When 'what if' is

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. ~Rajneesh

The truth is, Little Tyke was not planned. Motherhood for me has been a tough road - very rewarding, but tough all the same. There were times that I even dared to wonder what my life would have been like if he wasn't around.

For the longest time after he was born, I felt completely and totally overwhelmed and a little oppressed. I felt as if my life had been taken away. Hubby and I had only been together as a couple for two years when he was born. It sounds like long enough but, we got married when I was three months pregnant - which means that, at a time when most people are only just 'coming down' from the euphoria of their honeymoon, I was a bloated, swollen-feet-having, back-pain-suffering grinch.

And then after he was born, my milk just wouldn't come in. In-between the cracked nipples and guilt over not being able to perform the most basic of motherly duties - I had to go on antibiotics because my ceasar wound became infected. I got thrush (and passed it on to Little Tyke) and so had to stop breastfeeding: after that cleared up, he refused to take the breast anymore. Then there were the endless months of colic...! Oh god, the colic. That almost broke me.

At the same time, I was trying so hard to run the new home that I had created with my new husband. But I was just so tired all the time. I still wanted to be the desirable (and agile) little nymph that I had been while we were dating. But I just couldn't lose that baby weight and I seemed to gain even more as the months wore on. I missed the nights out that we used to have - the partying and the romantic dinners. But we had noone to watch Little Tyke while we were out.

I felt like a shadow of my former self and it was at those times that I would ask myself what life would be like without him. I would never admit that to anyone and even when the thought reared its ugly head in my own mind, I would quickly shove it back down and chastise myself for hours. It wasn't natural to think that way and I was an apalling mother for even entertaining such a thought - in any form. But the fact was my life had changed irrevocably and I felt that it hadn't really been by choice, so inevitably when the hard moments came so did those ugly thoughts.

Fast forward to today. Little Tyke has been in Z for over a month now and I'm finally faced with the reality of my once fanciful (albeit shameful) 'what if's. The truthful answer is that life would be hollow. There would be no daily reminder of my alive-ness. Nothing to keep me connected to life itself.

Being a parent gives you a VIP pass to life's backstage. You literally witness and experience its very beginning. The moment that you realise that this brand new little person is about to embark on a journey that you have already travelled and have taken for granted all your life, a sense of purpose immediately starts searching for expression within you.

Suddenly the ills of the world, the ills within yourself become a permanent part of your peripheral vision. You are consciously, subconsciously and sometimes unconsciously aware of the fact that you are responsible for guiding this little life through all the perils that you have faced and (more terrifying) the perils that are yet to come and that you know nothing about.

You find new joy in the seemingly mundane things that now cause the face of your child to light up ... coming home, giving hugs, taking a drive, eating ice-lollies. You suddenly realise that you have a reason to smile every single day. And for me, that is the one that blows my mind. A reason to smile every single day? Even when you don't particularly feel like you have anything to smile about, all it takes is a funny word or a wierd laugh from your little one and suddenly a smile will creep up on you, simultaneously warming your heart as it spreads across your face.

There are facets and dimensions of life that become clear to you when you have a child. You begin to live outside of yourself and, if you're like me, it is for the very first time in your life. I've said before that I reckon I'm pretty selfish, but when Little Tyke needed to eat or had to have a nappy change it was him that came first - every time and without even a second thought. It may seem elementary but it's really not. It's a truly remarkable feat of nature; to give and give and give without an expectation of even an iota of reciprocation.

He became my joy, my purpose, my reason, my life.

And now, I miss him unendurably. Every phone call is guaranteed to end in tears (my tears). I miss hearing him say "Mummy". I am even willing to hear it called out repeatedly for up to 10minutes at a time (like he loves to do) if it means I'll have my baby back with me.

What is life like without him? It's really not life at all - not my life anyway. As much as I had wanted to look at this time apart as an opportunity to catch up on all sorts of stuff - including catching up with a me a thought I had lost, I realise now that a life without my son is impossible. This is my life now and how much more rich and fulfilling a life it is. I have gained more from being a mother than anything I could ever have thought I had lost.

Maybe I needed this time to really think about it and even this blog to try and put it into words. In a way, I'm kind of glad I did.

So... can I get my baby back now?

HELP...!

Most people would rather be certain they're miserable, than risk being happy. ~Robert Anthony

Last week, I spent that last few days before the weekend in a state of mild depression. Pyjamas all day, weepy and defeated. I told Hubby that it was because I missed Little Tyke so much, and that was a big part of it but I also feel there was something more to it.

Since my last blog post I've been excruciatingly conflicted - trying to reconcile knowing that I've been F*&king up with the powerful urge to retreat into my comfort zone in order to escape that very fact (and thereby perpetuating the vicious cycle). I spoke last time about power and responsibility. What has struck me (and frankly scares me to death) is the fact that - contrary to what I had been telling myself - the power has always been there, and all this time I have essentially using my power for evil and not for good.

I had a pretty decent weekend and this Monday morning finds me particularly chirpy and hopeful, but I can't help reminding myself that that's how I started out last week... and the week before, and the one before that. Sometimes I wonder if I truly am a lost cause. How can I know all of these things cognitively and still not be able to act on them in such a way that I feel that I've made even the slight bit of progress in living a satisfying life?

I've been able to fix myself before. I managed to get over the biggest heartbreak of my life, to extricate myself from the worst emotional abuse I've ever experienced, even succeeded at quitting smoking after 9 years, and losing 10kgs in a couple of months! And how did I do it? I took it one day at a time. Everyday, I was able to examine my every thought and action and decide whether it was the right thing for me - if it was going to get me to where I wanted to be. So how come I can't seem to be able to do that now... even though I know for sure that it's the only way?!

Then I realise that what sets those hurdles apart from what I'm going through now is that I wanted to do it. I had the will, because I came to not only realise cognitively, but also believe in my soul that living with those situations was doing me much more harm than good. But now, the comfort of not living up to expectations (even if they're my own), of letting life just 'happen' to me, of clinging to my fear. That comfort is just too enticing. Could it be that I don't want to get better, to BE better?

Startling, I know. But it's the only theory that makes sense. Even back when I was still working towards the victories I just mentioned, my thinking behind it was not nearly as deep and considered as it is now. I just knew I had to do it, and keep at it til I finally got there. Why then can I not replicate the same sort of triumph in my life now? Now that I have the added advantage of all my years of experience and introspection. Why?

I hate admiting my shortcomings, especially admitting them to myself. It hurts to know how I've been sabotaging myself and continue to do so over and over. The 'whys' of the situation are important but I don't know if right now I really have the emotional capital or perspective to figure them out. Last week's depression scared me and made me realise that maybe therapy wouldn't be a bad idea. If I had the money I would have booked a session right then and there.

There are some things that exist deep down that no amount of self-help will... well... help me with. I think that in the past I may have prided myself on the fact that I'm a deep thinker, a student of the human psyche. But more and more I'm feeling that I can't keep trying to do it on my own. I'm in no way admitting defeat, but I am admitting that I need help.

It's a tough road and I see now that I've been making light of the gravity of the task of achieving real happiness. Even as I type this, I'm tempted to take it all back. I feel so disappointed in my weakness. I keep wanting to say, "I'm sure I could get it right. I just need another Monday, another new month, another new year". But I don't have the luxury of that. My life's gotta change. It's gotta be soon and it's gotta be for good!

However, I remain hopeful. I spent the weekend catching up on loads of painfully neglected work and was up early this morning finalising that process. On that front, I'm pretty much on an even footing - for the first time in months! I've made some progress putting a plan together for the launch of Hubby and Big Bro's debut album - which I'm very excited about, I might add. Unfortunately, I only got one workout in last week and haven't nearly been eating right but everyday's as a new opportunity to do things differently. I've just got to keep taking the opportunities as they come.

The point is, I can't carry on being so hard on myself. And as much as it feels like a cop-out, I must admit that there are some things that I just don't know how to fix and, until I do, I need to just do what I can with the knowledge I've got. Because, in the immortal words of Maya Angelou, "When you know better, you do better". At least I have now learned that I need to know more about myself before I can be a better version of myself.

Update [May 2010]: I think I've found some of that help I needed. It was here all along!

Image: (c) Optiknerve-gr

Power

Anything I've ever done that ultimately was worthwhile... initially scared me to death. ~Betty Bender

As difficult as it is, Little Tyke's absence has represented an opportunity for me to achieve, chase, or - at the very least - set some goals. One of the many opportunities represented by Little Tyke being in Z is the chance for Hubby and I to 're-connect', another is for me to spend more time on myself: nurturing, feeding & taking care of the most vital parts of me, yet another is to get my career in order.

So, in what I suppose can be seen as an inevitable event, what began as the simple realisation of a new-found freedom, has become an ever-increasingly over-bearing 'to-do' list. So many goals, so much internal pressure to live up to it all. It's almost as if I've got some point to prove.

...and if I do have something to prove, what is it and who do I need to prove it to?

I had an epiphany yesterday - I came to realise that every second of my life is under my complete and total control. Now, I've watched enough episodes of Oprah and read enough self-help books to know that that little bit of information is nothing new. However, for me in that instant, it was the first time in YEARS that I have had that thought and processed it deeply enough for it to actually stike a tangible cord within me, "I decide. I choose".

I was in tears. I had a total breakdown, brought on by the realisation that for so many years... nay, too many years, I had been feeling that I had no control... none. Feeling that stuff just kept happening to me. A victim? Dare I admit it? But, I had to admit it - and that moment of truth reduced me to tears. Hadn't I always believed that victims chose to be victims? Oh, the shock of realising that I had made that choice!

Obviously, 'what to do about it' becomes the next burning question, and the answer is down to a very simple process of thought. "You are in control, right?" Right. "So you can make your life what you want it to be, therefore all you have to do is do what it takes to make it so.

"But how?", a sceptical voice enquires. "Well, excercise your power down to its furthest reach. You control every second of your life, right?" Right. "So, in every second of your life, decide whether whatever you are doing, going to do, or are thinking of doing is going to get your life to be what you want it to be".

At that point, I just burst into audible sobs. I knew how to do that. That's why the initial realisation was so gutting. At every moment I've known that I've been working at cross-purposes with my self. It was nothing more than self-sabotage.

"But you're STILL in control. Even as you sob, you can choose - after you've dried the tears, blown your nose and thrown away the tissues - to leave it there or to pursue the solution. You can cry about how you've screwed up or you can try to figure out why you screwed up and and how to fix it. Take the power you have gained in admitting to a problem and multiply it, by directing it towards working out a way to make it right".

Wow! I can actually do that, can't I? Right here and right now. I don't need to wait until I've reached my lowest point; until I'm a shell of myself and I feel that life has nothing left to offer me. I can make a decision right now. It's not too late to reclaim control.

Then the tears came even harder. But this time they came from outside of me. It was the fear. The fear that has ruled me with such fierce tenacity for so long. It suddenly appeared from the shadows, like a fur-coat-wearing, feather-hat-donning pimp in a dark alley. I could feel my figurative hand instinctively rise to its metaphorical cheek in a double-act of defense and acceptance of the inevitable. I knew this fear was my master and it had just walked in on my conversation about the underground railroad with another rabble-rousing slave. In that instant I knew I had seen a familiar light, but the gravity and difficulty of getting to it, suddenly became so intensly clear to me - clearer that it had been in a while.

I stood there, staring it in the face. Confronted by my fear in its full and supremely intimidating glory. I wish I could describe the epic showdown that was going on in my mind at that moment... but long story short - I flinched, and by the end of it I was on some "Yessir, Masser. Don't worry, this uppity nigg*r was just leaving". I sat there. Spent. Eyes flitting back and forth, as I pantingly tried to figure out what had just happened. I saw my fear - looked it in the eye and as much I wanted to erase its image from my mind, I had to force myself to consider how powerful it honestly was. Scary, we can agree on; but if I were ever to defy it, what's the absolute worse that could actually happen?

I left that particular 'train' of thought right there, though (baby steps, I guess). So at this point all that I know for sure is that I AM in control. The consequences of actually excercising that power are a different matter. The ugly truths that I'll have to accept, the fears I'll have to overcome... all of that is a bridge that can only be crossed when I come to it. In a way, deep down inside I know that this little realisation is not for nothing. I do have a point to prove, and who do I have to prove it to? That very same fear.

It all just brings me back to my earliest mission... back to just getting on with life. Just doing what I have to do. I can't help feeling that I'm just spinning my tyres, though. I've been here before - epiphanies and deep introspection: it's what I do best. Action, though - that's what seems to be so elusive.

I'm thinking that the best way to deal with it is to take it one second at a time... "Excercise your power down to its furthest reach.... (second by second) In every second of your life, decide whether whatever you are doing, going to do, or are thinking of doing is going to get your life to be what you want it to be".

With great power, comes great responsibility, they say. My first task is to exercise the power. It remains to be seen whether I can handle the responsibility.