To tooness

A blog is a funny thing. My blog is anyway. Not funny in the sense that you laugh at it while you read it, (although I have heard some readers do), it's funny in the sense that it helps the author (me) more than it helps the reader (you).

Many years ago, during a very tumultuous time of change and loss, I started writing this blog that has since been, I guess, laid to rest by me (sort of). I have heard many comments over the last 6 years about blogging and my blog in general. That the writer seeks affirmation. That the writer is the ultimate attention seeker. That the writer is depressed. The writer is pent up with frustration with this being the only form to let it out. Of course there have been some positive comments too, so many.

When I began this blog, I really wanted to affirm the general feeling of "me too". Not knowing, of course, that "me too" would garner so much attention as a catch phrase in solidarity in the realm of sexual assault, misconduct, sexual discrimination, etc, (although, wait for it, it's coming), but the "me too" that connected with others and reassured them that they are not alone. As the world sticks our noses into our phones and screens more and more, and we get our self-identifying information and gauge to our own personal wellness from instagram posts and twitter tweets, I wanted to connect with poor grammar and terrible puncuation. Terrible. Puncuation.

And so much more. I wanted to connect with you as a living, breathing, feeling person.

You see, it's about parenting. And friendships. And marriages. And relationships. And sense of self (mack daddy). And illlness. And seperation from the norm. And anxiety. And awkwardness. And growth.  And all of the reasons you shouldn't ever start a sentence with the word "And". Which I love to do.

Most importantly, it was about parenting and be loving and being present during the shit storm. A whole world of shit hail.

For me it was the beginning of change. In a world that can be very unreliable, and in a world that I am still navigating and morphing in, it was about who is coming along for the journey despite that change. Who is my ride or die? How do I do all of this and still make sure my kids turn out all right? And it worked. Well, for me it did anyway. The connections I made with others as they shared my blog post and I heard the "me toos" was awesome. They shared their times of heartbreak and joy. And for brief moments there was that all important human link, which we all crave and need.

My children are my life. Almost to a fault. I started writing my feelings down in this blog in the "tween" years as I wrestled with all that was happening day to day and all that was looming. I am a self professed helicopter parent. I have since coined the term "drone parent" as I am far stealthier than a helicopter.  I don't "hover" as much as I used to, as my kids are now 20 and 18, but I am still, everyday, trying to remind them that I love them, I am here for them and that I support them all while still giving them the soft boot in the ass.

The key note is, it may not have worked in that sense, but it may have. Confusing right? Who the hell knows?  I am an imperfect being. I struggle with what is right and what is wrong, everyday. I never fully, restfully sleep. I obsess. I drive them nuts. And they have failed. They have also succeeded wildly. The tag line in my blog is that I feared my kids would wind up in therapy some day, at my expense. And now I no longer fear that, I encourage them to sit on the couch.

The kicker is: What now? Seriously...what now? Who do I give this to...now. Where does all of this go? The heat beneath my skin that lives in my chest. The miniscule drops of fluid that seep through my pores and whisper into every fiber of my being that I am forever their mother. My identity in a way, is wrapped up there. And to blame myself for letting it get so deep is a great way to make me feel even worse. But would I change it if I could? Not on your life.

The world fails us. Over and over again. We fail oursleves, again, and again and again. Those closest to us will fail us, too, those we love. Many, many times. The ability to pick up the pieces, keep moving, and be loving in the moment is the absolute most incredible thing you can ever do. You, yes, YOU. Do you realize what an incredible thing it is you do? In a world of chaos, you create calm. And perhaps some more chaos, too, but calm, peace, love, light, support for someone else, especially for your child, is a gift.

We are gift givers. Over and over. Am I speaking to women? Well, kind of (sorry, not sorry). We seem to be the emotional back bone of our society. But strictly...no.

As a 14 year old full time worker at my first summer job, I was sexually harrassed by my boss. He was a family friend, a well known figure in my home town and a local business owner in a business that employed mostly men. It was extremely uncomfortable and a few of the guys in the office knew about it. He would call me into his office, with the door open, to talk about my chest. Someone failed me. Not the first time. I did nothing, they did nothing. Would I hope that my daughter would report it now? Yes, definitely. Would I criticize her if she didn't? No way.

Why throw the thing about sexual discrimination and harrassment in here, you ask? Well, because now, if it happened again, I would say something. Of course I would. Because my feelings about myself have changed. My feelings about what is acceptable and what is not, have changed. The powerlessness I felt then, is no more. I just started talking openly about this recently. Unfortuantely, these incidents of sexual harrassement or inappropriateness were not my last in the workplace or in life. My evolution has taken time. The evolution happens through connection. Through the "me toos". If you think it's just a feminist movement, you are off a little. It's about not putting up with BS, regardless of your sex, sexual orientation, religion, level of power, etc. It's about equality and treating others with respect. My whole point of momming to begin with was to teach my children respect for themselves and others. Who would I be if I didn't follow my own guidance? The "me toos" have changed our collective perspective on the world. The "me toos" create change. The "me toos" have changed me.

So, the "me toos" of parenting, of being a woman, of being frustrated, being tired, being worn to the bone, the incredible love, the elation, the prideful moments, it's what this blog and my writing is about. If you don't connect, hit another blog. But if you do and did, thank you. Thank you for your friendship, comraderie, your tears, your laughs, and you just being who you are, warts and all.

Repeatedly, a dear friend of mine calls me out to sit and write. I have put her off many times, but she seems to know when I need the reminder as to how awesomely therapeutic it is and to hit up the connective forces that is the reader. Today is her birthday, and she is a incredible gift. We have shared alot of "me tooness".

And now, again, what to do with all of this? The ache in my chest that never goes away. The hesitation as I begin a new path in life as my youngest heads off to college and makes me an official empty nester (by the way, my darlings, I will ALWAYS feather my nest for you). As I navigate this, mostly alone, I look to you. I look to you for sharing the tough moments. I look to you to not put the smile over the tears, but to let the tears have their day. I will look to you as you reinvent yourself or find the way to your true calling, or...to a bar. Whatever it is, you are my inspiration, my lifeblood, my guide, my me toos.