Censorship (Do I Cower at Having Readers?)

So I think someone might be reading this. From the minute I posted my blog link on Facebook, it has been an amazing roller coaster in my head. Without thinking much, I decided to have the Guts to share with others. The initial responses were all so supportive. Then I had some people talk about how personally touched they were by it and I panicked. It is funny how I can share in a random text box, but it feels much more scary to actually talk about my struggles in person. For an hour or so, I wondered if I should re-read everything, edit it to death and then apologize to you.
It felt a bit like my Senior Art Show, where I posted personal struggles I had with men in my artist statement, only to go back and put up a more generic statement a few hours later. The funny thing was that the few people who read the original were so moved and able to connect and disappointed by the change.

For my Art Show, I starting making what I thought was a beautiful pregnant woman, only to be told by my mentor that the woman was not pregnant, but holding onto something. The final piece is a woman holding a hollow masculine mask.  In my show as today, when I step out of a "norm" or say something weighty, I feel a bit sick. Instinct dictates that people might not like me, they might be offended and in the end, I will be alone, like Asher Lev. In the book, My Name is Asher Lev, Asher starts with this.

My name is Asher Lev, the Asher Lev, about whom you have read in newspapers and magazines, about whom you talk so much at your dinner affairs and cocktail parties, the notorious and legendary Lev of the Brooklyn Crucifixion.

I am an observant Jew. Yes, of course, observant Jews do not paint crucifixions. As a matter of fact, observant Jews do not paint at all--in the way that I am painting. So strong words are being written and spoken about me, myths are being generated: I am a traitor, an apostate, a self-hater, an inflicter of shame upon my family, my friends, my people; also, I am a mocker of ideas sacred to Christians, a blasphemous manipulator of modes and forms revered by Gentiles for two thousand years.

I took a risk in the Spring when I shared a story about a childhood Spanking and sweat bullets as I read it, thinking people would treat me like I had leprosy. The amazing thing was that every one of my classmates wrote comments back saying that they had had similar experiences. I was shocked at the connection and thankful that I took the risk.

Should I go into hiding and pretend I did not write a blog and retract my invitation to share or should I risk exposure in hopes of having a deeper relationship with myself, with you and with God. My real desire is to dialogue with anyone who wants to talk, either about what I have written or what is on your mind. So I will do my best to speak truthfully, so that real work can be done towards enlightenment, change and deeper engagement about things that matters.

Sleepless Stupor

I just love this verse from Job 10: "You will forget your misery; you will remember it as waters that have passed away. And your life will be brighter than the noonday; its darkness will be like the morning. And you will have confidence, because there is hope; you will be protected and take rest in safety."

Right now misery is all about a crying baby and very little sleep and the promise is that it will be gone tomorrow, as I know it will. I have no memory of the early struggles we had with David, but I am told they were just as challenging.

In a recent sermon I heard, our talked about how life is not about being happy. The pastor said that if it were, we would all be disappointed most of the time, in marriage, friends, our success, etc. I believe this is true and hope to live fully, without the expectation of everyone and everything turning into a fairy tale, which would be so boring anyway.

Parenting vs. Choosing Not to Have Kids

So, with a new son in our lives, I have to address the question of why people, or why I chose to have kids. This is also a response to some close friends who feel the idea of kids is appealing, but who might decide the work of child rearing is not for them, which equates to no kids. There is a sense that the rift between parenting and coupling w/o kids is so vast, that relating as adults across the kid decision becomes difficult. I feel defensive as I wonder about why there might be a rift, once you take a side. I also wonder about how people on either side of this argument seem to need to convince people that their choice is the better one. Even in the latest Sex in the City movie, Carrie and Big have to deal with another couple who thinks they must be empty for not deciding to be parents. Funnily, their lives seem a little boring or lost, which might imply they are, if it were not for Charlotte's major frustrations in mothering (i.e. her kids cry and scream a lot and she hides from them in the pantry). Is there more to this equation?

So many older woman I meet, tell me that I should enjoy my kids because they grow so fast. Do they remember how much work babies are? How you lose your identity, style, sense of time, etc. It is an immense amount of unidentifiable work being at home, following my kids everywhere, missing out on high society or "adult fun." I felt the most angst during David's sixth month through his second year. Somehow at two, a switch turned and realized how much I enjoyed waking up to possibilities, not have routine and his brilliant language and engagement with the world and me. I have doubts about my skill as a mom, but just appreciating his mind is blissful. I love his waking and not getting up, but calling my name, his super energy which he says comes from bouncing, and his passion. When he turns my face to look into his eyes and says something like, "that makes mommy sad," or "who put that [scary dream] in my head." He is an amazing kids and I just love him.

The baby is a baby. Loved for his smallness, his helplessness, my role in supporting his every need, etc. I look in his eyes and try to connect because that is what I am supposed to do, but it is mostly physical work and exhaustion. But I choose kids. I always knew I wanted them. For 9 years of marriage, I happily lived without them, but at this point I join all the annoying people who take a side and have to say why everyone should carefully consider kids.

Yes, there are sleepless nights for several months and complete loss of personal time and space (not to mention the pressure of actually nurturing them to greatness), but on the other side is a truthful awareness of my humanity, and a stretching in every way, all leading me to become a better person. For me it is loving beyond believing and of having a long term family. David changes my experience of life, holidays, eating, mornings, playing and all is exuberant and full of drama. He makes me realize how complex we are in developing and how much we are capable of connecting.

This lead me to personally proclaim that I would not trade David or Isaac for my independence.

Playing the Victim

The past week has been an emotional one, with exhaustion and heat and a baby inside me that is weighing on my body and soul. I have cried a lot and blamed everyone I can think of for not being more supportive.

In saying it is everyone else's fault, I know that I give up my power and play the role of victim. From some things I recently read about "conscious living," the victim roll is an comfortable place to sit, when you want to drift along and do nothing. There is a sense that you give yourself over to others and let go of choices. It is hard for me to know how to shift back into my own sense of self! I question my role in staying at home with kids, being dependent on others financially and forever having to justify my work and my time. Did I do anything today, because I know at least one person who would say, no. Did I cook, clean, nurture my son, manage everything and if I did something outside of that role, was that selfish. I guess the bottom line is what is my value? Ouch, this one makes me cry, because I don't feel very valued in the eyes of others, which I suppose means I don't value myself much right now.

In my attempt to gain my power back, I have made some demands of others. I am lousy at it, in that I come across as ungrateful and controlling. I think this week I need to be clear in saying what I want. I want to have this baby. I want to write. I want to have Internet access at all times. I want sympathy for being 38 weeks pregnant. I want to let go of household chores. I want to let people's opinions be theirs and not mine. I want to pamper myself, even if I can't think of how. I want to take the entire day off on Monday. This list all feels selfish, but I am not going to delete it.  Deep breath!

Being in My Own World

I spent a few days in Chicago with David this past week. It was a strange adventure for us, with me being 8 months pregnant, David being a little more concerned about his surroundings, and the realization that I am a real foreigner to those parts. No one hailed me as a native, even though I spent almost 10 years in the area.

I saw running friends and working friends and realized that I do not miss the intensity of their lives. The deadlines and stresses and big goals were things that used to consume me, but now sound commical. Not to say that I will not work or run again, as I hope to do both, but those areas do not define me and I do not feel less of a person without them.

I really enjoy being at home every day. Wow, I really can't believe I could say that, but it is true. I love writing, artist collaboratives, watching shows, my neighbors and my family. I don't know if anyone can relate to that, because it is not the thing I am dialoguing with anyone about, but I feel good just saying it!