Healing

Last September, shortly after moving into my own place, I went into Moss & Timber to find a plant. I walked straight up to one of the employees and shamelessly asked, "of all the plants you have, which one is the most resilient? Like, which one can I basically not kill?" He chuckled at me, and I didn't mind one bit.

It turned out the Zamioculcas zamiifolia, or "ZZ plant," was the best choice. He walked me over to the ZZ section and left me to look. It didn't take long before I found the perfect one, chose a beautiful cream-colored pot, watched her get transferred, and happily drove home, being extra careful not to turn too hard for fear of her tipping over. I found the perfect spot for her on my bedside table, set her down, and told her she was beautiful.

ZZ plants only need water every 2-3 weeks. I kept mental track and watered her when needed. After a few weeks, she seemed to still be doing fine. Every so often when I walked through my room to do something I'd remember to stop and tell her how beautiful she was looking and that I was proud of her. One day, as I was walking by, I glanced at her and stopped dead in my tracks. It nearly took my breath away. I leaned in close and noticed that a new sprout had come through the soil. It wasn't dark green, strong, and mature like the other parts, it was new and bright green and full of light. I felt something rise within my chest and tears came to my eyes. And then a voice whispered, "this is what healing looks like."

Day in and day out, I've been doing the work. So much so that it often doesn't feel like work anymore. Talking to close friends and being vulnerable about how I'm doing: sometimes great, and sometimes really not great. Kneeling down and pleading with my Savior to help me be more than I can be on my own. Relaxing into the discomfort of feeling lonely and craving companionship. Journaling, pondering, and striving to make improvements. Countless hours in therapy trying to learn new tools and mend the painful pieces of my life. These things just feel like everyday life. I'll be going along and all of a sudden

BOOM. I stop abruptly and hold still. It feels like liquid gold trickling through my veins and a warmth comes over me. It's the moments where I wake up in the morning and realize I slept through the night without having a bad dream. Or an anniversary comes up on the calendar and I don't feel like I'm going to break. Or I sit in a bubble bath without music or a phone or a book and just FEEL how I'm feeling without eating a pint of ice cream to numb the pain. In those moments I can tell that I'm healing. They are so brief and beautiful, and they always catch me completely off guard.

One of the most important things James (my therapist) has taught me is that "healing isn't linear." One moment I'll be feeling like my emotions are pretty stable and the next moment I'll find myself driving to the gym on a Sunday to hit a punching bag until my knuckles bleed. Healing is sort of ugly, but it's also sort of beautiful. Because in the midst of the pain and heartache and desperation and daily grind it brushes past my cheek and whispers, "you're doing it. this is what healing looks like."

Mom Guilt

 A few days ago Alexa, who's seven years old, was headed outside to play with a neighbor when she said, "Mom, I want you to quit your job. I hate that you work now." It stung for a millisecond before I responded by validating how she felt and explaining that now that I'm not married my job helps us have the money we need to pay for things like our home and food. She went on to share that "she hates it because I'm not able to play with her as much." I told her that I understand and was sorry that it felt hard for her. And as she walked out the door and the silence set in, do you want to know what I felt? Immense gratitude.

As I reflected on our conversation, I realized that there was more I wish I had said. I wanted to bring it back up to share the reasons I love my job so much. I wanted to tell her that I find immense fulfillment when I write. I wanted to tell her that figuring out how words fit together is challenging, beautiful, and exciting for me. I wanted to tell her that I like communicating with adults and being part of a team. And I did tell her those things later. But what I did not do was apologize for our circumstances. 

I used to feel quite uncomfortable with the term "single mom." I don't exactly know why. Maybe it was because I'm not a huge fan of "labels." Or maybe I just hoped I'd never be in the position where I was one. But I can honestly say that I have exactly zero shame about being single and a mother at the same time. When I think about how much my life has changed in the past year, sometimes I feel a bit dizzy. In March of 2021, when I started looking for work, I felt a LOT of emotions. Scared, excited, sad, worried, and hopeful. I first started searching for a job in daycare because I felt passionate about being with my littles as much as possible, and that seemed like a good option to make money and be with them at the same time.

On the same day I scheduled my first interview for a full-time daycare job, I was at a late-night dance class with a bunch of my girlfriends at the gym. My interview was scheduled for the next day. In the middle of class, I walked into the locker room, sat on a bench, and bawled my eyes out. None of my friends, except for McKenna, knew what I was going through. I felt grief wash over me as I thought about how getting this job would mean no more get-togethers with mom friends during the weekdays. I wouldn't be able to go to a 10:30a gym class, meet with a group for lunch, or do our usual lay out at Caring's house and tan while the kids played in the splash pad. I thought of the past five+ years I'd spent as a stay-at-home-mom and how much I'd cherished the flexibility to go where I wanted when I wanted. And I felt like all of that could literally be over tomorrow. After I felt all the things, I pulled myself together and went back in to finish up the class. My moves were ON POINT, but my heart felt a bit broken.

About two minutes into that interview I knew it wasn't the right fit for me. I kept searching, and the following month I was hired to write job ads from home. To be completely transparent, figuring out how to effectively work from home WHILE taking care of multiple small children has probably been the most challenging thing of this whole process. But I am GRATEFUL because it's the kind of hard that I wanted. 

In the past 9 months, I have done a lot of work on adjusting my expectations. My kids probably watch more movies than they did before I started working. We've had mac n' cheese with home-canned green beans for lunch or dinner more times than I can count. Sometimes the laundry stays in baskets for days, and I think I've asked my girls to make their own beds like, three times total. And you know what? I'm a FREAKING GOOD MOM. 

I love my kids so hard. I encourage them to tell me what they're feeling, even if it might be hard for me to hear. They know that treating others poorly isn't tolerated in our home. We talk about being like Jesus Christ. I deeply soak in the sweet moments that I do have because of how different my time looks these days. When I drive to or from school, I get out of the car every single time to hold their hand, give them a hug, and let them know that I love them. In the evenings I crawl around like a monster and tackle, kiss, and tickle Dax until he squeals, or I rock him in the chair before putting him down to sleep, because I often don't hold him during the day when I'm writing. A lot of the time I'm focused on work, not my kids. So when I'm not working, we do all the things. We play at the park. We shop for clothes. We lay in the grass and look at clouds. We go for walks. We eat out and go to the movies. We make moments magical by wishing on stars and eyelashes and dandelions.

I'm not sharing these things to prove to you that I'm a good mom. I'm sharing them to show you that "being a good mom" is literally whatever you choose to make it. Sure, I have thoughts about things I wish I were doing better. But I refuse to let those define how I feel about myself. And I'm not suggesting that improvement be sacrificed at the expense of complacency. But what I am suggesting is that "mom guilt," whether you're married, single, working, stay-at-home, or whatever else, is just you letting your brain, or other people, tell you that you aren't enough. And that's simply not true.

Eleanor Roosevelt said it best. "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." So stop giving your own brain consent to convince you that you're not good enough. I CHOOSE to feel good enough. As an unmarried, 29-year-old dance fitness instructing, job-ad writing female who's raising three little kids while working from home, I am 1/2 part got-my-crap-together and 1/2 part total-hot-mess. And I choose to love me ANYWAY. Because life is just so much more fun that way.