Starlight
24 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in Angels, Friendship, Motherhood
Let’s call her Starlight.
We’ll get back to her.
Let me start with this: It’s been a rough week. Who am I kidding, it’s been a rough few years. Riding the joy and exhaustion of giving birth to my second child in 2 years, it wasn’t something I saw happening. Not even sure if I felt it through the cloud of fog that consumed my chaotic mind and life.
I was suddenly alone.
Surrounded by a loving husband and two beautiful angels who are more precious to me than life itself, I’d never felt more alone. Or scared. Or inadequate. Or unprepared. I was supposed to be HAPPY. Unequivocally joyous. Full of light and inspiration and rationale. A model of true grace.
Yeah, well…this is more what I feel like most days:
This was NOT how this was supposed to happen. I had planned it so differently in my mind. There would be rainbows and fireworks and a Navy Seal-esque team of rockstars ready to support me from the delivery room to pre-school. I would be surrounded by girlfriends who’d paved the way before me and just. could. not. wait to give me a competitive edge on this whole motherhood thing. I would change diapers and cook delicious, healthy meals with manicured nails and soft hands. My perfect husband would send me and my awesome, road-paving girlfriends to a well-deserved spa weekend on the regular because, well….just because.
I would sit in the beautiful silence of each morning sunrise, sipping coffee and talking to God about my gratitude for all things perfect in my life. There would be daily meditation and yoga to maintain the personal balance and spiritual perspective needed in order to raise good humans. We would attend church regularly, go to picnics and playdates, maybe even join a country club. People would stop in their tracks to tell us what well-behaved and well-mannered children we have. My perfect husband and I would exchange knowing glances and smile humbly. My house would be my dream house with rooms adorned in Pottery Barn, walls accented only with rare pieces collected in our worldly travels, and every space in between would be filled with pictures of our happy family, professionally posed in jeans and white polos (because that’s the dress code of family portraits) along a driftwood-scattered beach at sunset. Life would be everything I imagined. Ah yes, we would be whole.
*sigh*
Alone. Alone. Alone. Just me and these boys I don’t understand.
Alone with this mean, bitch of a stowaway who has taken up residence in my head. She asks a lot of questions, too. I call her The Riddler.
“Where the h*ll is your back-up anyway? Are THEY ever coming? YOU can’t possibly be the only thing I’ve got to work with. Dammit woman, doesn’t anyone love you?”
“JAYZUS! Do you really think THAT’S the best way to do that? Of course you do because you don’t know anything!”
“Any chance you plan on bathing today? Or maybe catching up on that massive load of laundry in the corner? It’s quite amazing how bad you are at this.”
It’s amazing to me that I even survived her. Not everyone can handle attacks that intense and unforgiving. Turns out that, in fact, I couldn’t handle it. Enter Starlight.
Starlight is my friend. She is my Earthly angel. She is my soul sister.
She reminds me that life never turns out as we planned. That life is its own force, its own soul, and it cannot be controlled nor contained. That Life, in fact, is just a beautiful disaster that should be celebrated no matter how much it hurts or how unfair it seems to be at times. That life and love and everything in between can never be understood and it sure as hell can’t be prepared for. All we can do is keep dancing until the pain fades and keep laughing until the tears dry. She demonstrates how grace, selflessness and imperfection are the only possessions we can ever really own.
Through a smile, she passes the wine bottle and tells me a story. A story that fills me with goosebumps and gratitude and teary eyes. It’s the story of me and it’s beautiful and broken and I’m suddenly filled with overwhelming relief that I don’t run this show.
Above all, she teaches me that God lives in the details of life. And when His hands are full, he places Angels among us.
‘My life,
You electrify my life
Let’s conspire to reignite
All the souls that would die just to feel alive
But I’ll never let you go
If you promise not to fade away.’
May every soul have a Starlight. I love you MC.
XOX
Just put it out there, baby.
05 Apr 2012 1 Comment
I was reading a new blog today…and it was talking about the epidemic of “perfection”. Not perfection-ism; perfection. That distinction was intentional of course….and it hooked me enough to dedicate the 10 minutes it took to read what this guy had to say on the matter. It was a raw, desperate plea to…well, who knows exactly who, perhaps to humanity in general. The message was clear and powerful though: recognize the disease of the mind that makes each and EVERY one of us feel that there is an image of “perfection” that we must project at all times. Yup, yup. Just my cup of tea. Good stuff.
Then, at the very end, he did something crazy. He asked for everyone to post something, just one thing, that you do/are/feel/suffer/endure that you hide. That shames you. That makes you feel like no one else out there would ever understand. That makes you feel alone and afraid. That makes you run endlessly like a hamster in a wheel trying to win the envy of others. Let everyone see how we are all in this together.
Just put it out there.
Ever hear of the 12-year old boy who killed himself because he felt ashamed of what his family would think of his (normal!) urge to masturbate? Nope, me either…but it’s a true story. It made me wonder what could have happened if he had read this stranger’s heartfelt blog that seemed written just for him. I ponder the warmth he would have felt in his heart as he read the comments and realized just how very ‘normal’ he was. Maybe he would have even smiled as he looked to the sky and realized he was so very far from alone. That, in fact, he was a beautiful gift from God who had a purpose and a future and was absolutely perfect in all the ways that matter. That his parent’s need to project an image of perfectionism had nothing to do with him. Or their love for him. They were just as lost and confused as everyone else. Heck, they may have just needed his love to show them the way.
Just put it out there.
Tears filled my eyes over and over as I continued diligently through each reader’s confession. One wasn’t more important than the other and these people just wanted to be heard. To be understood. To be accepted. To be IMPERFECT. To be reminded that they deserve their own love more than anyone. To be told “Hey! Hey you! Yes, YOU! I’m here! I hear you! Hang in there! Trust me, it’s ALL good!” Needless to say, it was an honor to be part of their audience.
Inevitably, I got to the confession that clamped on my heart like a bear-trap and wouldn’t let go. A sad, scared teen-aged girl who wrote in the rambling, genuine tone that only children possess. She doesn’t understand why her parents are such good, honest, hard-working people but live in a perpetual state of sacrifice and lack. Sad and helpless as she watches her parents struggle. Conflicted by her shame of their poverty. Cutting herself for years trying to mask the internal pain. I could almost see the proverbial fog that loomed so thickly in her delicate view of the world and understood what she couldn’t put into words – what is so great about this life that I would want to continue in this type of pain?
I hear you baby. I am here for you.
After all, I had been her once.
Just put it out there.
And so I did just that:
“Darling – your post really caught me and I am so thankful you shared it. I am 32, but when I was in school and growing up my parents also struggled and had to work hard to scrape by and still put me in the best schools they could and to give me the best they could. It was never enough compared to all the kids around me and it was depressing to not be able to have the clothes, the car, the vacations, the flawless, breezy existences everyone around me seemed to enjoy.
Instead, I worked full-time at 16 and still went to school while my friends were at cheerleading practice, parties and football games. And I was still considered “popular” and “beautiful” and appeared to have confidence in spades. All the while…I was miserable and self-loathing because I felt I was none of those things. I was drowning in the fear that everyone would find out I was just a fake trying to fit in where I didn’t belong.
I’m telling you this because I felt the same way you are feeling – and let me share what I’ve learned since I was where you are:
Your family has the stuff that life is made of. Your parents are the “real” of the world. Your parents are Love. Your parents are exactly what God intended for you and He has plans for people like you that far exceed anything your imagination could come up with. I know it feels like this is your whole world right now, but it’s not. It’s just one of the many stops along the way in your beautifully imperfect journey, and every stop along the way helps mold you into the exact person you need to become. Smile at the people you think have it all…because, they don’t. Behind closed doors, every family has their own set of problems and issues that no one else would ever trade for. Truth be told, I’ve noticed more often than not that people with a lot of money tend to have the kind of problems that can’t be cured with anything tangible.
Just take a moment, breathe and start to accept how special you are – you’ve been chosen for some rough times and lessons because it’s pressure that turns coal into diamonds. That’s what you are, honey. You are a diamond in the rough. Remember, a diamond can never become a diamond until it endures & survives the pressure required to reveal the beauty within. So: Be glad. Be thankful. Be happy. You are special. You are beautiful. You are loved.
You will be rich in all the ways that matter, at the time when it matters, and with an appreciation for all you have that only comes from experience with lack. I have two sons and can say this without hesitation: You ARE helping your parents by loving them and appreciating what they do every day for your family. That they are willing to sacrifice more than most people in this world in order to ensure YOU have a better life than they did. So that YOU won’t have to struggle as hard as they did. So that YOU will be able to enjoy your life a little more than they did. This is what every true parent wants and the only return on investment sought is your happiness. Chin up and soldier on – your family is my definition of “perfection”. Much love to you!”
Get out there baby. Don’t be afraid. Trust yourself. Trust God. Set the world on fire. XOX
