gratitude Archives - Page 20 of 24 -

Uncool

June 23, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

You know what I love about blogging? It’s making me rich. Not in money – the currency is love, friendship, and community.

Some of you have already rolled your eyes and closed this tab. The rest of you know what I’m talking about.

My life has been enriched since I started blogging. Here, it doesn’t matter who I am. It doesn’t matter what I do, or what kind of a car I drive or how pretty I am. What matters is what I share.

Everyone feels uncool sometimes. Yes, everyone. Think of the most popular girl in high school (was that you?) and I guarantee she was insecure about something. Or maybe a lot of things. Perhaps even a lot of the time.

Ironically, blogging can sometimes make us feel especially uncool. We succumb, at times, and measure our worth in visits, clicks, comments and re-tweets. We follow our Google Friend Connect numbers like they’re our bank accounts – waiting, begging, praying for them to go up. We want people to “like” us, on Facebook, but in general as well.

It’s the curse of the blogger and I’ve seen many post about their blogging insecurities, only to be assured that, yes, their blogs are great. Their writing is great. They are great. Which is great. Sometimes it’s nice to be reminded of these things by someone other than your mother.

Coincidentally, three of the leaders in my PPD community have recently posted about popularity in blogging. Lauren from My Postpartum Voice wrote about her Klout score. Katherine from Postpartum Progress and Yael from PPD to Joy both wrote about popularity as a result of the Circle of Moms contest for the top 25 mental health blogs. (If you read Yael’s post, you’ll see where the inspiration for this post came from.)

I think Klout is probably bunk, but when people award me Klout points I appreciate it, not because it affects my score, which I care nothing about, but because I take it as a compliment.

I was nominated in that Circle of Moms contest – another compliment – and ended up at number 10. I’m grateful for what it will do to raise awareness about postpartum depression, but I have no illusions about what it means for me – it was a contest that allowed a vote a day, which is hardly a valid measure of the top anything. Some of the ones that came in below me are more established, more authoritative, more lots-of-things blogs.

So no, those things don’t mean I’m cool. I’m not cool. In high school I wasn’t popular but I wasn’t an outcast either. I was just me, and I’m glad of that now.

Now I don’t worry (very much) about being cool. I don’t fuss about what I wear around my more fashionable friends. I don’t look at the moms who seem put together and totally with it and feel inadequate, because I know they have bad days just like the rest of us. My taste in music probably resembles a 16-year-old girl’s more than a 36-year-old mom’s, but I don’t care. It makes me happy.

Instead of worrying about whether I’m cool, I try to relish the relationships I have. What matters to me is that people like you show me that what I share with others matters.

“The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool.” – Lester Bangs in Almost Famous

Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With: blogging, community, gratitude

Hello, Inspiration – Father’s Day

June 19, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

I haven’t posted in a couple of days. Confession: I feel like I’m slipping. A rough few days and I feel like the swirl is coming back, so I’m just trying to hold it off.

I’m going to save my planned inspiration post until I can feel it again and express it properly. In the meantime, some thoughts on Father’s Day.

I know some people don’t have dads – my parents have both lost theirs. I know some dads aren’t perfect. I know some moms out there are doing it on their own for one reason or another.

It sounds silly, but this blogospheric community has made me really realize how hard Father’s Day can be for some people.

I’m blessed in the dad department – both with my own dad and the wonderful dad my husband is.

This might seem like a downer, but I’m actually inspired by those of you who don’t or can’t rejoice in Father’s Day. You’ve shared stories of bad relationships with your fathers. You’ve commented that you don’t have a relationship with your father at all.

Some of you have lost your fathers. Some fathers have lost their children.

Some of you have amazing and wonderful dads but just don’t get to see them as often as you’d like.

Whatever your situation, your strength and honesty inspire me.

I feel lucky to know others who do whatever you need to do on Father’s Day – celebrate it, ignore it, rail against it, or take the time to remember your dad and hold him in your heart.

So to all of you who have lived with the hard stuff, and to all the fathers and father figures out there who spread love and joy and caring, I wish you a Happy Father’s Day, whatever that looks like to you.

Filed Under: Hello, Inspiration · Tagged With: admissions, family, gratitude, love, perspective

Affection in Cashmere

June 14, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

“Let’s go out for your birthday!” they said.

It was January. My birthday was in December, but when you have a birthday four days before Christmas you get used to celebrating at odd times. And I’m always up for a night out with these girls.

***

It started with a prenatal yoga class. Across the room, the beginning of a bond formed with another mom-to-be with a due date close to mine. We had a lot of the same pregnancy side effects. We were both having boys. She was energetic and outgoing – and SO excited about having a baby – it was hard not to notice her.

A couple of months later at a baby group, I sat in the circle on the floor with my 6-week-old son and there she was. Same dark hair. Same expressive face. But this time she had a little bundle in her arms and he looked just like her.

A self-described princess, she had planted herself firmly on the throne of motherhood and there she has stayed. Thank goodness, because she’s a supermom type, a made-to-be-a-mom type – and one of the most generous and supportive people I have ever met – who, many times, has filled up my mom kit with diversions and strategies when I’ve run out.

At the baby group we connected across the room again, over the chatter of other new mothers and new-baby squeals. She mentioned the yoga class moms had formed a moms’ group and she invited me along.

I happily accepted, not knowing I had taken a step towards something that was going to save my sanity.

There were eight of us who met regularly. Rotating from house to house to share hosting duties, that core group had visits every week during our year of maternity leave.

Four of us spent some extra time together. We’re all runners, so we ran together a couple of times a week in addition to our play dates. Up and down trails, around lakes, we talked endlessly. They became the kind of friends every new mother – every person – should have.

They were with me throughout Connor’s fussy period, when I thought I was going to go nuts. They commiserated with me when I told stories of how much my child didn’t sleep – and how much he did scream – at night. Sometimes, when I thought I couldn’t take it any more, one of them would swoop in and take him from me so I could get a break from the bouncing and the screaming inside my head.

I confessed some of my struggle, before I knew what it was. “I want to throw him out the window,” I admitted one day, sobbing over the phone because I just didn’t know what to do anymore.

Eventually, when I knew more about what was going on and was getting some help, I told them about my struggle with postpartum depression. They were accepting and supportive, as I knew they would be, and have been right there with me ever since.

***

On that night – the birthday celebration turned girls’ night out – they gave me a gift. A cashmere shawl in dusty rose pink. Beautiful and soft. I loved it.

But sometimes a shawl isn’t just a shawl.

“For when you need a hug,” they told me and in that sentiment expressed so much. We know you are struggling. We want to help. We are here for you.

And they are, always. In my heart, as cherished friends that were brought into my life for a reason and never, for a single day, taken for granted.

Somehow that shawl has made its way into my purse. I wore it somewhere, I guess, and then took it off and put it in my bag. And there it has stayed, as a reminder of affection offered when needed and accepted with love and gratitude.

(Yes, except for mine I chopped off the babies' faces, because they're not my babies' faces to post. But trust me - they are beautiful too.)

Prompt: a show of affection

Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With: community, gratitude, love

Now You Are Three

June 13, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

Dear Connor,

Today you turn three. I can hardly believe it.

I know, that sounds trite. But as I write this on the eve of your birthday – with you asleep next door in your big boy bed (the one you insist on showing every single person who comes into the house, and the same one you never want to sleep in alone at night) – I feel a little bit stunned. Three years!

This is the first photo taken of you when you were born:

Looking back, it tells me so much of what I now know about you. You’re not a huge fan of being taken away from your mama. You know exactly what you think and aren’t afraid to express it. You’re sensitive to your environment, but if you want to be the loud one, nothing can stop you.

As well, the expression on your face is one I’ve seen many a time since:

Something has happened in the last few months. I don’t know when, exactly, but you stopped being a baby. I know you’re not a baby and haven’t been for a while, but until recently I had moments every day where I caught a glimpse of baby in you. Each time I held on tightly, knowing it was a fleeting gift.

I’ve only just realized it, but it doesn’t happen every day anymore. Hardly at all, actually. Even last week when you were sick you didn’t stay stuck to me in the same way you did when you were sick only a couple of months ago. You’re growing up.

And I’m growing up with you. Since I’ve been off work the last couple of months, I’ve been working on getting better and for a long time Daddy was taking care of you. He was doing all the hard stuff that I couldn’t do at the time, like getting up with you in the mornings and trying to get you to eat breakfast, putting you down for naps, doing baths and bedtimes. For a short and very scary time I wondered if I would ever be able to do those things. It seems so silly, but I couldn’t do them. I was too sick and I needed to take care of myself before I could take care of you.

Over the last couple of weeks, though, I’ve started being mom again and doing some of those hard things that used to set me off when you didn’t cooperate. At first I had to talk Daddy into letting me do those things, to let him know it was okay and to assure him that I’d ask for help if I needed it. And we always had back-up. So many people have helped us over the last few weeks – I only wish I could repay them with something other than endless thanks and undying love. We owe Grandma especially for being here at times when I needed someone to do what I couldn’t do with my own child. Sometimes you just need your mom and I’m so grateful for mine. I hope I can always be there for you, for whatever you need, the way she is there for me.

We’re doing well, though, you and I. Which is not to say everything is easy, just that I can handle the hard stuff better now. And my darling boy, sometimes you are a holy terror. I can’t tell you how many times someone in public has commented on what a handful you are. If only they knew. I could do without the screaming fits and the meltdowns over seemingly insignificant things, but I know that’s part of who you are – a passionate, expressive person. (And you get that from me but don’t tell Daddy I acknowledged that.)

The past three years have changed my life in ways I never could have imagined, and for a long time things were so hard I wasn’t sure I’d make it through. I know what happened to me was hard for others as well. Your dad is really annoyed that I didn’t get the help I needed soon enough. In one way I’m sorry too, because it meant he had to deal with a lot of things I wish he hadn’t had to. I can’t change that now, but I do know how much he loves me and I know how much I love him because we’ve been through this together.

Mostly, though, I really don’t resent what I’ve experienced. It was awful – don’t get me wrong – and it’s not over yet. But I’ve learned so much from it – about you, about our family, about myself and about life. I now know just how much love and support we have, and that’s a powerful thing.

My experience with postpartum depression has also taught me that every one of us has something to give. We all have ways of helping someone. Of changing someone’s life, even. A few people have helped change mine, and I hope I can do that for someone else.

I have found new passions and new sources of inspiration that I never would have found if it weren’t for this, and no one can ever take that away from me. This insight is one of the biggest gifts I hope to offer you – to live your life fully, to do what you feel you’re meant to do, and to love and be loved in the process.

I will love you always and forever,
Mama xx

Filed Under: Letters to Connor, Postpartum depression · Tagged With: gratitude, living life, love, my wish for you

Hello, Inspiration – Rocky Mountain Soul

June 5, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

With apologies in advance to my mother, who will probably cry when she reads this.

Sometimes inspiration isn’t a thing or a person, it’s a place.

I’ve driven this road a hundred times. It contains a part of my soul that I only actually see – actually feel – when I’m on it.

It leads me to where I’m from – not a city, necessarily, but a place packed with memories.

The significance of this place was passed down to me by my family’s history and my mother’s love of the mountains. It has now been passed down to my son who, when we met up again after he drove with my parents for a while, proudly announced, “I saw Grandma’s favourite mountain!”