In conjunction with my self-loathing this week, there's been one of the year's theme songs relentlessly making it's way through my heart and head:
She's the best. I giggle a little as I think about that conversation. We were seated nearest the kitchen, which is open, exposing the chef and his staff. My fake sister-in-law and I are, at times, loud and intense. Sometimes it looks like we're fighting, when we're really just digging wildly through all the b.s. to get to the heart of a matter. Sometimes there are tears, usually followed by insane giggling. We were the recipients of more than one concerned look that night!
Well, whatever, we talked about her stuff, then worked through mine. In the end, I determined I need to figure out exactly what my "dream" is in regards to the different types of relationships I currently participate in.
I cancelled a date tonight (you're welcome, sir) because I've finally reached a boiling point. I have to write.
Oh, by-the-way, this blog is going to be super-duper long too. I have lots to say and I've lost the ability to be tidy with my words since I told you about Randy. Incidentally, I should note: I also spent the last couple of weeks perfecting a "that girl" routine with Randy. I'm beside myself with a billion crazy emotions that I still have no idea how to put to rest. There's another song at the end of this blog that keeps being played randomly. I finally looked it up today because it takes me to my knees every time. The Randy situation is all over the lyrics... If you read that far, enjoy. For now, I've spent far too much time talking or thinking about him on this blog, in 2012, for a lifetime, actually. I have other business to address...
Here are my 2013 (and beyond) self-assessments and dreams for the relationships of my life:
1. Sister
The assessment:
As the oldest girl, second oldest kid in a family with eight kids (yes, that's a lot and yes, it was a busy life and yes, my parents do in fact know what causes that as well as what birth control is, and no we are neither Catholic nor Mormon. And no, I do not want a big family of my own and yes, I liked growing up that way- I don't know who I would have gotten rid of to make it any different), I have always had more of a motherly relationship with most of my siblings, excepting the two closest to me in age. The brother eighteen months younger than me was my best friend in my younger days, although the brother right under him in order, was his best friend. My older sibling is relationally reserved and relatively unknown, anymore, by me.
I work hard to maintain contact with everyone, and although we are scattered throughout the world, I do a fairly good job on my end. I love them all and would absolutely give anything and everything to any one of them.
As they get married and have kids, relationships in the sibling dynamic, get increasingly complicated. Aside from the obvious logistics, doubling, tripling, even quadrupling the number of personalities per household becomes a midnight trek through a tricky field of landmines. Bad moods, misunderstandings, differing personal tastes and thinly stretched shared "special moments" inevitably have caused hurt feelings. The last time the eight of us were all in the same room was in 2004. We have never had all of the cousins in the same room together, nor have we ever had all of the spouses together at once.
The dream:
I want to be able to undo 30 years of "mothering" my siblings. Although the role of "Second in Command" made me a strong, capable woman, it did rob me of certain aspects of childhood carefree bliss. At times I resent that and it's completely possible my siblings resent portions of our relationship as a result. I want a natural, equal-ground, kind of friendship with each of them. I want to be a trusted confidant in a reciprocated relationship with each of them as well as with their spouses.
2 Mother
The assessment:
I have spent a little less than 15 years reminding myself that I'm not a good mom. We all do it. Most of what I have drawn on to support that thinking, though, is the verbal confirmation I was so freely offered, for years, by a few of those formerly allowed way too far into my life. After they exited, I started seeing the truth. I am not a bad mom. I am not a perfect mom. I am a mom that does what she can and, although occasionally beats herself up for it, doesn't do what she can't.
I am not a dad. I never will have a father's skill set or input right or life experience to speak "dad things" into my children's lives. We will just have a fatherless household. Ours is not the first nor will it be the last. They have a dad, and although there are many, many experiences they deserve that a two parent household would offer, they have other things... like two Christmases, as my daughter so cheerfully reminded me. Someday they might even get a two-parent household experience, who knows.
They are who they are, already. If I was going to mess them up, the damage is done. Quite honestly, I'm starting to believe I have had very little to do with who they've become. I set boundaries early on, they responded and became who they are within those boundaries. They are such cool people. My only job now is to maintain those boundaries as we wade through life's options together...
The dream:
The most important thing in my relationships with my kids is to know them. I want them to be them, unfiltered, unedited. I want honesty, even if it's ugly. I need to work on how I respond when they try to be open with me as while they fumble through discovering who they actually are. I need to be careful that I don't shut them down and stunt our relationship.
I want wisdom to know how to transition from stage to stage and when to back off or step in. I want grace for myself, just like they give me, for when I mess all that up. I need to solidify the narrative I now have about myself. I am a good mom.
3 Daughter
The complexity of this role has me exhausted. I already told you I somehow took on the "second in command" role somewhere around kindergarten. Because of some of those experiences, roles as a 35 year old daughter feel muddy sometimes.
I don't know exactly how to assess where I fit, for now, but I do have a dream:
I want to be me. Unfiltered. Unedited. Acceptable. I want to be seen as capable. I want to know I make them proud, all the time.
4 Friend
The assessment:
I have a ton of acquaintances. However, I have only a few, intensely amazing friends. I am a good friend. I have never had a problem being a friend, I have had HUGE problems recognizing who is worth being a friend to. In 2012 I refined the definition of "friend" and now I can finally say I absolutely love this, and possibly ONLY this, about the otherwise uncomfortable desert I'm roaming through, called "life".
The dream:
Really, can you lengthen and deepen friendship too far? Doubtful. I do not intend to batten down the hatches with my few, intensely amazing friends. I want to maintain them, grow them and add to the number, if the opportunity arises...
5 Aunt
The assessment:
On Saturday I became "Aunt Collene" to a fourth niece, tipping the scales to 4-3 in the niece-nephew count. Everything about that day was incredible, unexpected, miraculous... But that's for a different blog. I love being Aunt Collene. My nieces and nephews have awesome parents and for the first time, I don't feel the need to "mother" anyone when I'm with them. The ones who are old enough to be aware of how they feel, love me. They even remind me often. A four year old nephew sent me a valentine last February and a four year old niece is constantly kissing my nose and telling me she "loves me better".
I was humbled to be in the delivery room Saturday when my newest niece came into the world. Four years ago I witness the c-section birth of my nose-kissing, mini-me niece. Seven years ago I was honored to be the labor coach for my sister-in-law when my oldest nephew was born. It was at my house six years ago, that his mother got pregnancy confirmation regarding his sister. I was honored to be one of the few people able to hold both my three pound niece and her two pound brother while they spent their first months of life in the NICU. I was so blessed to represent our family for another nephew's first birthday at their naval duty station thousands of miles across the water.
Those special moments are bonding and addicting! I dream of making memories with each of them that are lifelong memories for each of us. I love seeing their personalities take shape and measuring the growth that changes them physically, emotionally and even spiritually as the years pass.
6 Woman
The assessment:
"Wife" would have been a more accurate word, except it's not. I've thought a lot about my hysterectomy this week. Except for the "uterine envy" I had when my niece was born- which is part of this angst I carry all the time and really a "someday" topic for a whole different blog too, I really was relating my hysterectomy to amputation... You hear about "phantom pains" that the amputee feels for awhile after surgery, where the lost appendage seems to itch or hurt. My surgery was like that. I had labor-like phantom pain for a few weeks after the surgery.
"Wife" is my phantom pain. For a couple of years after the divorce I had such a hard time doing normal things like grocery shopping or paying bills or getting dressed... I would catch myself thinking like a wife, aaaaaaand now I'm not. I've floundered. A lot. I am less lost three years later, but I still have not developed past a few of the glitches...
I was a good wife. No, I was a very good wife. I am a natural team-thinking, relational, support-role, lover, room-in-my-heart-for-only-one-man-at-a-time, kind of girl. Instead of hashing the has-beens of my life I need to address the phantom pains and re-define "wife" as "woman". I may never be called "wife" again, so I am finding that THIS is critical, if only for the meal preparation and house-keeping aspects of my life...
Last spring I went flower shopping with my fake big sister. I wanted to enhance the curb appeal of my house, and although that was a total loss because of the lack of water, intense heat and my 11 hour days at work, I did learn something about myself. I had never gone shopping for my entire garden at the same time and quite honestly, had only halfheartedly planted anything before.
As I checked out with my friend, she said "Wow, Collene! I guess you never really get to know your friends until you flower shop with them." I was confused and asked what she meant. She said, "well, I would have never picked those out for you, I'm just surprised by your choices. They're beautiful and I love what you did." Okay, whatever that means. I guess she approves, but why she was surprised I still wasn't sure. I took the flats home and was unloaded them when my fake sister-in-law came by. "Oh, pretty! You got flowers!" She sounded surprised. I told her I had gone with my fake big sister... A few minutes later she commented, also, that she was surprised by my choices. Um, what the heck? So I asked what she meant. "Well, it's just that they are so dainty and feminine. I usually associate you with bolder colors and coarser textures." Um, okay... She went on to explain that even the clothing I had been buying lately surprised her. I was buying soft, lacy, feminine, pretty stuff. She liked it.
Because my fake sister-in-law is never surfacey, she quickly turned the conversation about pretty, fragile, soft flowers to the life choices in my past. Since she's known me forever, she's seen my home decor in multiple houses and my personal style (or lack of, really). She has been down-right irritated that even my wedding wasn't "mine". She brought that up again. "Collene, I can't wait to see you develop into the woman that you are restricting for the sake of everyone around you." Okay, wow, I'm going to think twice before I plant flowers again, but for the last nine months I've noticed in other ways that she's absolutely right.
Just this weekend, many of the "girl" things I naturally gravitate towards were referred to as "prissy" in a less than flattering way by someone I love. I sensed my protective walls go up. Well, if that's unacceptable in that person's eyes, I will edit myself around that person, so I can be acceptable, I thought. They can never know I'm, by that definition, "prissy" at heart...
I am discovering that I am incredibly soft internally. Soft does not equal weak, but I've been told over and over, in a million ways, that it does. To counter the perceived weakness, I've spent decades being unnecessarily harsh or guarded and now, I'm tired.
The dream:
I want to be real. I want to be feminine and strong. I do not want to be guarded and harsh. I want stupid flowers, for crying out loud. I love being a woman and I shouldn't be anything but. I will try to set aside my teammate intuition and figure out how to function fully, alone. I will never wear lots of pink, nor will I ever buy myself roses. Not because they're prissy, but because I hate pink on me and roses are cliche, bumperstickery flowers. I will, however, wear lace and quite possibly leather with amazing heels in 2013.
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