Coming Alive at BlogHer ’11

August 8, 2011 by ·

On the first day of BlogHer ’11, I stood up in front of a room full of bloggers and cried. If you know me, this won’t surprise you.

I went into the conference with high expectations. So high, I managed to work myself into a 4-day-long anxiety attack and by the time I left my neck and shoulders were so tight I could hardly turn my head.

I had decided I wasn’t going to fret about things I couldn’t really control or that ultimately don’t matter (to me, anyway). And I didn’t. I didn’t worry about what I was going to wear, whether I would have to sit by myself sometimes, or if people would like me. The clothes I wore reflected the real me, which was sometimes jeans and flip-flops. I went to some sessions with friends and others on my own. On those occasions I sat by myself, but I met someone new each time. And I don’t really care if some of the people I met didn’t like me, because I met many who did and I’ll forever be grateful I got to meet them and spend time with them in person.

No, I was worried about bigger things. Life altering things.

I went to BlogHer looking for reassurance, direction, and inspiration. I wanted to know that the message I’m trying to deliver matters. I wanted someone to point me in the right direction in my search to figure out how to do it. And I wanted to sit there, in a room full of strong, smart, sassy women, and feel alive.

I wanted big things. And that’s what I got.

It was Jess Weiner who made me cry. She’s an author and self-esteem expert and an absolutely bloody fantastic speaker. Over lunch on Pathfinder day, before the main conference started, she talked about self-esteem and criticism and how we treat each other, and I may have gotten a little worked up. When she invited comments I worked up the nerve to go up to the mic.

I care about this stuff, people. We’ve got to stop treating each other badly because of our own insecurities. There was definitely some nastiness going on at the conference, which I suppose is inevitable when you get 3,500 women together, but I ignored it. I don’t have time for that. It’s dumb. I’d rather be respectful and supportive and, yes, even open to the possibility that someone I haven’t met yet, or someone who’s not in the cool crowd, might be the next person I’m supposed to meet.

So yeah, I listened to her speak passionately about something I care about and I got up to share my perspective and I cried.

But you know what? Others did too. In several of the sessions I was in other women got up and asked a question about how to address something in their lives or shared how they have overcome their own hard stuff and there were tears.

San Diego marina at sunriseThat’s why I went to BlogHer. Because we all have a story. Because we all have something we care about. Because we’re all trying to find a place in a world with a million competing voices.

I am just one person. Just one out of billions on this Earth, and just one out of millions in the blog world. But I have a voice. And I got reassurance, direction and inspiration in how to use it.

I got to hear Gretchen Rubin observe that people craft stories others want to hear instead of telling the real truth.

I sat close to the front and listened to Brené Brown suggest writing that’s in control, that’s cool, is an emotional straight jacket. It’s boring. If something’s not uncomfortable for her to write about, she shared, it’s not worth sharing.

I crossed an item off my mental list of blogging anxieties when Shauna Ahearn asserted that we should write for community, for service, and for connections, and that doing so is better than writing for SEO or hits. I could do more to write for SEO, but it would kill part of my spirit – online and off.

I spent a whole day in a session with Karen Walrond, my blogging idol – my life idol, actually – and got to hear her story in person. I also got to ask her advice on how to get where I want to be, which she gave freely and in such simple terms that I came away feeling as though the one thing I wanted out of this conference – a vision – had crystallized.

I might have – just maybe, possibly – cried again when talking to her.

When asked to provide tips at the end of a session, Brené paraphrased a quote from Harold Thurman: “Don’t ask what your readers need. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it.”

In other words – like those from my tagline above – “Live the life you’re meant to.”

It was a great conference.

***

I have other things to say, like the total awesomeness of meeting people I’ve interacted with online and how fun and funny and totally beautiful that was, but that will have to be another post. In the meantime, know this: I loved you all.

Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With: , , , , ,

Hello, Inspiration: From My Heart

July 24, 2011 by ·

Inspiration, at times, is something simple but powerful.

This week I wrote a post in two parts. I used to think I would never share that story. I just couldn’t see how I could admit to that stuff.

As time went on, though, I knew I needed to write about it.

After conversations last week, I knew I needed to do write about it now so other people struggling with the same things could read it and know it’s okay. That it will be okay.

I wrote the whole thing and had a good cry. I went to bed, got up and revised and edited. I got my husband to read it to make sure he was okay with it and I asked him the question I’d been scared to ask for months.

I sat in front of my computer. I looked at my husband, who knew I could do it. So I held my breath and hit ‘publish’.

I held my breath for a long time.

I had no idea what kind of a response I’d get. I was sure some would be supportive (especially since I’d called on my #PPDChat army for back-up) but I was waiting for the haters.

They didn’t come.

I got nothing but amazing support. I got emails. I got DMs on Twitter. I got messages on Facebook.

I was totally overwhelmed. I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am for the support.

I also got messages from women who aren’t ready – who may never be ready – to admit publicly that this is an issue for them too but who wanted to reach out to someone who understands.

Knowing that sharing the hard parts of my story helps other people is inspiring. It’s why I write.

Odds are I will never be able to reach every mom who struggles with this and thinks she’s alone. But it doesn’t matter.

I’m inspired to try.

meant-to-do

Filed Under: Hello, Inspiration, Postpartum depression · Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Day Camp Does Not Equal Camping

July 2, 2011 by ·

We appear to have confused our son.

“Connor, did you know you’re going to camp next week? J will be there and you get to do all kinds of fun stuff with dinosaurs!”

“Yep!” Big smile.

The phone rings. It’s my mom.

“Grandma, J and I are going camping! And we’re going to have a fire and roast marshmallows!”

I hope dinosaur day camp isn’t a huge disappointment, otherwise we might be roasting marshmallows on our gas stove to make up for it.

 
Fire! Fire! III

Filed Under: Motherhood · Tagged With: ,

Things the Books Don’t Tell You

June 20, 2011 by ·

Just like most mamas-to-be, I had the pregnancy books. I read them. A lot. I also had the parenting books but I didn’t read those as much. I flipped through the sections on early milestones and advice on breastfeeding and how to stop being a maniac and checking 65 times a night to see if your baby is still breathing (kidding – sadly, none of the books I read offered advice on that).

I know there are books out there on toddlers – I probably even have some that address this stage, but I guarantee they don’t include stuff like this:

  1. One day your toddler will eat something normal for breakfast, like eggs or yogurt. The next day he will empty the whole cupboard looking for just the right thing, rejecting many options in the process, and then choose plain coarse bread crumbs. The day after he will insist on eating a tortilla. Just the tortilla – nothing in it or on it.
  2. Telling parents-to-be “what to expect” should really include the fact that offering the wrong bowl or spoon can lead to an epic meltdown.
  3. Kids like to lick their mother’s face. At least mine does. (Why is this?!)
  4. A child who is always hot and generally opts for no pants will sometimes insist on wearing fleece pants. In the summer.
  5. Sleep books should all include this line: “Some kids just don’t sleep much. If you get one of those, sorry about that, but you should probably just accept it.” (This might have prevented Go the F*ck to Sleep from becoming a bestseller, but that book is too late for me anyway.) This one little line might, just possibly, have saved my sanity.
  6. Toddlers can form attachments to weird things. Like a dog crate that’s been in storage and then brought out to be sold, the idea of which prompts floods of tears.
  7. This same toddler might reject anything and everything you suggest that might offer comfort – including things that are much softer and generally more comfortable than a dog crate – and insist on rubbing his mother’s wrist all.the.time. (Speaking of my sanity…)
  8. Sometimes it’s not the mother who will feel sentimental about wee baby clothes when putting them away, but the toddler who insists we can’t possibly pack these things up.
  9. A kid who hates getting his hands dirty while eating – and will whine as if his hands are crawling with spiders until you wipe them off – will then jump down from the table and immediately make a gigantic mess somewhere else. With his hands.
  10. In some cases, small boys will go from being totally fascinated by bugs to completely freaking out when there’s a fly in the house. And then he will go outside and find a caterpillar and make it a home with leaves and insist that it needs to live inside.

Come to think of it, all of this could be summed up in one line (which would make for much shorter books): Toddlers are weird- just go with it.

With a good pair of boots you can do pretty much anything.

Filed Under: Motherhood · Tagged With: ,

Confessions of a Prenatal Class Graduate

June 11, 2011 by ·

I confess: Looking back, I think the prenatal class we took was pretty dumb.

It was one night a week for four weeks (or was it six?) and aside from completely freaking me out about having a c-section (which I ended up having, so I suppose I’m glad I knew ahead of time they strap your arms down) I’m not sure it was very useful.

Practice baby

Image courtesy sweetpeascloth.com

One activity involved planning what we would do in a day with a newborn. The idea was to help parents-to-be understand how much work it is to have a newborn and how hard it is to get anything else done. The class was split – moms on one side, dads/partners on the other. It became a bit of a joke – how often do you have to feed them? How much sleep is reasonable to expect? How many beers can I drink between diaper changes? But of course none of us knew what was reasonable or what to expect. You can’t know until you’re doing it. So overall, not helpful.

Another exercise involved how partners can support moms in late pregnancy and labour. Are some of these things designed to make pregnant women seem totally hormonally messed up? One of the questions was: “What do you do if mom decides she needs to totally overhaul the baby’s room a week before her due date?” Because, you know, you’ve done all that painting and decorating and setting up furniture so it would be insane to change it all because her pregnant self doesn’t like it.

Related aside: Of course my husband, champion that he is, responded, “Say yes,” to this question. I, on the other hand, was much more rational, and wrote, “Look at the room and your options”. And then about, oh, two weeks before Connor was born, I had a total panic that the room wasn’t good enough and bought a bunch of decals that went with his bedding. I thought my artistic husband would freak out – “decals?!” – but he totally went for it and we put them up. Crisis averted.

In any case, thinking about this exercise now it occurs to me that, while I’m sure it’s helpful to understand how you can support your partner while she’s in labour, the prenatal class didn’t focus nearly enough on the actual reality of what happens next.

Looking at our responses to the labour support questions, I think a lot of the strategies involved could actually be applied to supporting a new mom right after birth, and it might have been helpful to mention that.

It doesn’t really matter what the actual questions were (translation: I can’t remember), but here’s what we answered (my answers / Rich’s answers):

  • sit down & have a drink / distract her
  • watch a movie or TV / run a bath and light candles
  • look at the room and the options / say “yes”
  • sit down / remind her of what she’s learned
  • call midwife or go for a walk / go for a walk
  • encourage & give positive feedback / give her a back or foot rub
  • encourage her, give a back rub / say “yes”
  • encourage her, hold her hand / encourage her
  • distract her / practice breathing
  • get her to sit down and breathe / get her to sit down

Don’t you think these apply to all the totally overwhelming and hard joyful things that happen after you bring your baby home? And coming from the point of view of someone who dealt with PPD, I know I would have been a lot better off if I’d done more of these things.

Do you think it’s too late to ask for a back rub?

Filed Under: Motherhood · Tagged With: ,
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