If you want to learn how little you know about yourself move across the country. We heard a sermon in Akron before we left where our pastor used the illustration that you don’t know who you are until you see how you are reflected back by your community. You do something good for people, the community reflects your generosity, you learn you’re a generous person. That reflection forms your identity.
He then used the same illustration to explain the Gospel. Well, this blog post is not about that. It’s only about the first part of the illustration, how your self image is made up of reflections from your community. I know about 15 people here now, maybe 30, but only 10 or so I know well and see regularly. In Akron I knew every one and everyone knew me. I knew everyone because that’s the way Akron was. It was the biggest small town I’ve ever known. It was both comfortable and overwhelming. And all of that identity reflection was very comfortable after beginning a family life so quickly I felt like I was reeling a little. Put the pieces back together, make some good plans, do some quality work in the community and next thing you know I’ve got some pretty good self esteem and life is good. Then pick everything up and leave that mirror behind.
Trying to get back to work here has been hard. I have learned about myself that I’m not very good a being only a stay-at-home-mom. I’m too worried about what I’m going to do once the kids are gone and I’ve spent the last 20 years driving back and forth from playdates. I haven’t said that out loud very much because I don’t want to insult my fellow stay-at-homers who feel complete in their callings. I steer away from controversy because I can hear it clanging in my ears. But I’m going to try to be more honest in my writing. It’s time.
So, I have been struggling to get back on the doula-work bandwagon. I went from 9 births in one year, to 1 birth in a year. The silence is deafening and misplacing my doula-work identity mirror has left me wondering who I am again. I’ve been trying to fill in some of the gaps in my knowledge of web design while I wait for my birthworkers network to grow. Some things about web design are well suited to my natural strengths, some are a major struggle for me to understand. I spent a few nights trying to hash out the discrepancies between my understanding of php and the reality of php only to come crashing head-on into an identity crisis. I am trying to get positive feedback about who I am as a person based on how well I understand computer stuff. I am lacking something.
Out of the group of wonderful people I’ve met here I’m growing close with a handful of them. I was very blessed that one of these people texted me for an impromptu park date the morning after my php-meltdown. She is going through a similarly disruptive year so we can talk about the things that are hurting us …and there is the mirror I’ve been looking for. She called me out for being too hard on myself, and said important things like, “You have to let yourself feel what you’re feeling.” And together we puzzled over what is going on and that’s how I figured out that I’m struggling to know myself as a mom.
I want to write about this. I want to figure out what’s going on in my mind and in the collective American mind. How does feminism and parenting fit together? How can I build my own life confidently while not pointing out how others are doing it wrong just to make myself feel better? How can I share my experience as someone who’s survived some really rough times, and how that informs my choices as a parent? And how can I do it without letting myself be a victim of the random internet-shaming from strangers? So much is going on in the collective American Woman experience that I have to share about, from the #yesallwomen movement to airlines continuing (STILL?!!?!) to harass passengers for breastfeeding on flights to trying to raise three STEM strong girls in a bro-technology culture. I’m going to start talking about this instead of just puzzling over it while I drive or take a shower. I’m going to share my struggles about it because it wouldn’t be Love and Blunder if I didn’t. And I’m hoping that once I find my voice again I won’t spend so much time looking for my reflection in the wrong mirrors.