Free

Ever since I watched the Brene Brown TED talk on vulnerability, I have been more aware of the times when I feel guarded and instances when I exert control.  The essence of her talk is that one must be vulnerable in order to feel the full measure of emotions such as joy and love.

I have raised five teenagers.  There are three more to go.  Lately, the experience has been riddled with sadness, worry and frankly not a lot of joy.

Raising my first born, I held onto the image of perfection.  After all, I was raised on Leave it to Beaver, The Brady Bunch and the antics of the Huxtable family.  As a first time parent I learned so much about myself.  And even though decades have past since my son was a teenager, I continue to discover new things about myself through my role as a parent. Perhaps at times I cling to the notion of perfectionism.

Today during lunch I called a friend who I have not seen for a long time.  She is wholly accepting of me.  She knows more about me and the inner workings of my quirky brain than any other person.   I can sit on her couch and be totally transparent, without fear. There is mutual trust.  I daresay that I have not encountered this often in my life. In her presence I allow myself to be vulnerable.

Struggles with raising teenagers in this era, often cloud my vision of who I am.  Preferably, I would like to be a fully joyful parent, free of strife and anxiety; at least some of the time.   I look forward to seeing her tomorrow.   It is sure that  together we will laugh, cry and dream in a space of time where I can be accepting of who I am and make no apologies.  Totally vulnerable.  Free.

Is it Different?

My mother at 43 gave birth to her last child.  My sister Bethany, a feisty sort even at three years old tested my mother’s common sense, at least from the perspective of others.   In the dead of winter with fingers stiff and numb, my mother regularly hung the clothes on the line.  One particularly cold day, she could not get in the house. Bethany had locked the door.  My mother became a negotiator on the frigid side of the door.  This was only one incident of many that helped fuel others’ perspective that having a baby in your 40’s and raising a child into your 50’s and 60’s is crazy stuff.  

At nearly 60 my youngest is 14. A daughter.  I am not so sure that I am approaching late age motherhood as gracefully as my mother did.  The world was different when my mother raised her last.  War was happening across the expanse of the earth.  Far away. News came days later via newsprint or through mail. Today the globe has shrunk.  Every little decision made has instantaneous repercussions.  The internet is a blessing and a curse.  Our lives are no longer private.  Boundaries are blurred. There is some real disfunction out there.  All these elements, in my mind, puts my daughter at risk.  Much of my brain space is spent in my desire to protect, which at times robs me from the joy of mothering.  

The mamas of today balance the wonders of the world with the dangers of the world.  Did my mother worry as much as I do? She made it look so easy and so much fun.

Scared

‘Truth is

I worry.

I want to trust

Mankind,

But just listen,

The news

Is not

Good.

You want so

To

Connect.

You

Trust

So easily,

How can

I possibly

Protect

You?

Simply,

I love you,

And

I am

Scared.