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Wordless Wednesday: January, In Pictures #instagram366 is original, copywritten content (unless otherwise indicated) by Stacey Nerdin for her blog Tree, Root, and Twig. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.

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To recap (in case you’re new here – hi!), I have five kids: 17, 15, 13, 10, and 4.

Oftentimes when I express frustration or fatigue as a Mother, I’m met with some version of the phrase, “Well, at least your kids are older.”

I’ve never asked anyone what they meant by that; frankly, in the heat of the moment, I’m kind of a wimp about seeming confrontational or contrary.

But taken in context, it’s safe to assume that these comments – usually offered by friends with young children – imply that things must be so much easier for me because my children are older.

If I think about it, I can understand. When my children were young, the reality of being able to leave them alone while I ran to the store seemed as far off and dreamy as Peter Pan’s Neverland.

Having kids who could dress, feed, entertain, and more-or-less take care of themselves seemed like the heavenly light at the end of the dreary parenting tunnel.

So, I get it.

But…

just like Peter Pan, the idea that having older kids is somehow easier is just a fairy tale after all.

True, now I can shower in relative peace, but…

more often than not, my shampoo is missing, my razor is dull, the soap is used up, and the drain is clogged with hair.

True, now they are not my constant shadows, but…

I’m on constant alert as to where they are, what they are doing, with whom they are doing it, and when they’ll be home.

True, I don’t have to wake up with them in the middle of the night, but…

sometimes they don’t come home until the middle of the night, and I’m up anyway, waiting for them.

True, now I can leave the house on my own for a little bit, but…

I will likely come home to food wrappers and dirty dishes in the living room, furniture re-arranged, the animals unfed, and my youngest running around in a ripe, crusty Pull-Up.

True, now they can feed themselves, but…

they feed themselves all the time, somehow managing to finish off ingredients I needed for that night’s dinner.

True, now they’re old enough to “help” with chores and babysitting, but…

it still requires a great deal of dictatorship on my part to get their “help.”

True, the days of “I hope I’m doing this right” are mostly past me, but…

now I’m consumed with “Did I do everything I could?” and “It’s too late now, I’m out of time!”

Honestly, I wouldn’t trade these days for the early ones – I’ve written before about how much I love parenting my teens! – but parenting older kids isn’t a careless, carefree venture. There are still a lot of complexities, annoyances, frustrations, and challenges to my mental health.

It’s like having a cold that moves from your head to your chest – the discomfort isn’t gone, it’s just settled in a little deeper.

If you are a young mother and feel that I’ve altogether burst your bubble, I apologize. You have many wonderful things to look forward to with parenting older children. But eating bon bons on the sofa and living a life of relative ease are, sadly, not among them!

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The Myth of Parenting Older Children is original, copywritten content (unless otherwise indicated) by Stacey Nerdin for her blog Tree, Root, and Twig. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.

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• I am unloving, cold, stingy, withholding of emotion, a miser with my Self.
• I can’t handle responsibility, I fold, I fail, I make bad decisions.
• I’m a mess.
• I am an outsider, I do not belong.
• I am not worth listening to.
• I am broken, corrupt, not worthy.

These are the things I really, truly, as a regular default, believe about myself.

If this surprises you at all, maybe it’s because I’ve become good at what researcher & author Brené Brown calls “hustling for my worthiness.” I do this, I do that, I do my song and dance. I collect recognitions and accolades and have difficulty forcing myself to feel the full weight and meaning of them because I’m so hungry to hustle to the next semblance of worthiness, of approval, of acceptance.

Brown says:

“When we spend a lifetime trying to distance ourselves from the parts of our lives that don’t fit with who we think we’re supposed to be, we stand outside of our story and hustle for our worthiness by constantly performing, perfecting, pleasing, and proving.” (p 23, The Gifts of Imperfection)

Performing, perfecting, pleasing, and proving. I’ve been doing that my whole life.

And I’ve been standing outside of my story and hustling for my worthiness for a long, very long, time.

I always thought my feelings of unworthiness, my constant tape of negative self-talk, were symptoms of my depression, something I have struggled with since my teenage years and have taken medication for in the past.

After reading Brené Brown’s book The Gifts of Imperfection these past few days, I’m beginning to understand that my depression is a result of these feelings of unworthiness and negative self-talk.

And where do these feelings of unworthiness and negative self-thoughts come from?

Shame.

Brown explains that shame comes from several places outside of us – parents, teachers, peer groups, within organizations, as part of the media or as part of our culture at large. Shame is used to correct behavior, command control, compel one to conform. It’s used to get immediate, desired results. And sadly, it’s used to sell products or lifestyles, persuade opinions, garner votes.

In my case, I also feel as if shame has come from inside of me. Being prone to shame, with the groundwork already established that I am not worthy, I often generate and perpetuate shame with no outside help whatsoever.

I have many examples in my life of shame happening to me and happening inside of me. So much so that it really has become the default setting for my life.

It is never “I did something bad” (what Brown explains as “guilt”), but “I am bad” (how shame differentiates itself).

Everything in my everyday life seems to testify of it. The dishes on the counter = You’re so lazy you can’t even keep the kitchen clean. The phone call I didn’t return = You’re such a jerk you can’t even bother to call that person back. The form I forgot to sign = You’re such a mess you can’t keep anything straight.

It’s never just about the dishes or the phone call or the permission slip. My default turns everything back on me, confirming my basic shameful belief that I am broken, a mess, unworthy.

How do you combat shame?

Brown gives three clear, distinct strategies for developing what she calls “shame resiliance:”

• courage – not heroic courage, but the “ordinary courage” to tell our stories, to live in our vulnerabilities, to be seen – deeply seen
• compassion – to practice daily kindness with ourselves, to understand that “we are all made of strength and struggle”
• connection – we must reach out to others, either in exposing our own shame or helping others to identify and combat their own

Brown presents all of her research and the guideposts for what she calls “wholehearted living” in a concise, unsentimental way. Despite discussing such powerful emotions, she never descends into the arena of warm, fuzzy, self-help psycho-babble. Hers is a dissection of the human condition, and real, qualitative ways for improving one’s life.

I mentioned to a friend online yesterday that I think Brene Brown’s research and books are saving my life. It may sound melodramatic, but it’s true.

I have been in a deep depression for several months, despite employing what I felt were useful tactics and strategies to deal with it, and despite the ever-present love and support of my family.

Still, it wasn’t until reading The Gifts of Imperfection – and consequently finding Brown’s blog, ordering her other book, finding interviews, podcasts, and videos of her online – that I was finally able to understand the anatomy and origin of my depression, and trace it back to shame. An emotion – though complex and longing to fester in silence – I have every hope and belief that I can fight.

For the first time in an interminably long time, I feel hopeful, I feel empowered.

I do not feel broken.

I feel worthy.

*Disclosure: Amazon affiliate links used.

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No More Room for Shame is original, copywritten content (unless otherwise indicated) by Stacey Nerdin for her blog Tree, Root, and Twig. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.

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The Problem with SOPA (And How To Stop It) from CopyBlogger

A fabulous resource for taking action:

http://americancensorship.org/

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My mind seems caught in a six-month time warp.

Even though I am going through each day, fulfilling responsibilities, meeting deadlines, completing routine tasks, my mind is not here.

It’s on a six-month fast-forward, caught up in anxieties and hopes and the frenetic logistics of moving our family yet again.

Last July my husband took a job promotion in Chicago. The kids and I stayed in Houston so our oldest daughter could finish her senior year here. The plan was to move our entire family after graduation, most likely to Chicago.

We’ve had news since then that my husband is needed in his company’s new Dallas office. So…we’ll remain in Texas. [mixed emotions there] He now commutes weekly between Houston and Dallas, and we are scheduled to move during the 2nd week of July.

Even though our move will now be only 3 hours away (instead of several states away), moving a family our size – with a house our size – is still a monumental feat.

As part of his relocation package, we’ll have movers pack and transport our things. We had the same arrangement for our move from Oregon to Texas, and although it sounds quite cushy, there are still many challenges.

Namely: deciding exactly what’s worth moving (again) and what needs to be weeded from our possessions. The movers may be packing our things, but I still have to unpack them, and what do I really want to find space for in a new, likely much smaller, home?

So I’ve been finding myself walking through my house, evaluating every couch and cushion, plate, book, photo, and more. Everything, big and small, is under the microscope.

Makes it hard to just live each day, feeling like that. And trust me,  I have enough “life” to occupy my every thought as it is. It’s making me a little crazy to try and fit two lives into each day: things as they are now, things as they need to be in six months.

And yet, I feel blessed to have this time to prepare. We’ve moved before with little notice, and that is tough as well. I need to make the most of this, even if it does make me feel chained to a fixed point 1/2 a year down the road. It’s a tug-of-war, to be sure.

Then there is the entire matter of where, exactly, we will live. Six months seems incredibly early to find an area we love, but I think we have. Which makes me anxious, too, because it’s not like we can put any applications in, pay any deposits, lay claim to anything at all. We have to hope opportunities will be open when it’s time to put everything in writing. That’s a lot of faith to place in the future.

My husband says these months will pass in a flash, and I’m sure he’s right. For now, though, I’m stuck straddling two distinct points in time and praying that the moments in between don’t wreck my nerves too much.

And don’t even get me started on what is coming in September! (two words: daughter + college. yikes!)

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Why My Mind Can’t Manage To Stay in the Present is original, copywritten content (unless otherwise indicated) by Stacey Nerdin for her blog Tree, Root, and Twig. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.

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