The next time I want to tell myself I’m a horrible mother, I am willing myself to recall these moments just as much as the reel-to-reel of my failures. I am willing myself to see the good as much as I find the bad.
I am not a perfect mother. More often than not, I would tell you I’m a failure. I will list every time I lost my temper, yelled, got angry, screwed up, I.e. was a human being in general, and so on. The expectations create such irrational equations. 2 x 0 is always going to equal 0, so if there’s no problems, there’s no solutions.
For all my shortcomings, I have this. I have me writing a story and her illustrating my story. These moments are perfect fodder for my perfect social media existence where I can seem like I have a clue because I control the context. It also serves as tangible reminders to me that I’m not who I think I am.
Like our social media identity, we all control the context of our minds. Except, more often, the newsfeed of my mind’s statuses feature all the things I wouldn’t want to put on Facebook. It is so easy to recall all the did nots, it outshines all the did (unless other people are looking).
If this year…hell, this decade has taught my stubborn butt anything, it is the destructive force of trying to be perfect. Life is perfect, I am not. Life exists as my astrological sign – libra – the scales. If, for every screw up there’s growth, kisses, apologies, love, encouragement…there is perfect balance. I think this simple truth escapes many because I don’t think my internal newsfeed is all that unique.
I cannot express how much my children have taught me and how woefully inadequate I feel I am to be their mom. Yet, they’re my kids, so clearly I’m it. All I’m really doing is putting to words what they’ve taught me by driving me crazy. Literally and figuratively. When you’re a deeply repressed and disassociated person, those closest to you will constantly push all of your buttons until you start wondering why you are the way you are. As it was intended.
Einstein said, “God does not play dice.” Dr. Ian Malcolm said, “Chaos theory” That little girl on the taco commercial said, “why not both?” Everything is perfectly designed, and imperfectly chaotic at the same time. That is to say, there are no accidents, but there are a lot of mistakes. How else can anyone learn?
Perfectionism made me chase all of the good, but the more good I sought, the more bad I created. If I’m going to try to be Supermom, I am going to have to battle some villains. How else would I learn to be Supermom?
The more I can see that everything truly does have an equal and opposite reaction, the less I try for good. The more I try for justice, harmony, acceptance. Where my flaws are real and I try my best, just like everyone else. Where my gifts are real, and I am doing a great job, just like everyone else. Where, instead of trying to prove myself right and be as awful as I try not to be, I.e insanity…I just see that I can make mistakes and apologize. I can be angry and be loving. I can teach more by not trying to teach and just show that it’s perfectly okay to be yourself. Where “why not both” doesn’t solely apply to tacos!
I think it’s perfectly okay to mess up, as long as you can remember all of the times you didn’t, too. Hell, I’ll bet the more I can remember these moments, the more I’ll have them too. Seems to me, when I focus on screwing up, I always prove myself right. It’s that attraction thing Dr. Malcolm referred to.
In truth, all the bad things that happened “to me” end up being the best thing to happen “for me”. So, clearly I don’t know all of the variables. Fine particles of hair on my hand could have led the droplet of water to my psychosis, you know? One thing I do know is replacing “to me” with “for me” is the very reason why I can be thankful for that psychosis.
I was chosen to be their mom because all of my mistakes become their lessons. All the things that drive me nuts are designed to teach me so I stop making the mistakes I’m supposed to make. God doesn’t play dice. (He creates dinosaurs, kills them, creates man, gets killed by man, man creates dinosaurs, dinosaurs kill man, women inherit the earth. Duh) ⚖️ 🦕
#iamwriting #goldblumforgod2020
Mah Butt Itches 
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