As promised, today I write more about the particulars of my every day struggles.
I have a history of depression that started in my childhood. At the beginning, I was convinced that my feelings and actions were a normal result of the stressors in my life. I learned when I got into college, that somehow everyone around me was able to function perfectly well with similar or worse struggles, and on top of that manage to be happy. Since that time, I have come to accept that depression itself is one of my struggles and it is reasonable and "normal", but that I can choose to find happiness through depression.
This was something I learned through postpartum depression particularly. The worst part of PPD for me was the guilt. I felt like I was choosing to be miserable and angry about something wonderful and beautiful. I would get mad at my daughter for not being an "easy baby". I would feel like her cries and needs were a judgement of me.
Sometime in the future, I will expound upon this struggle and how I got through it. For now, suffice it to say that I got help.
*If you think you may be suffering from depression, please, please, please find someone, or many someones, you trust to help you. It is not only difficult, but lonely and often worsening to try to try to get through it by yourself. I am able to see things the way I do now because of the great support that I now have.*
Many days, I still struggle to remind myself that my daughter's misbehavior is not her way of telling me I'm a bad mother. I have to stop myself from thinking she acts up solely out of a desire to make me batty. I have to consciously remember that my child, and every child, is an individual, like me.
When I was a kid, my thought process never went "Mom told me not to do that. I think it would be fun to do it, so that she knows she's a horrible person.", or "This would make Mom's day really hard, so I'm going to do it-and then find something dangerous to do". My only thoughts were of having fun and doing things that make me happy.
My sweet, and heart attack inducing, daughter didn't just try to climb the outside of the banister, over a ceramic tile floor, because it scares me. She is adventurous and daring in her own right, and I am very much the same. Her purpose in yelling at her cousin and stealing her toys was not to confound my teachings of love and compassion. My daughter has her own desires, personal only to herself. Right now they may seem selfish and superficial, but after all she is two, and what is my job as a parent if not to teach her to be a successful and whole person, including the ability to think about how her actions affect others.
It is a very big success when I am able to direct my daughter in using that desire for fun and happiness in a positive, productive way.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
celebrating success
After over a year of more important things than blogging, I have discovered a desire to explain my blog title.
I feel that any success in life should be celebrated.
All too often, we focus on needing to do big fantastic things with our lives. We teach children that they can do anything, be anything, by using examples of people who have had great success, that have changed the course of history. Abraham Lincoln started in a log cabin in Illinois. Martin Luther King gathered a nation to fight for equality. Steve Jobs made millions out of his brilliance making products people think they need. We focus so much on these big successes that not being a well known, brilliant, rich, powerful person becomes a failure.
It's just not true.
I am a success.
I succeed as a parent. I succeed as a woman. I succeed as an adult overcoming her fears.
My small successes may seem trite and insignificant compared to the work of Mother Theresa or Ghandi. I may not be saving thousands of lives or souls. I had no more time or energy than to get myself and my daughters dressed this morning, but I did that! I got us dressed and fed and fought through the trials that every day presents me with (more on that tomorrow).
My lovely child shouts "I did it!" every time she does anything herself. She constantly asks, "Mommy, I try it?" and leaps at the opportunity to experience something new. She isn't disappointed with herself for not being a YouTube sensation, or child prodigy. She is happy in her everyday accomplishments.
Celebrate yourself and the marvelous things you can do every day!
There are no "small" successes!
I feel that any success in life should be celebrated.
All too often, we focus on needing to do big fantastic things with our lives. We teach children that they can do anything, be anything, by using examples of people who have had great success, that have changed the course of history. Abraham Lincoln started in a log cabin in Illinois. Martin Luther King gathered a nation to fight for equality. Steve Jobs made millions out of his brilliance making products people think they need. We focus so much on these big successes that not being a well known, brilliant, rich, powerful person becomes a failure.
It's just not true.
I am a success.
I succeed as a parent. I succeed as a woman. I succeed as an adult overcoming her fears.
My small successes may seem trite and insignificant compared to the work of Mother Theresa or Ghandi. I may not be saving thousands of lives or souls. I had no more time or energy than to get myself and my daughters dressed this morning, but I did that! I got us dressed and fed and fought through the trials that every day presents me with (more on that tomorrow).
My lovely child shouts "I did it!" every time she does anything herself. She constantly asks, "Mommy, I try it?" and leaps at the opportunity to experience something new. She isn't disappointed with herself for not being a YouTube sensation, or child prodigy. She is happy in her everyday accomplishments.
So, rather than grading our success on a spectrum, comparing it to that of others, making it a competition, and making ourselves feel obsolete, we ought to be shouting from the rooftops, "I did a good thing!".
Celebrate yourself and the marvelous things you can do every day!
There are no "small" successes!
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
praising children
It makes me so happy when I read through parenting books or articles and come across bits about how important it is to praise a child. I try to always give my daughter praise for every little thing she gets right. It has proven to be a very effective way to manage her behavior. As all these articles and books have promised, she seeks it out now. When she does something I've told her to do, she even claps for herself, sometimes before I do. It has made me so proud to see her pick her toys up and look at me expectantly, or stop cold when I tell her "no" and wait for her "good girl". What satisfies my parenting ego all the more though, is to see her begin to praise other people for their good behavior. A few days ago, I was babysitting a two year old. He is in that stage where he enjoys doing things for himself. Olivia saw him put a toy in the toy box when he was finished with it, and she started clapping!
I think it is very easy to focus on the things we don't want our kids to do, and how to stop them, or on the big stepping stones, like potty training. But I agree wholeheartedly that it is equally, and possibly more important, to teach kids that their everyday successes don't go unnoticed
I think it is very easy to focus on the things we don't want our kids to do, and how to stop them, or on the big stepping stones, like potty training. But I agree wholeheartedly that it is equally, and possibly more important, to teach kids that their everyday successes don't go unnoticed
Monday, February 13, 2012
.... or small problems....
I just want to say before I start this that I love all my friends, no matter what, and I will always have time for you. And, this is not directed at anyone particularly, just something I have observed over the years.
Life is hard. There's no question. Somehow, our own difficulties always seem much worse than someone else's. To make matters worse, someone else usually trivializes our problems (often unintentionally). The only way, I feel, that we can prevent these hurts piling on hurts is to stop comparing our scars and wounds. No one has the exact same life as any other person, but more importantly, no one experiences any one situation the same way. Whether someone is upset about a death of someone close to them or a promotion they should have gotten that went to someone else, if it's important to them, I try to respect that feeling. I would hate to think that when I confided in a friend that I was struggling with something that they might think I'm being overly sensitive, that I need to "suck it up", or that their problems are worse and more important than my own. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I just wish everyone could be respectful and sensitive to the people around them. I don't buy into the whole walk a mile in someone's shoes bit, because I think it takes much more than a mile to understand another point of view, if you even ever can. I prefer to accept people without judgement, and be there for them in a way that they can accept and understand. Otherwise, instead of helping people, you end up gratifying your ego. It degrades to a competition of complaints, a competition in which there are no winners.
Life is hard. There's no question. Somehow, our own difficulties always seem much worse than someone else's. To make matters worse, someone else usually trivializes our problems (often unintentionally). The only way, I feel, that we can prevent these hurts piling on hurts is to stop comparing our scars and wounds. No one has the exact same life as any other person, but more importantly, no one experiences any one situation the same way. Whether someone is upset about a death of someone close to them or a promotion they should have gotten that went to someone else, if it's important to them, I try to respect that feeling. I would hate to think that when I confided in a friend that I was struggling with something that they might think I'm being overly sensitive, that I need to "suck it up", or that their problems are worse and more important than my own. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I just wish everyone could be respectful and sensitive to the people around them. I don't buy into the whole walk a mile in someone's shoes bit, because I think it takes much more than a mile to understand another point of view, if you even ever can. I prefer to accept people without judgement, and be there for them in a way that they can accept and understand. Otherwise, instead of helping people, you end up gratifying your ego. It degrades to a competition of complaints, a competition in which there are no winners.
Monday, January 30, 2012
the little red fail meter
To be a parent is to live not quite on the edge of certainty.
I have always been a confident, independent person. I weighed my options. I made decisions. I lived confidently with whatever consequences came. When I learned I was pregnant, two years ago, I continued to act with this self assurance. In the hospital, having just given birth, I had no doubts. As soon as I got my beautiful, tiny bundle in our very small, very crunchable car, however, my entire thought process changed. Suddenly, everything was frought with potential danger. I quickly realized I was ignorant and emotional and driven by instinct. I cleverly hid these facts behind the decisions I had made when I was well rested (compared to my new sleepless, hagard state) and sane. I maniacally stuck to breastfeeding (which for our first month together meant attempted nursing my daughter, followed by a breastmilk bottle feeding and similtaneous pumping), though my preemie daughter could not suckle. I "taught" more experienced parents how to hold and burp and rock my precious child. I worked myself into exhaustion and depression because I didn't know what else I could do.
My daughter had slept in her crib across the room from me until finally, seven long months later, I determined I was doing something wrong. I was at the end of my tether. I could no longer function. I continued to wake up, now every three hours to nurse her back to sleep, which was the method I had set myself on after much research during my pregnancy.
So, after much shifting and cleaning of what was the office, my daughter got her own room. That day now seems an eternity ago, but one thing has not changed- the red light on the baby monitor that indicates the level of noise being made on the other end. When I can hear her, but not see the light on the devilish device, I feel like a good parent, training my child to soothe herself, allowing her to gain confidence, allowing myself to do the dishes. However, when I see that red light climb to it's peak with each cry, I feel like the most miserable failure to ever bear a child. It is as if every success I have ever had is meaningless because this wretched machine went from a harmless flat green to a glaring red glow.
Parents are not, on the whole, any dumber or less knowledgeable than those who have not reproduced, or than their pre-reproduction selves. We don't loose the ability to reason; we simply have a better view of how the butterfly's wings can cause a hurricane, and an instinctual need to prevent it from the source. Because of this, we second, third and tenth guess ourselves, constantly worrying that whatever decision we go with today will prove to cause some bigger problem tomorrow. We are surrounded by people and things that attempt to tell us that our choices are wrong-there are countless studies to prove it. The truth is, we, parents- not the general public, not emotionless red lighted machinery, or the ad department of Huggies, Johnson and Johnson or Fisher Price- WE were entrusted to care for our children and teach them to be independent and confident.
I have always been a confident, independent person. I weighed my options. I made decisions. I lived confidently with whatever consequences came. When I learned I was pregnant, two years ago, I continued to act with this self assurance. In the hospital, having just given birth, I had no doubts. As soon as I got my beautiful, tiny bundle in our very small, very crunchable car, however, my entire thought process changed. Suddenly, everything was frought with potential danger. I quickly realized I was ignorant and emotional and driven by instinct. I cleverly hid these facts behind the decisions I had made when I was well rested (compared to my new sleepless, hagard state) and sane. I maniacally stuck to breastfeeding (which for our first month together meant attempted nursing my daughter, followed by a breastmilk bottle feeding and similtaneous pumping), though my preemie daughter could not suckle. I "taught" more experienced parents how to hold and burp and rock my precious child. I worked myself into exhaustion and depression because I didn't know what else I could do.
My daughter had slept in her crib across the room from me until finally, seven long months later, I determined I was doing something wrong. I was at the end of my tether. I could no longer function. I continued to wake up, now every three hours to nurse her back to sleep, which was the method I had set myself on after much research during my pregnancy.
So, after much shifting and cleaning of what was the office, my daughter got her own room. That day now seems an eternity ago, but one thing has not changed- the red light on the baby monitor that indicates the level of noise being made on the other end. When I can hear her, but not see the light on the devilish device, I feel like a good parent, training my child to soothe herself, allowing her to gain confidence, allowing myself to do the dishes. However, when I see that red light climb to it's peak with each cry, I feel like the most miserable failure to ever bear a child. It is as if every success I have ever had is meaningless because this wretched machine went from a harmless flat green to a glaring red glow.
Parents are not, on the whole, any dumber or less knowledgeable than those who have not reproduced, or than their pre-reproduction selves. We don't loose the ability to reason; we simply have a better view of how the butterfly's wings can cause a hurricane, and an instinctual need to prevent it from the source. Because of this, we second, third and tenth guess ourselves, constantly worrying that whatever decision we go with today will prove to cause some bigger problem tomorrow. We are surrounded by people and things that attempt to tell us that our choices are wrong-there are countless studies to prove it. The truth is, we, parents- not the general public, not emotionless red lighted machinery, or the ad department of Huggies, Johnson and Johnson or Fisher Price- WE were entrusted to care for our children and teach them to be independent and confident.
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