ourselves off from others and we cut ourselves off from our own humanity.

I am a whole human mama. I have dreams, I have a past, I have triumphs and failures, I have fears and joys, secret longings and public proclamations. Many of those have to do with my kids, but not all of them. My children are a huge part of my life, but they can never BE my life.

All of my life I wanted to be a mother.

I defined motherhood as giving and giving and giving and I was sure that in that giving I would receive what I needed.

Now I am a mother. I pour into my children every single day. I give to them in ways that they cannot fully comprehend yet. I give to Adam. I give to my friends and family. I give to the moms I work with and build community with.

And I give to me.

I had to step into the center of my life in order to begin to truly heal. I had to embrace my full humanity in order to begin to become the mother I really want to be, the mother my children deserve. I had to figure out how the hell to be enough for myself so that I can show them that they are enough for themselves, for everyone, always.