On having a daughter.

This second pregnancy has been smoother, faster, and healthier.  I feel less chaotic and psychotic than my first, in which I did a lot of crying, a lot of yelling.  I wasn't nearly this balanced with Elijah, and suffered from pretty profound postpartum depression (if you've read my blog before, you may know this).  My psychosis and anxiety ran so deep that it was one of the only reasons I considered not going through with a future accidental pregnancy.  I had a deep fear of myself after what I went through with Elijah, and so the way this pregnancy has gone is a sigh of deep relief.  

When I found out, I immediately connected with the little rose bud inside of me.  I smiled mistily in disbelief and gratitude, and held on to the belly that lingered from this one's brother.  That day, I put myself on a path to ground myself in wellness (which I have done better with at times than others) and self appreciation.  I've been able to connect with this light body inside of my belly in a demystified way that can only come with the veil having been lifted through the birth of a previous child.  This second pregnancy is profoundly different.  I've been so grateful.

But now I am terrified.

Elijah predicted this.  Of course, I'm not surprised that my utterly intuitive three-year-old knew the nature of this baby- he's been nothing but gushing over his "baby sister", but I only indulged him.  I could care less, or so I thought.  After all, I didn't with him.  With him, I thought I wanted a girl, and when he was a boy instead and I realized the joy of mothering a sweet little man, the whole thing became arbitrary.  And theoretically speaking, the sex of a baby makes not a damn bit of difference.  I'm not interested in the cultural indoctrination of gender.  

But suffice it to say, at the risk of political correctness, the reveal of this baby's sex, one that happened due to my aforementioned ambivalence and the excitement of said three-year-old, has made a drastic shift in my perception.  Due to a combination of several factors, including an intensely unhealthy relationship with my own mother, my spiritual beliefs regarding the power of women, and deeply held political ideologies, the weight of having a daughter is heavy to my soul.  My ex mother-in-law always talked about how much "easier" boys were- how they always loved on and supported their mothers- but how daughters would tear your guts out without even blinking, how vicious they could be, and I would laugh knowingly, looking back on my relationship with my mother and how awful and vicious I was to her, the deep anger I held and acted out toward her and how aware I was of it without caring at all.  I was deeply wounded as a child because my mother didn't have a "mother" of her own, in any known sense of the word, and so no examples were given her of stability, of emotional availability or gentle nurturing.  

So these deep fears have come up, and I'm in the private process of bracing myself not against a wall, but against solutions, tools.  I am a gentle mother to Elijah, despite having put him in the unfortunate position of being "motherless" for part of the time, so most of the fear of myself as a mother has no place.  But the chain remains unbroken- my mother and I are taking our own chips at it but it really is much bigger than us sometimes.  It's a long lineage of resentment, jealousy, and just plain meanness.  I feel like I'm going to be too tough on her, that I'm going to be awkward and unavailable, or conversely dependent on her validation of my worth as a woman.  I'm afraid of being ripped apart and being simply not good enough.  I can't imagine a greater vulnerability.  

And now the pressure is really on.  All of the ways I've been meaning to embody The Mother, the great goddess or what have you, can no longer wait.  I've been able to put them off until now.  But raising daughters, I believe, is serious business.  It's a scary world for them, and there's so much healing to do.  (It should be noted, of course, that all forms of motherhood, and parenthood for that matter, is serious business, and I take raising my son no less to heart, but my feelings are clearly so different.  Elijah has taught me the depths of compassion that must be opened up for him as a future man in the world.  As much as I wish it weren't, this is much different.)  

I wish I didn't feel a distinction.  I wish I could just raise my children in their fully appreciated selves without regard to what I thought to be arbitrary news.  And really, still, at the end of the day, I could give two shits about having boys or girls (in the way people want one or the other).  But the emotions in me are undeniable, and for the sake of future vulnerability, honesty, and heartfelt discomfort, here they are.  

I have faith that all of my children will be fully realized versions of the beautiful beings they are sent here to be.  It's just scarier than hell to know how much of that rests on me.  

Overcoming My Fear of Rejection, or Accepting Acceptance

The past day or so has been rough.  It's hard to know where to start with this enormous project, where to most effectively spend my energy (and other funds), and sometimes it feels like I'm just leaking out the sides.  A wave of depression came rolling through, which always makes my ears prick up a little, listening for the sound of intuition, of something out of place.  I come to my senses.  I journaled and broke through the crying barrier last night, so there's not a terrible amount to divulge.  But the issues of rejection, acceptance, and unconditional self-love need to be spoken on.  

For as long as I can remember, I've been caught in a cycle of desperately needing acceptance due to rejection I felt as a child growing up with an incarcerated and addicted father, pushing people away who know their limitations of what they can and can't give me, furthering my sense of rejection, thus my deep need for acceptance.  This has played out in every relationship, several friendships, and my connection to myself.  


I've attempted to open my heart recently, only to become aware of this stuff once again.  Natalie writes an amazing piece on this over at Baggage Reclaim:

From the moment that someone decides that they no longer want you or that they no longer value you or the relationship enough to want to try and they make the decision to opt out, you need to start working towards not wanting them either.

Wanting people that don’t want you, nevermind respect, value, love, or care about you, is a surefire sign that you have lost your way.

I definitely felt lost yesterday.  To lay it out, I've got several fishing poles out on the dating scene, and the way I've been feeling has made me want to pull them all in.  I'm not sure if I can go through it anymore- putting myself out there- not until I've got some things straight.  

Natalie keeps going, though, offering some harsh truths:

You’re too busy feeling the pain of your own bruised ego that you have lost sight of reality.

I’m not even convinced that you truly want him; you just need him to want you.

Really, the whole thing is worth reading.  

Mostly, I'm worried about the fear of doing this again.  I don't want to be emotionally unavailable.  I get what she says about only investing time and energy in people that value me, not detract from my value.  It's about manifesting relationships/friendships through my own sense of worth instead of seeking it from other people looking to play by their own rules.  Vulnerability is scary, though.  But as we know from Brene Brown's TED Talk, people with higher senses of self worth fear vulnerability less.  Actually, they see it as essential to a deeper sense of connection.







This is all part of my recovery.  Please feel free to share with me where you are at in yours.  We can only give what we have, and right now I've got some big balls of wax to melt before I can make that really luscious calendula cream that everybody keeps asking me about.

Intro to Codependent Polyamory

WHEW! What a week.

It's late at night and what I really wanted to get on here to write about, even though there's much to choose from, is my romantic scenario.  Ugh.  Nobody wants to hear this crap but here I am venting.  Maybe this will help someone.  I never know.

My future looks lovely but right now I'm in a tangle of emotions, trying to be honest with myself about how I feel, guarding my heart, and learning some lessons yet again.  I'm okay, though.  I started talking to a guy, right after I ended a relationship, on OKCupid- we talked every day online for three weeks, tried it out when we met and it's ended up in us not spending any time together and sleeping with other people.  He doesn't seem that interested in me anymore and I'm wondering why I'm even spending that much time and thought on him.  Meanwhile, my husband, who I just had sex with for the first time in a year, starts treating me like a goddess and says he wants to date me.  Hell.  I don't know what I have the energy for.  I don't feel strong enough emotionally to take any of it on, but my emotions are still so strong.  But I'm not putting my eggs in one basket.  I did it for a minute with the guy I've been seeing.  The reality of it is that he doesn't have time for me and I need attention.

I think that what I need is to go to Denver, make out with a bunch of queers and remember who I am, how I love, and what I'm all about.  I'm not about chasing dudes in this drinking town around.  If you want to ditch me to watch sports while I encapsulate placentas and eat dinner with my friends, be my guest.

I really do envision myself in a great open relationship that is completely egalitarian, where I feel safe to express and explore myself, where I know I wont be judged, where I'm not afraid of them leaving because I feel secure, appreciated, and understood.  I see myself being free in my body, experiencing all types of pleasure in my life, creating abundance, and nourishing every part of myself.  And having amazing sex and nothing less.

This will all pass, all of this conflict of emotions, the push and pull of want, desire and rejection.  Affection then neglect.  He said he was overwhelmed by me.  Blah blah blah.

Maybe it would just be easier to be with somebody who knows me.  Seriously, where are the other stand-up men unafraid of commitment?

To say that this is not about me being alone would be a lie.  Of course it is.  I need a lover.  But one that will love me.

Is that so much to ask?

The point is not to analyze it for what it was, but to see it for the small thing that it all is and figure out where I am.  What I am vs. where I was.  I want all of these things because I have finally, for the first time, felt like I deserve all of this, truly.  It rings true for me now.  A very poignant story about personal truth and self esteem:  Angela Barber was living in my house last summer and she was telling me of a healer that came to her in the hospital when she was there for a major accident for some time.  He asked her above all else, what she believed to be true.  She said, "I know I am loved."  As Angela told me this, I was stunned by the deadening silence of untruth in me that statement brought.  It made no sense that I was unloved, but I felt an utter emptiness in me that has since filled with a deep sense of gratefulness for every part of me.  Sometimes people ask me what it is that changed in me, and the simplest way to put it is that I realized that nothing would change until I started loving myself.

How do you start loving yourself?  You just accept the fact (the truth) that anything anybody has ever said to you to bring you down, cast doubt on you, or cause you pain was a fucking LIE.  The minute you start loving yourself is the one when everything changes.

My conclusion, for now, is that I want to treat myself the way I want to be treated.  Like a goddess?  Fine, it's on.  I'm going to treat myself like a goddess.   I'm not waiting on anybody else to make the first step.  Because I deserve it.  Why should I depend on anybody to get what I deserve?