Life doesn’t always turn out the way you planned it. At least, not in the way you envision it. When I was younger and more or less naive, life just seemed simple. Yeah, we all had problems growing up–teasing and the like, but we can always come back to ourselves (hopefully) and ground ourselves. There was a sense that even in a relationship, you don’t lose yourself. You can be with someone but still be yourself. What we hoped for ourselves and what life turns out to be are two different realities.
Things didn’t happen quickly, it was gradual. In the beginning, I had a sense of autonomy. I could like what I like and just enjoy my interest. Endless things to talk about, because I still existed outside of a relationship. I had my hobbies, and in the very begging, this blog was one of them. It was my portal to connect to other people while I was staying at home and taking care of children, and eventually homeschooling.
Things were progressing , or so I thought. I was excited. I was connecting to other mothers, and the outer community and really finding a place for myself when it was hard to know myself outside of my role–wife. mother. Behind the scenes, things were very different. My existence continued to shrink. Increasingly, I had to keep things to myself in order to keep the peace. Words that was harmful, that I was later told it was just words. Things done or demanded and I was supposed to just go along with it.
Eventually, one word changed how I view blogging, my voice and my connection to people. Again, I was young. I valued their opinion, so when I was told I was being selfish I took it to heart. Honestly, who–besides myself, is supposed to know me well. Maybe I thought, I was missing something. Was I being selfish? Regardless. That one word, changed how this blog operated. I pulled back. Stop making videos. Stopped writing. My desire in it died–not to write. That was always there, but to think I had a voice and something to share was quieted. So, I became quiet. To keep the peace. I hoped that was enough. It wasn’t.
Things got harder. I picked up other hobbies that didn’t take time away from the family. Things I can pick up and put down. However, immediately when I first started to learn, I was compared to someone else and told that they were so much better. I switched hobbies after that. It didn’t matter much. Hobbies, teaching, there was always room for criticism. I heard it. I pushed back on it, many times–but my words were just invalidated. It went against their ideas, and therefore I was treated as irrational.
Time went on, it went on. Criticism, invaladiton, minimization. When I shared what was wrong, I was told I was too sensitive, and how I was messing things up. All of this was internalized over the years. I still had to function. I still had children to raise. A marriage to uphold to look perfect from the outside. Oh you have such a beautiful family, I would be told often. All the while thinking they don’t know. Behind the scenes, everything was not okay. I lost my voice to the public. I was just one role, and even that was a character within that role. The whole home was subjective to one person’s mood or behavior. If I went against it, it wasn’t good.
The idea of submission that I learned from growing up and the one I lived with was not the same. The submission I lived under was the premise that I can and needed to be controlled. It didn’t work for me. I was a person. I had autonomy, I had my own thoughts and ideas and interest. However, submission was catering to one person’s world and one person’s thought. If I didn’t agree with their premise, then I told I was being combative. If I had a different point of view, I was being oppositional on purpose. I approached the relationship as if we were on equal footing. I was treated as if I was beneath them. It got to point when I asked if I was an equal partner to them or just someone they could command. The question didn’t come out of no where. Over years how I was talked to, and treated made me finally ask. I shared our conversations with outsiders to see if it was just me. I was told that’s not how you speak to a spouse.
Over time, my desires for my interest diminished and I eventually lost myself. So many things that happened from that point until now. Too many things I don’t feel comfortable sharing outside of close friends and family, but finally, after a promise I made to myself–I am finding myself again. Seeking help, ending this cycle of self erasure. Loving myself, and helping my loved ones also get help that they need from experiencing this.
So what does this mean for this space now? I remember when I first made this blog. This blog’s name had two meanings to nursing. One was breastfeeding (something I was practically doing and thinking about blogging). The other meanings are cherishing, fostering, tending, attending. That is what I will be doing now. I will be nourishing, and cherishing myself. Giving myself the love and attention that I have poured into others that I so desperately needed to pour into myself. My children are not small (well not all of them, I already have 2 teens), my schedule is only crazy if I make it that way. But I cannot and will not continue to say I don’t have time, because I have to make the time.
What I know I cannot do is give you perfect content. Yeah, sometimes, my thoughts are going to be jumbled thoughts. Although I will try to do my best to make it coherent. My pictures will not be the best, some will be random, but they will be mine. Sometimes it will just be what I’m thinking, and you know what? That is okay. Even if I’m the only one to read it, it’s my log and journal. Either way, this is my attempt to get back into writing. Online has changed. The search engines has changed. It’s okay. Let this be just for me.
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