Tag: choices

Moving Forward

I have had friends that have struggled with addiction and/alcoholism through the years. And since I know it’s a disease, I stand by them. What do you need? You got this! I’m here for you! It always seemed so completely heartless when someone they loved abandoned them. How could they not be there for them in their time of need? Don’t they see they are trying to be well? Then, I was that loved one.

I once dated someone who was a recovering alcoholic. I met him after his rock bottom. I met him into his walk of sobriety. He told me about when he came back after getting sober. His wife had a function planned, and they were serving wine. He served wine. I was shocked at the insensitivity she had. Why wouldn’t she cancel the function? Why would she let there be alcohol there when she KNEW he was trying to be sober?

Why? Because she had years but having to cancel things or put her life on hold. Because he’s lied about his drinking before and this was just one more time he was going to disrupt her world. Because the rest of the world didn’t see what she had to live with, day after day, so this wasn’t anything new. She was tired. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care. He had siphoned all of the worry and care out of her for years and years. She just wanted to live life. She didn’t trust or believe him. She was done.

Did he need support? Absolutely. And he found in friends and family. And I’m sure she’s glad he did. He’s doing well. She’s doing well.

When alcoholism hit my family, I started going to a support group. The first thing they told me was to detach with love. Let go of control. I read the following, “today, if I am tempted to interfere what’s something that is none of my business, I can turn my attention instead to some way in which I can take care of myself.”

I disagreed with them. I am not controlling. In fact, I am pretty out of control most of the time. Detach with love? But he needs me! Now seems like the WORST time to detach! They told me that he needed to be in control of his sobriety. Not me. I had to let go. I could support and love, but I needed to stop doing things for him.

The next day I started to get his stuff together and thought, no, he needs to. It’s just paper work. He can grab it himself. Then later I went to text him to ask if he made his appointment…no. He needs to. Then I googled local AA meetings…no. he needs to do it. Oh my gosh. Beth. STOP.

I looked at the bills I had organized, the budget I made for him. I looked at the cleaning supplies I got to bring to his house to clean with. I realized that I am his enabler. I just keep bailing him out. He needs to do it. But how? How do you look at someone you love and just step aside? When you know they won’t do it themselves, and you want to help?

“If they don’t want to be well, they won’t be. And there’s no amount of ‘doing it for them’ that will bring them there.” Ouch.

So I read up on codependency. I was the victim role. Always the victim of my alcoholic. And if I wanted any chance at all of us being healthy, I had to stop putting myself in positions that made me the victim. So, I tried to detach with love. I tried to be supportive and ask about his journey. And I waited or the deep talks and healing to begin. I was ready to work on me while he worked on himself.

What I wasn’t ready for was the backlash that came. If I asked about his sobriety, his house, his family, I was immediately met with anger and rage. Accusations of me being on drugs. Reminders of how I abandoned him. Screaming and cussing at me. And my response, to give it right back. That was our cycle: attack, defend, yell, repeat. It was way harder than I anticipated. I can be pretty mean. I know the low blows. And all the years of working on me, went out the door every time we had an arguement. I could feel the toxicity seeping out of me. I hate that side of me.

There was one day I went out to help with yard work. I immediately felt the impulse to “look for evidence”. Just like I had done years before. I didn’t trust he was sober. So I started looking around. Then I stopped. Is this what I want? To always feel like I need to check the hiding spots to “catch” him? No. I can’t. I don’t have the energy. He lies. A lot. He sneaks. A lot. As do most alcoholics. And I can’t “snoop” my way into trust. This is something he has to do. I am not a victim of him. He is a victim of his addiction.

So I stopped asking. I stopped responding with anything more than a “that’s too bad” or “I’m happy for you”. Slowly I started noticing being treated differently by him. And things dissolved.

It’s not about love. It’s not about not wanting someone well. It’s about awareness of your own part in toxicity and not participating. If you see someone working on sobriety or being clean, BE THERE FOR THEM. I can’t stress that enough. They need their family and friends. But just know, that person that “abandoned” them? They had to walk away. Because they were probably in a place where neither could heal with the other there. Every week I share with my therapist something I wanted to say and didn’t. Or something I shouldn’t have said, but did. I talk through why I wanted to say it, and why I didn’t. I feel like a toddler learning to walk. A bit wobbly. And when I fall, I stand back up.

We don’t talk about money. Be poor privately please.

Why are the poor poor? Not how did they become poor, but why are they still poor. Have you ever ask yourself that? If you are, or have been, you know why.

Based on the posts I see on social media, the reason is, because that person is either: lazy, entitled, or makes poor choices. Are there lazy and entitled people? Sure there are. But I guarantee 99% of poor people work 10 times as hard as a financially stable person. Their life depends on it. And there are a lot of people that make poor choices, I being one of them. But unless your poor choice is gambling away your family savings or working for the mob, most poor people’s bad choices are buying a pair of jeans or going out for drinks. Not quite what I would consider worthy of a lifetime struggle to provide for your family.

Why am I bringing this up? Because I’m a poor person trying very hard to obtain what others tell me I could get if I just worked harder. I’m trying reach that goal you told me I’m not entitled to, that I have to work for. What is that goal? To have a place to live of my own and to be able to feed my children and pay my bills without worry or anxiety.

I receive SNAP. Because I’m below the poverty line. Does that make you uncomfortable? If you don’t know me I’m sure it doesn’t. If you know me personally I’m sure you feel quite uncomfortable knowing that about me. I once had a family member harass me on a Facebook post. He was convinced that the reason I am struggling HAS TO BE because I deserve it. I’m an entitled millennial who wants everything handed to me. I deleted him off my Facebook and had myself a good cry. Where has he been the last 10 years? I am not a quiet person. I do not bottle things inside. I am very honest and open about the good and the bad in my life. Why is my struggle making him so angry? It’s my struggle. I’m not angry. I love sharing my struggle so that others can know and feel hopeful. He was legitimately angry. Zero compassion.

Then someone said something to me that put it in perspective. “Of course he is angry. And of course he is blaming you. Because if he admits you’ve done everything you were supposed to and you are a good person, and are still suffering, then he would have to also admit that he stood by as you suffered for years and never offered you a hand of help.”

Holy crap. I used to always wonder why we didn’t talk about money. From a young age it was instilled in me that you never ask how much someone makes. And you don’t talk about how much you make. I remember asking, why we can’t talk about it. I was told it was because people that don’t make as much might get jealous and angry. It was to protect those who deserve their income from people who didn’t deserve it and wanted it.

Poor people don’t care if you know how much they make. I’ve had perfect strangers mention how much their check was in casual conversation. Poor people are not uncomfortable with talking about money. Whatevs. I’m broke but I needed some Chipotle. See, every single thing we do revolves around money. Like, if I buy the good toilet paper, will I have the gas to get my kids to school? Which bill can I be late on so I can replace my kids ripped school pants? We’re not handling our money with our sights set on vacation spots or the best investments. We’re trying to find a way to make sure we don’t have to eat peanut butter and jelly or cereal for dinner for the next week.

You know what would save me a lot of money? Being able to buy a house. My entire life has been at a standstill for the last year because the house I live in is unlivable. If I move my rent will be double to triple what it is now. It is not possible.

Poor people can’t buy houses. Not because they can’t afford them. Because the system is set up in a way to keep them poor.

I do not have a great credit score. To even have a chance at obtaining a mortgage I need 10% down. So let’s say I work for that goal. The houses in my area that I would be ideal for my family are about $150,000. But I don’t need ideal. I’m sure if I looked around and waited I could find something that makes do for about $100,000. So I need $10,000 to buy a house. With my current income I know I could save $100 a month. So that means in 8 years I could buy a house. If I lived extra poor I could probably save $200 a month. Then I could buy a house in 4 years. Do you see the problem? That means I still have to live in this shithole house with my four children until they are raised.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I can save $500 a month. That’s only a year and a half. Buuuuuut. I receive Food Stamps. About $500 a month. And the second my assets exceed $2,250, I do not qualify anymore. So 5 months in, I wouldn’t be able to afford to save anymore. (2 years into my 8, 1 year onto my 4).

Why are the poor poor? Because unless someone steps in and knocks down the societal hurdles, we don’t have a choice. Why do poor people buy lottery tickets? Because there’s a better chance of winning the money to help pull them out of poverty than there is to do it by hard work. Why do the poor buy cups of coffee and get tattoos instead of saving? Because what’s the point? Do you have any idea how helpless that feeling is? Then you feel guilty and ashamed when judgmental eyes look at your $50 tattoo and tell you that THAT is the reason you and your children deserve to suffer. You feel like you need to justify the $10 Goodwill Coach purse you carry because others see it and believe you’re exaggerating your circumstance. You’re either lying, or deserve it.

The rich want to believe that the poor are poor because they deserve it. Because if they acknowledged what it really is, they also have to admit that they’re okay with thriving while others are unfairly suffering. And that makes them uncomfortable. So it’s easier to just blame.

I am poor. My kids play sports, go to a private school, have new clothes and shoes at the beginning of the school year, and none of it was provided by me. Because I have people in my life that saw the value of my children and said, “I want to help”. My eyes swell up with tears when I think about what I would do if I didn’t have kind people in my life. Because I know you’re out there. All you that are suffering without a support system. I want to help you so bad. I want somebody to help you. I feel your pain, I feel your anxiety. I am so sorry we live in a country where you are demonized and told you deserve to suffer. You do not deserve to suffer. Your kids do not deserve to suffer. You deserve so mich better than this.

Why are the poor poor? If you are not poor, you need to be okay with being uncomfortable and do something. You need to stop blaming and start asking how you can help. Perpetual poverty happens when you can’t afford the necessities. Do you feel the Necessities in life a privilege or a right? Do you believe that someone’s financial circumstance equates their worth? Your complacency is hurting people.

Hi. I am Beth. And I’m a toxic person.

One of my favorite things that social media and technology has brought to my generation is its ability to help us cope, understand, and process dysfunction and toxicity that is in our lives. I see it all the time. People in my age group properly able to identify unhealthy behavior in themselves and in others. That doesn’t mean they necessarily know how to deal with it, but they can identify it. Which is a huge step.

A few weeks back I had a friend say to me, “I feel like I’m gaslighting them! I didn’t even realize I was doing it. They deserve better than that.” My friend was 100% serious and concerned about it. The self awareness this person has in their 30s is astounding to me. They are toxic. They know they are. And they are able to zero in on exactly what they are doing that is dysfunctional, and even tell me why they think they are like this. 

I am a toxic person. I have the potential to suck out all the life of a person. I can manipulate. I can read people and very quickly know what they are insecure about. I can sense vulnerability and dysfunction like a freaking superpower. I can also tell when a person is emotionally healthy. I can feel boundaries that are set (or not set) almost immediately after meeting someone. My comfort zone is filled with toxic interactions and unhealthy behaviors. 

I sound like a gem, eh? Well, I think I am. Not because that stuff doesn’t matter. Because I fight that stuff EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Ask anyone who knew me in my 20s. Talk to my exes. I was not a bad person. But I was broken. The adult I was trying to be was not one on a healthy path. It was one who used white lies, cheated, and manipulated to get my way. I didn’t want to be like that. I did not like seeing the ones I loved hurt by me. 

I started seeing a therapist. I started making a conscious effort. I had to learn how to purge the toxicity from my interactions. It sucked. It was hard. No…not was. It is hard. I find when I’m with other people working on themselves, or people that are emotionally stable, it is easy. I can relax and just be. But the moment someone with dysfunction enters my life, I want to retreat to my ever so toxic comfort zone. I can feel it. I can hear it in what I say. I leave feeling angry at myself. Ashamed. 

I like to cut people in their 20s some slack. That decade is such a shit hole anyways. Add in having to process through childhood/adolescence and you’re left with some pretty lost adults who are trying to sort through 2 decades of preparation for adulthood. It’s exhausting and can be overwhelming. But once you’re in your 30s, get your shit together. You have had over a decade of making your own choices. At this point, your life is what you have made it. Acknowledge what you’ve been through and grow. 

I am a toxic person. I have to know this always. I have to understand and be compassionate to those who distance themselves from me. I have to work 10x as hard to make sure I keep my toxicity from my children. I need to make sure my children find dysfunction uncomfortable and wrong. I have to make sure I guard myself from others who take me by the hand and try to lead me down to that place I’ve escaped from. I need to acknowledge what brought me to this point, but not dwell on it, blame does not add to my growth. I need to know that when I do slip up, I tell whoever I hurt I was wrong and they deserve better. 

If you are a toxic person, you are not a bad person. Every day, every interaction, you have a choice to do better, to be better. Find a therapist. (I know I know, therapist shopping is the WORST. But don’t settle for one that isn’t helping you.) Start working on rewiring yourself. Your life will be happier. Your relationships will be better. You will thrive. 

Bringing it down to the Basics

It was 2011. I was newly divorced, in school full time, working as many hours as I could get, and raising 3 kids. Looking back, it’s almost comical that I thought I could have an organized house as well. 

“What do you need?” My friend Kris asked me. She had come over with the intention to clean/organize/help. I was drowning in my life and I desperately needed someone to throw me a lifesaver. 

“I don’t know. I mean. I guess the toys. I can’t think because there is so much everywhere. The toys go there. Top drawer is dolls. Second is dress up. Bottom draws is everything else. I don’t know. They’re all mixed up.” I told her showing her my organizer. “And art stuff goes here. Paper in this drawer, crayons and markers in this one, and the other stuff in that one.”

“No. That’s too much. You need to simplify it. How about toys here, and art stuff here.”

“But. Everything has a place. I just…”

“What a your goal? What do you want in here?”

“I want the toys off the floor. I want to walk through my house without stepping on stuff.”

“Beth. The girls can help. They need to. You can’t do it all, so we need to find a way that is simple. So the kids can do it.”

I had to let go of some control. Here’s the thing, (for those who don’t know how it is to function with ADHD) I have to be that uptight about things. Chaos around me gives anxiety. I forget things. I lose things. Everything has a place, because otherwise, nothing has a place. 

So I changed the rules. Instead if having such strong stipulations on where the kids put the toys, I just made sure they were put away. It worked. The kids didn’t feel overwhelmed with helping. So I started simplifying other aspects of my life. 

Sorting socks? Nope. I don’t have time. My goal is to have clean socks when we need them. Boom. New rule, sock basket. All the clean socks in the house are in there. Find your own. While thes things were not ideal for my house, I found the amount of stress that was lifted was definitely worth letting go. 

Sometimes, when I feel overwhelmed, I like to bring it down the the basics. Not forever, just for long enough to gain some perspective. Not just with household chores, but with friendships, parenting, work, and everything else. 

Parenting. What is the goal? I’m sure your response would be something about love, or God, or kindness, or being strong or something like that. No. Those are not the goals. Those are the personal details you have set for what are actually the goals. 

There are 2 things your kid needs from you. Two. Taking it to The basics. These 2 things are the backbone of why you make any and all decisions regarding your kids. And if they’re not, you need to reevaluate your motives in parenting.

The first, let them keep their innocence as long as possible. We protect them from the horrors of the world so that they can develop into who they are truly meant to be. Life has a way of hardening us. Our children need to keep the tenderness, and awe for life and the world as long as possible.

The second, produce functional adults. Our children need to be able live and function in society someday. We cannot shelter them forever. They need to be able to socialize. They need to be able to work a job. They need to be able to keep themselves safe when you’re not there. They need to be able to think and make choices. 
These goals sound contradictory. You can see why teenage years are so tough. Constantly trying to balance protecting our teen while at the same time knowing in a few short years they need to be able to function in the world. 

Now, what is your definition of innocence? What do you consider a functioning adult? This is where our parenting styles come into play. We make choices every day with these in mind. “No, sorry, Sally isn’t allowed to sleep over until she’s older.” Or “Rinse your bowl.” Or “Sure, Jimmy can definitely go out with his friends after the game.” Based on our childhoods, usually, we decide what we will or will not do with our kids. 

If you are an overwhelmed parent, bring it to the basics. Ask yourself, is this helping them keep their innocence or helping them develop into a functioning adult? If it doesn’t fit one of those 2 things, quit fretting about it. Quit being angry about it. Quit wearing yourself down over it. 

Someday I will sort socks again. And you know what? The toys in my house are now sorted. The art stuff all has a place. It took 7 years, but I got it back slowly. Just because it’s not ideal, doesn’t mean it’s bad. My house is a disaster. Why? Because I want the kids to help clean. And honestly, they don’t do a great job. My kids need a mom who helps show them. Not a mom who yells and shames them. 

You know what your kids need. You know what type of adult you hope they become (or possibly one you don’t want them to become). Have a little faith in yourself. Take a deep breathe, and let go. 

 One of my worst nights.

I want to tell a story.

A few years back, on Halloween, I went to a costume party with my sister, I dressed up as a Marvel character. We met my mom and step dad there. It was a BLAST. I drove and the plan was that my mom, who wasn’t drinking, or my sister were going to drive me. The plans were vague, but we knew we would figure out a safe way home. No biggie.

One of the best Halloween Parties I’ve ever been too. And I am glad for that. It was the last time we all went out with Dad before he died. It was adorable to watch him watch Mom. Just love and awe as he watched her dance with her girlfriends. Of course my sister and I took turns buying him shots of Crown, and tried to get him out there dancing with her.

Just all around a great night.

Then I ran into someone who recognized me from a play I was in. We started talking and laughing. I was DRUNK. Everyone was my friend and great. Everything was great. But I was getting tired. I better find my family.

They were gone. I grabbed my dying phone and tried to call. Straight to voicemail. Panic starts to set in a bit as I look around for anyone I know.

A guy approaches and starts to talk to me. I smile and try to keep my level of drunkness at bay. Then a couple of his friends walk up. They all start talking to me. The first guy asks if I want to go to a party with them. I feel my stomach drop. The bar lights are on. There is only a few ppl left and I don’t know any of them. I don’t know what to do.

You know that “gut feeling” we are always told to listen to? Mine was saying run. Get. Out. Now. I was absolutely terrified that these 5-6 were guys going to rape me. I told him I couldn’t, but thanks for the invite! He was not taking no for an answer. He wouldn’t leave me alone and kept getting closer. All of them were around me. Finally I said, I would go. I faked a laugh and asked where it was at. “Oh, we’ll drive you. Don’t worry about it.” I HAD to get away. I agreed and leaned against the wall. The main guy told me he needed to go to the bathroom and then we would leave. He turned and I ran.

I ran to my car quicker than I’ve ever ran. I started it and left the bar. I started to cry. Why the fuck am I driving. I am going to go to jail. I would be so mad at any friend driving drunk. Maybe I over reacted? I shouldn’t be driving. If I get pulled over they won’t care that I was stuck. What if they raped Me? I shouldn’t have dressed as Domino. I need to park my car. But they saw this car. Where can I go? I need to go somewhere public. A gas station.

I pulled into a gas station. Turned off my car, threw my keys on the seat, locked the doors, texted my (then) fiance where I was and closed my eyes, still shaking. I slept there for about an hour. 

Officer: Knock-knock-knock “Ma’am? Are you alright?”
Me: Yes I am fine. Thank you.
Officer: I need you to come inside.

I spent the next hour and half with this man drilling me. I was cooperative. I told him I was drunk. I had friends that cared about me. My fiance would be stopping here in the morning to give me a ride home, so this was a safe place for me to sleep. I thanked him for his concern. And agreed to wait inside for my fiance. At this point my phone had died and I told him I just had to wait I couldn’t call him.

He had me call him from his phone. I called my fiance and explained that I’m not safe to drive, I was sleeping, they were concerned about me sleeping in my car, and he had to come get me. This seemed to appease the officer. So I thanked him again, he left, and it went into the bathroom to wash the Halloween makeup off my face.

When I came out he was there again. He wanted me to take a breathalyzer test. At this point I am feeling harassed. And I told him so. I did not deny my alcohol consumption. I came in and I called. I did everything he asked. I was not belligerent or uncooperative. So I asked him why he wanted a breathalyzer after all of that.

He could have asked at any point. Why did he leave and come back to ask me for one? He said he just wanted one and I had to do it. I told him no. I did not have to do it and, because I was intoxicated, I did not feel comfortable having any more interactions with him without my fiance or a lawyer present.

I was terrified. This was one of the scariest nights of my life. Everytime I think about that night and makes me sick to my stomach. It was such a great night. Then, it wasn’t. I think about all that could have happened. What if I decided to do the right thing and not drive? And those guys took me? What if I fell asleep on the road or hit someone? What if I did do the breathalyzer? What if the officer decided to arrest me?

I’ve only told a couple people about this night. I was so ashamed and embarrassed. Everytime I think about that night I am affirmed in my mind that I did the right thing. But I still feel so hurt and angry about it.

When I hear stories about women being assaulted and the defense being that the woman was dressed provocatively, I realize how close I was to being that woman. Would these men have gotten away with it because I was in a Domino costume? Because I was drunk? Why is my only option in the situation to break the law or potentially be raped?

I went out for a night of drinking and dancing with my family. One little misunderstanding about rides could have potentially changed my entire life. 

I don’t know why I wanted to share this. I guess I just feel like people should know that even if you plan and do everything right things can change very quickly.

And that it really sucks that as women, we have lingering fear of harm and guilt of pleasure with everything we do. That those men could have been excused due to intoxication and poor judgement while I would be blamed because of the same things. 

You’re Allowed to Make Mistakes Once You’re 30

I’m very pregnant right now. I have less than a week until my due date. So, pretty much everything I do and think about at this point is baby or birth related. So I decided I wanted to talk about a perception I had during this pregnancy.

My first daughter, like this current pregnancy, was unplanned. I touched on my choice to have her at 19 in http://wp.me/p4Wgjj-1S Well, little did I know that a few months after writing that blog, I would be facing that guillotine again. Only this time it was different. I was not 19, I was 30. And I wasn’t just starting my adulthood, I was well into it.

At 19, the thought of having a baby is scary. It’s life changing. But I knew I could do it. There was a certain amount of naivete that kept me positive and strong in my choice. At 30, that naivete was gone. I knew exactly what having a baby was going to be like. I knew how tired I would be. I knew everything I would have to give up. It was devastating.

I cried a lot. I can’t do this. I thought about abortion. If I just did it soon, it would be fine….no. I can’t do it. I knew I was just being a coward. I knew I would love the baby. I knew I would be a great mom for it. I knew a year from then I would not be able to live with myself and that choice. Adoption? I could find a family that needs a baby. I could just tell people I was a surrogate. Nope. I know myself too well. I know I am capable, and that I would regret it. So, begrudgingly, I accepted that I was going to have my 4th child.

Why was it so much harder this time? I am older, more stable, and already a mom. You would think a scared 19 year old would have more inner turmoil than a 30 year old. Then I started thinking about people. Their thoughts, their opinions, their advice. There it is. I didn’t want to go through that again. The judgement. The unsolicited advice. Being treated as if you’re walking around with a scarlet letter. I was too exhausted in life to have to deal with that again. Nineteen year old Beth had no problem telling people to fuck off, and just keep living. Thirty year old Beth was not nearly as willing to burn bridges, and cared a lot more for formed relationships.

People can be assholes. I’m guessing that my loud personality and blunt attitude makes people feel it’s ok to say things that they normally wouldn’t say to someone. Maybe they think I won’t care, that I have a thick skin. Whatever the reason, I have MANY times in life had people say hurtful, mean, and insulting things to me without feeling they were out of line.

So, I braced myself for the backlash. Mentally rehearsing what I would say when unkind and even rude words were spoken. Then I waited. Nothing. I waited some more. Still nothing. Every person I told I was pregnant to met me with excitement and encouragement. I was not prepared for that.

I started thinking about 19 year old Beth again. Why were people so harsh? I had people tell me I was selfish and wrong for having a baby. I was told I was ill equipped to be a mother and that it was a sin for me not to give the baby up. I had people go out of their way to make sure I KNEW they refused to go to my baby shower because they didn’t agree with my choice. Then, after she was born, I had nasty looks. People questioned EVERYTHING I did. I had a nurse grab my daughter out of my arms while rolling her eyes at me and making comment about, “young moms”.

This bothers me more now than it did 12 years ago. While going through it, I just pushed through, raised my child, and didn’t give these people a second thought. I didn’t realize how much that really stuck with me. I didn’t know, years later, I would be in the same circumstance and the thought of that hardship would make me consider giving my baby up.

Why do we do this to young adults? We punish them for choosing differently. Not just with babies. With all life choices. We sit there passing judgment and withholding empathy and kindness for what? To teach them a lesson? Here’s the thing folks, I already decided at 19 to have the baby. I was trying so hard to take responsibility for a choice and do what I felt was best. The best lesson you can teach a young adult in that situation is kindness. I didn’t expect anyone to take on the responsibility for me. Just kindness. Instead, I was taught that people are assholes and will make your life harder when you don’t do things their way. Then, years later, that lesson came back to me like a wave of panic.

We have to stop doing this. You don’t like the current generation? Get over it. You don’t agree with how they’re learning adulthood? That’s too bad for you. There is a difference between being kind and enabling someone. You don’t want to enable them? Ok. Then tell me, if that 20 year old was 30, would you still respond the same way? If you’re purposely being harsher to a young adult because “they need to learn”, then you are an asshole. The lesson you are teaching them is that they are not allowed to make mistakes while learning to be a grown up. Which we all know is bullshit. That is the ONLY way we learn. Through experiencing life and finding solutions to problems we put ourselves in.

Our young adults should feel like they can come to us for advice, not judgement. They will learn and excel into the adult world so much quicker with support and trust than with harshness and abandonment. You want to complain about millennials, but offer no way for them recover and learn from their mistakes. So next time there is a 19 or 20 year old who fucked up in life, remember, you don’t have to tell them. They know. Just tell them they’ll be ok, offer positive insight, and realize that your response is helping form what kind of adult they’re going to be.

I give you permission to feel guilty

Years ago, I was a part of an online pregnancy board. It was an open group with women due in February 2007, and we shared everything from baby bump pictures, to husband rants, to emotional break downs. I loved it. It was a way to have other woman say, “You’re not alone. You’re not crazy. Me too.”

One day there was a post that came up about our newly born babies. It wasn’t anything huge or life changing. It was about giving a newborn water. This mom was irritated that her doctor said the baby didn’t need the water. That all the hydration the baby needed was in the bottles, and giving them water was robbing them of nutrients. This mom was very upset. She felt that the doctor was implying that she was a bad mom, and said that her mom gave her water as an infant and she turned out fine. So he needed to back off his opinions. 

I sat there, and read the comments. A lot of moms did the, “You’re the mom, you know what’s best!” And “I have given all my babies water and they have no problems.” And “You go mama! You stand up for your baby!” Then there was me. I said something along the lines of, “Why do you think they need water? If they’re not benefiting from it, why is it so important that they have it?” Release the dogs. Unknowingly, I stepped over a line. Mom’s rushed to her defense. Said I was just trying to pick a fight. That we aren’t about judgment, and she’s allowed to choose whatever she feels is best for her baby.

This was one of my first experiences with Internet parental affirmation. I just didn’t get it. Yeah, your baby will most likely be fine. But is it the best for them? Don’t you want them to have everything you had an MORE? Why is this woman so adamant with staying with something that she was told isn’t the best? So your mom did it and you turned out fine….so? If you learn better, shouldn’t you be wanting to do better?

Now fast forward 9 years. This affirmation of our choices has become a daily thing. I do it too. You see a meme that perfectly describes what you’re feeling, and with the click of a button you share it with hundreds of your friends. You want to be lazy? There are people to tell you you deserve it, take a break! You are unhealthy and need physical activity? No you don’t! There are funny memes about eating whole pizzas and bacon. You want to go out and party all your money away? You came to the right place! Live it up while you’re young!

Let me restate. I do it too. This is not meant to belittle anyone in particular. When I feel guilty about wasting an entire day playing phone games, I just write a mildly funny status about it, wait for the “likes” to roll in, and let the guilt wash away. But here is the problem with that. Sometimes, I should feel guilty about it. It is my job as a mother to make sure the dishes are done and the laundry is clean. Why have I turned into someone who is seeking to be affirmed in my mediocrity? Shouldn’t I want better than just getting by? Where did that Bethy who believed “if you learn better, do better” go?

We don’t like finding out the way we do things needs to change. We get defensive as if it is an attack on who we are as a person when we find out we need to improve on something. Our mindset has changed from, “How can I be better for myself and my kids?” To, “See, I’m not the only one like this.” There is a problem with this. If you’re more interested in finding affirmation, so you can maintain being stagnant in life, than you are in growing and learning, you will spend your life feeling like you’re constantly on the defense. We know deep down if we’re just trying to justify our laziness. I have had completely guilt free lazy days. And then I’ve had days where I really needed to do things, and chose not to. We know the difference. We just keep trying to make the guilt go away by getting peer support.

Think. That’s what it really comes down to. If your first reaction is feeling attacked when the doctor says “No bottles of water”, ask yourself why. Are you just embarrassed you were doing it wrong and we’re corrected? Or is it that you don’t like the thought of changing what you were doing? Or is it really the best? We read these lists, “6 reasons to dump your man” or “Top 10 reasons to focus on yourself”, etc. We feel affirmed in whatever action we are doing, or in a choice we wanted an excuse to make. Now, I love these posts too, but you HAVE to ask yourself if this is something that’s going to help you improve yourself, or if you just want rid yourself of guilt. You know perfectly well if you’re cutting yourself short.

With all that said, I will most likely still post about being in my PJs all day, and wait for all the other moms to like my status, just so I don’t feel bad about not showering for 2 days. And hopefully, after reading this blog post, I don’t get any, “Is being lazy and gross really the best way to spend you day, Bethy?” But if I do, I will laugh a bit to myself. Because I’m a pretty self aware person, and I guarantee the only reason I posted it was because I knew deep down it wasn’t the best way to spend my day. 

Choosing to Look at the Guillotine

I have been reading my girls Les Misérables every night before bed. My middle daughter says it’s boring. My oldest says it’s long and confusing. My youngest couldn’t care less.  I read it anyways. I struggle with all the French words, and stop every paragraph or so and explain what it means. I think it’s good for all of us.

We are still reading about the bishop right now. A few days ago, we read about a man sentenced to death for creating counterfeit money. They explain about the shock of seeing the guillotine. “The guillotine is the law made concrete; it is called the Avenger. It is not neutral and does not permit you to remain neutral. Whoever sees it quakes, mysteriously shaken to the core.” This has sat with me. Many things in life, we have no opinion of, or think we do, but don’t know until the moment we see it in front of us. Then, we cannot remain neutral. You know, the moment it is front of you, where you stand and what you believe.

Abortion. (Oh shit Beth. Don’t make this THIS kind of post. I know, I know.) I have heard the debate on both sides. I know people who have had abortions, and I know others who chose not to (myself included). I would like to share my experience, my views, and my thoughts on it.

I knew I could never have an abortion. I made that decision long before I was faced with an unexpected pregnancy. When I saw those 2 lines on that stick, I chucked it in the trash and collapsed to the ground. I sobbed as my roommate tried to comfort me. How could I have been so stupid? What do I say to the dad? I bet he won’t want to be involved.  How do I tell my family? My parents are going to be so pissed. Do I stay in the Air Force? I mean, I would have healthcare, but I would have to put it in daycare at 6 weeks…and what if I deployed? What will it be like to be a mom? I am good with kids…I wonder if it’s a boy or girl.

My mind raced. So, I walked into the doctors, took the blood test, and waited. Still with tears running down my, now very swollen, face. The doctor walked in with a smile. “Congratulations Mama! It was positive!  You’re going to have a baby!” His overly enthusiastic response caught me off guard. I didn’t know how to respond to that. Why was he so freaking happy about it? I’m NINETEEN. I should be looking forward to keggers, not diapers. Then it hit me. I am growing a baby. Holy shit. I have a little me just floating around in there. I took the paper with the results on it and just stared at it.

Well, anyone that has ever been to Tech school in the AF knows, it took about 3 min before everyone found out. Then, I was faced with something I wasn’t prepared for. The unsolicited advice. “That sucks so much! Did you find a clinic to take care of it?” Or “Well, you better get in soon, the bigger it is, the more expensive.” And a lot of, “Do you need me to drive you?” It was expected that I was going to have an abortion. And when I said I wasn’t, I was told I was making a huge mistake. That I would regret it. It was going to ruin my life. I would never find a guy that wanted to take on a woman with a kid. I was throwing away my youth.

Pause. This was my choice. I chose to have the baby. I considered adoption, but chose to keep her. My choice. Do any of you know how hard it was to stand firm in my choice? I had a few select people that supported me. The rest, felt I was making the wrong choice and we’re unsupportive. I kept thinking, if this is my choice, then why aren’t people supportive either way? Then I realized, that at 19, it wasn’t really a choice for most people. They had never sat and made this decision in advance. It was that thing that “would never happen” to them, so when it did, they were so scared and lost that they just did what was expected. And how can you blame them? I was there. I was faced with it. It is fucking scary as hell. I knew I was alone with this. Our society isn’t set up for my choice, only the other choice. If I had to make that decision without any thought about it before hand, I most likely would have had an abortion. Then I got mad. Why the hell aren’t we set up for both choices? Why is it, that having this child means my “life is over”? Why am I treated as if I should be punished for having this child? I’m not saying I thought someone should do all the hard work of parenting for me, but why are things set up to make it impossible? If I were in college, what would I have done? They don’t  allow babies in the dorms. I doubt there is childcare on campus. Shouldn’t we want to educate and help these mothers? Not make things impossible for them?

Abortion will never be illegal. I want to point something out that I didn’t realize until well into my adulthood. An abortion is aborting the pregnancy, not the fetus. You end the pregnancy, which results in the fetus dying if too young to live outside the womb. It needs to stay legal for the fact that some pregnancies become toxic to the mother and child, and without an early delivery, both would die. So we’re not even going to get into that debate if it should be legal or not. I am 100% opposed to partial birth abortion. That is killing. And I do believe doctors should be obligated to try to help a fetus that is born preterm due to an abortion. Aborting pregnancies should be used in cases of fatal risk to the mothers, and the fetus should be treated medically if possible.

So, Prolifers. Here are words for you, from someone who chose life. Being Prolife is more than just making sure someone pops out a kid. Prolife is supporting that life after it is born. Prolife is saying, I am happy you chose to have this baby, and I know it will be hard, but I want to help you. I want to help you find childcare so you can get a degree and support your child. I want to help you find a family to adopt, because you are not in a place to raise a child. I want to give myself, where I can, so you know you are supported. I want to come help you clean, or watch your baby for an hour so you can take a nap. Would you like someone to go with you to the doctors? What do you need?

Prochoicers. You need to educate yourself. If you have sex, you could be faced with this. You need to research embryonic and fetal development. You need to understand what procedures they use. You need to talk to those who have had, and have chose not to have abortions. You need to know the long term risks of cancer, infertility, and infections. I hear so much, it is just a medical procedure. Ok, then know it. You need to research the long term emotional effects. Then, after you have all the medical info, and you understand what will happen, long and short term, you need to imagine yourself looking at 2 lines on a stick. What would you do? Make that choice. You need to make an educated decision now. Not when your hormones and emotions are flying. Not when your girlfriend comes to you in tears, feeling lost and scared. You need to be able to know, that if that time ever came, you don’t have to feel panic or pressure with your choice.

I am Prolife. I am Prowoman. I am not naive. It is legal, and it is a huge money maker. I feel that instead of focusing on making it illegal, we should be instead focusing on educating woman. I have had MANY friends that felt it wasn’t a choice, and they were trapped. They were ignorant to all of it. They had never thought about it before, and their regret was not knowing what to do before hand. They felt conned and lied to about it. We need to be letting these woman actually have a choice. Face the guillotine face on, and refuse to be neutral. We need to know what we would say if a friend came to us and asked us what to do. We need to stop with the hate and judgment, and work on letting to woman in crisis know, she does have a choice. She doesn’t have to feel like her life is over. That this is just a different path, or a speed bump in life that she has to slow down for. And we need our men to know what woman would have to face. We need them to be able to sit with the woman and be able to have an opinion when asked. To not put the burden on the woman to make this decision alone. We need to just take a small amount of time out of our lives, and just know, so we can carry on with life with at least one of the many “guillotines” that we will face, has been seen, and we are no longer neutral.