My Thoughts on Women

I woke up this morning with a question on my heart:  Has there ever been a better time to be a woman?  The answer is an emphatic NO.  One only has to watch season one of Mad Men to realize how much has changed for those of us living today, how much freedom we have to think and act and be who we want to be.  Thanks to the tireless work of the suffragists, the educators, the trailblazers, the leaders, the law changers, I get to live in a time of unprecedented opportunity.  I can choose what job I want to have (homemaker!), what color to dye my hair (I'm thinking purple next...), what books to read (The Trumpet of Conscience, go read it NOW), who to vote for (that one's trickier since politicians suck as a rule).  Don't even get me started on the advancements in menstrual care...from red tents and rags to those bizarre belts and toxic shock syndrome, and today researchers are hard at work finding ways for us to avoid that monthly debasement altogether.

Girl Power! (I'm in the yellow shirt) 2006

I shared last week how I feel about men, both the general men of the world and the men closest to me.  It is because of these men who love me, my husband and father and sons, that I find my femininity.  It is in response and in relation to them that I see who I was created to be, see all my strengths and weaknesses clearly.  We have both, sisters, because we are whole people and we are flawed people.  The weaknesses of our gender aren't too hard to discover.  We wound with our mouths.  We gossip and whisper, we exaggerate and lie, we criticize and we judge.  And for all of the pain we inflict, we are mortally wounded when the tongues of others lash our skin.  Chris Rock says, "Women would rule the world...if they'd stop hating each other."  We allow envy to course through our veins and we forget to cheer each other on.  We forget to embrace the positive side of womanhood.

BFFs 1998

Because we live in a world that says we have to be like men to be worthwhile, we have forgotten why it's so great to be a woman.  We carry and birth new life.  We are created to safeguard the next generation with our bodies, and are capable of so much love, tenderness, and nurture.  If the children are the future like the song says, then ladies, it all begins with us, with our wombs and our breasts and our arms.  Let us never forget to wonder and celebrate at what we bear within us.  And closely related to our child-bearing is our child-birthing and ridiculously high tolerance for pain.  I firmly believe that if men had to experience the process, the human race would die off.  But we don't just stop there, with the necessary aches and groans of labor, we inflict more pain on ourselves in the name of beauty.  Waxing and tweezing and high heels and underwire (not to mention the torture of Jillian Michaels) and we don't even bat our eyes.  That's nothing.  We can endure and we can triumph through it all.  And our greatest strength is really the flip side of our greatest weakness.  All the infighting and verbal assaults we wage against each other can very easily be steered towards good.  Because our most feminine quality is our ability to go deep.  We learn about each other.  We open up about our hurts.  When we let our hearts swell with love, we realize how much we actually care about each other.  We realize that your victory is my victory and your pain is my pain.  We learn how to join arms and hold each other up.

It takes a Village 2013

I went to high school.  We all went to high school.  So we all know how scary other women are.  I chose to inflict pain right back at those who hurt me.  That seemed like the only way to survive.  But it's not.  I've been learning the past few years about another way to go, about real, healthy female friendships.  What it is to accept someone for who she is, to notice her abilities and her beauty and not feel threatened by it.  I've learned how to be vulnerable because I know I'm with safe people.  I know what it's like to be freaking out and scared and realize that my girlfriends (or sisters or roommates or classmates or whatever) are the last people I want to call.  Which is a real shame, because I have a few ladies on speed dial that are better at talking me down than even my husband (that's really saying something, since this is the guy I chose as The One to talk me down for the rest of our lives).  And WOW!  When I can reach out and there's actually another woman there who doesn't make fun of me or criticize me or judge me?  It's an incredible feeling ladies.  It's what I want for us all.  But we have to make it happen.  We have to be the change we want to see.  (Ghandi!!!)

Sisters (at Madame Toussaud's) 2013

For all that we have left to accomplish, the changes of the past several decades give me hope.  We aren't "there" yet, but we can get there because of the advancements women have already made.  We have platforms and microphones and education and spending power ladies!  We have voices and passions and we were made to be part of the solution!

*All the women pictured are dearly, deeply loved by me (even Oprah), and I will always feel tremendous gratitude to each of you for being a friend, a sister, a mentor to me.  You ladies rock!*

On Community (not the TV show)

It was supposed to be an uneventful morning.  It was supposed to be relaxing.  But who am I kidding, when is my life ever uneventful?  I got the big boys ready and off to school and then it was time to take the littlest one to the library for story time.  We are enjoying these quiet times together and exploring what he likes independent of his brothers and their dominating interests.  But we didn't just play with the trains and sing songs with Miss Renee.  This morning we met Katie and Scotty.  We were minding our business when Scotty came over to play with Mikey.  He had been reading books with his mom, but decided to get on the floor instead.  Mikey didn't want to share, which made Scotty cry and run back to his mom.  I thought to myself, there is something going on there, and moments later she confirmed.  Scotty was recently diagnosed with a Sensory Processing Disorder and his mom suspects further testing will reveal an Asperger's diagnosis.  He just started therapy and there is so much to work on, she said.  I nodded sympathetically.  I KNOW.  And then I said, "My oldest son is on the autism spectrum."  Words I used to avoid.  Words that brought me to tears every time I said them out loud.  But look at me now!  Casually telling this stranger about my special child.   Because we are part of the same community.

She wanted to talk more.  She told me about her family, how they are not supportive, how they undermine her when her son goes there for the weekend.  So I told her, "You are the mom.  You know your child, you know what he needs.  So do it.  It is hard, and sometimes it takes a really long time to see any progress from it.  But you'll do it."  She nodded and said, "I really needed to hear that."  Katie, I KNOW.  I needed to hear it too.  Sometimes I still need to hear it.  There are a ton of different ways to parent, to be a good mom, and you need to trust yourself that the way you have chosen is correct.  You need to be reminded that your son isn't bad, he's just special.  And that means the way you parent him will have to be special.  You will do it because it's your job.  You will do it because, although this isn't the child you thought you would raise, it's the child that you have, and he's amazing.  It gets easier to see the amazing and stop focusing on the problems as you go.

Can I just say how much more desirable it is to be the one saying "It gets better" than to be the one hearing it? This keeps happening to me, these opportunities to meet newly diagnosed kids and their caregivers, and every time it takes me back (almost five years now) to those days of fear.  I treated my son's diagnosis like all hard things in my life to that point:  I hid.  I buried the truth inside and pulled away. Fear and shame have isolated me for so much of my life, and this was no different.  I was afraid of what people would say, how they would treat us if they knew.  But my silence and my secrets have hurt me deeply.  And so finally I took a chance and reached out.  It was around this time that I met Mandy, who is not part of the special needs community, but took me under her wing and brought me to a literal Village who accepted my whole family in a way I'd never experienced before.  And because of these people teaching me about community, about give and take, about showing up with your mess and letting them wash it clean, about forging a family independent of blood or marriage, I can tell Katie what she needs to hear.  I can be the lifeline that I once needed.  I can offer camaraderie and turn a library into sacred space.

Glennon Melton of Momastery.com says that we belong to each other.  This is true of moms, of special needs families, of PEOPLE.  We need each other.  We need all of our experiences, we need all of the answers we have found, we need encouragement and support and a thousand times over we need to LOVE.  If you are in hiding, COME OUT.  We need your story, we need your passion.  And we just might hold the keys that will set you free.

What kind of Vert are you?

I had the immense privilege this past weekend to go out of town with a group of ladies who amaze and fascinate me, and perhaps the most amazing part is to realize that I am one of them, that there is a place for me in their group (there's a place here for you, come with us next time!).  As our time together was winding down, I was like an electric charge of energy, despite the very short night of sleep and the assured chaos waiting for me at home.  I thought, I must blog about this experience.  I need to write out what this weekend was for me in order to process how much I loved it (and also to answer my husband's barrage of questions without having to actually talk).  But once I sat before the computer, my brain refused to cooperate.  There was too much, I was exhausted, and it just wasn't going to happen that night.  So I hoped inspiration would come to me this week as I ease back into my every day routine.  And this is the first part that I can properly relay here.

After a day of conversations (how easy it is to talk to each of you...I loved how our words weaved in and out, how we could have one large conversation or 3 smaller ones, how it was more than just noise, but love and encouragement and laughter bringing us together), we ended the day at The Melting Pot for chocolate fondue, coffee, and even more talking.  Then came the question:  Are you an introvert or an extrovert?  Each woman spoke, gave her reasons and examples.  I considered not speaking up, because I was right in Mandy's eyeline, and I just knew that she would disagree with my answer.  Sure enough, when I said, "I'm an introvert," she responded, "What makes you think that?"  Well, dear Mandy, only my lifetime of experience being me.  HA!  But then I thought about it.  Is it possible to change from one to the other?  After spending decades as an introvert, could I have turned into an extrovert?

I am an introvert.  As a child, I lived in my imagination.  My parents love to tell stories about how Rachel could sit in a corner with a dish towel and a stick and entertain herself for hours, making characters and telling stories.  I have always had a small group of close friends, one or two "best friends", and everyone else intimidated me.  I was quiet anywhere public, terrified to talk to new people, completely mute the day a sub showed up to teach my first grade class.  But in private, with my friends or family, the people who knew me best, I was a ham.  I cracked jokes and my voice became loud and I could "be myself".  When I was 12, I found Melissa, my very best friend, and realized something magical had happened.  Because no matter how many strangers or new people I found myself with, as long as Melissa was by my side, I had the courage to be myself, in all of its loud, sarcastic glory.  When we went to separate colleges, I floundered, completely isolated and not knowing how to make a friend without Melissa there.  That was the year I started dating a boy who became the man I married.  And the magic continued.  Because Chris became, not just a crush or a love interest, but a friend.  Over the years, he has become my partner, my other half, and slowly, I have been able to pull back the curtains on my inner self.  And because of this unveiling, I am, for the first time, completely myself, comfortable with who I am and able to be that all the time, not just in certain approved locations, with an exclusive list of people.  I can meet someone new and say "Here I am, this is me!" and be content for them to take it or leave it.  As a mom, I've been forced to push the limits of my own comfort, with children who need an advocate and a spokesperson, being quiet and avoiding new people is just not an option.  Does that mean that I'm an extrovert?  I'm not sure.  I still need some time to myself.  I often escape to my room when my husband gets home and take some much needed alone time, a chance to regroup, be still, have no little hands grabbing at me.

 But I think there's something to Mandy's questioning.  I have moved out of my hiding hole at the extreme end of the introvert spectrum.  It comes from embracing what's inside, and sharing that with a man who welcomes the revelation.  It comes from rising to the role of Mama Bear, being the advance guard for my cubs.  And it comes from a comfort and love that are bigger than all of us, knowing that I am loved by my Creator, that I am living a life that was made just for me.