How honest are people, really?

How honest are people, really? Think about it. What do you hide from others? What are you afraid you of, that others don't know about? How honest are you really? Thank you to Ben for pointing out that maybe I am using the wrong word here. Maybe it's not honesty, maybe it's how much of the truth are you willing to share? When asked how you are - do you answer politely, Great! or do you tell them how you really are? If you are sitting with a group of mothers and you mention that you really don't find it rewarding (at least maybe not as much as you feel you ought to) and no one speaks up, is it because you are the only one, or because no one else wants to admit it? Why wouldn't you want to admit it? What is your reason, really?

Being a mother

After having lunch with an old high school friend, I decided I have some things that must be explained for my own peace of mind:

It's not that I don't like being a mother. It's not that I don't love my children (or my husband for that matter!) It's that it just doesn't fit with my emotional psyche. Should someone who faints at the sight of blood become a medical surgeon? Should someone who is afraid of heights become an airplane pilot? My emotional psyche can't find rewards in being a mother. It just might be impossible! If for one second I were to acknowledge a job well done, or that I did something right for a change, it only takes another nanosecond for me to remember all the things I have done wrong and will still do wrong. I can't stop worrying about whether I am doing the wrong things and what consequences my decisions and actions will bring. Is there something I could have done differently so that Blake wouldn't have such aggression for Maxwell? Could I have done something differently to prevent Maxwell from thinking that hitting is a form of playing? I know I can't change anything in the past, only the present and future; but the problems that I face (possibly because of something I did wrong in the past) are so frustrating. So frustrating, in fact, that it seems that there is no solution, no way to make these things better.

Identity Theft has a new definition: pregnancy and nursing. I eat, sleep, drink and feel not for myself, but for the baby. While there might not be anything wrong with that (I mean, what would the world be like if we didn't have that nurturing instinct for our children,) it leaves me feeling like I have no idea who I am. All I know is how to clean. And cook. And change diapers. All I talk about is my child(ren), or parent stuff, or other things I would never thought I would talk about with other people. I plan around nap times and "will my children actually be able to sit through that?" I measure every appointment and outing: are they too tired; will this stress me out so much I struggle to control my temper; will there be a place to change a diaper; are there breakable things, etc. In the end, I find I have lost my goals, my dreams, my hopes in a pile of dirty diapers, mounds of toys, heaps of dishes and loads of laundry.

If I leave my children to have "adult time," am I inadvertently telling my children I don't love them? Am I abandoning them when they need me? Will this result in consequences too severe for me to even consider? Yes, I have guilt. To top off all of the above, I am constantly filled with guilt. Do I do enough? Am I providing them with the things they need (beside food, shelter and clothing?) If I did more, would things be better? If I cleaned less and played more, would my children benefit? If I cleaned more and played less, would they suffer? Are the punishments we dole out too severe, do they help to make the poor behavior better? Or do they just create more problems? Questions, questions, guilt, loss of identity, questions and more questions, helplessness...........

With that said, how does one find joy, fulfillment and reward in being a stay-at-home mother? Is it that I don't want to be a mother, or is it that I just don't have the emotional tools necessary to get the job done and feel fulfillment by doing so?

Journaling?

Over the past few years, I have had reason to reflect on the importance of journaling. If I have realized anything, it is that journaling is a skill - an art maybe. I used to think that I should write down conversations and events, etc, just as they happened. After reading bit's of my Mom's journals, I have had the following epiphany: Names, who said what, who was wrong, aren't important things to write about, for others to read especially when questions can no longer be asked and answered. I also learned that any time you make note of a troubling decision that is to be made - you should always, at some point, document the decision or end result. I remembering reading one of Mom's entries about money, and paying bills. Tithing or bills? What I want to know is what did she decide? Did she pay her tithing? She never did say.

I often wonder about my Mom's life - her own individuality. What was she really like as a person - a separate entity other than wife and mother? I always knew her as a Mom (mostly that meant disclipinarian and answer(er). How many of us remember asking Dad and him responding with "Go ask your mother."? I know that she kissed Dad goodbye every day. That they never yelled at each other (that doesn't mean they didn't have disagreements - just no yelling.) I know they often told me they loved me. I know how important it was to her to teach us the gospel, to rear her children to be righteous sons and daughters of God. But what of her personality? What did she want to do? Was she an artist? Was she an engineer? Would she have liked to have parties often, or have large groups of friends that she hung out with regularly? How did she feel about herself? What were her strengths, her weaknesses? Oh, the questions I would ask her if only I had known that I wouldn't be able to get the answers now. Yes, I suppose that someone else could tell me what they think, but I believe that too often we each have an opinion based on our own interpretation of body language, or misunderstand silences or conversations (and sometimes ill-used phrases.)

It was amazing to watch home videos of Mom as a young girl, and as a teenager. It made me want to know her better, to understand her passions, her triumphs, her opinions, her failures. The sad thing is that I think I didn't miss out on learning more about her because she died so young, but because it took me so long to grow up enough (well, I don't know that I have grown up at all, but I would like to think that being a mother now gives me a little more insight) to realize that I wanted to know these things. I wasted so much time. I think that I will always regret that. How much time do I continue to waste over silly arguments, or hurt feelings, and worst of all - anger?

What I really hope to accomplish, is journaling that one day can be read, long after my physical body has passed from this life, and my children and grandchildren will learn what it is that I learned in my lifetime through decision making and trials - triumphs and defeats - love and yes, unfortunately, anger. Do they need to know the finer details - the whos, whats, wheres and whens? What I want them to know is that I found joy and peace, prosperity (not necessarily monetarily,) knowledge, gratitude, and love in my lifetime here on Earth. I want them to be able to laugh at the jokes my brothers told, and watch home videos of the guys singing Adam Sandler songs, to know that we teased Uncle Morgan about girls, and that Grandpa has his own particular scent when he fluffers (and that yes, we came up with that word I think at an FHE because my Mom didn't like the other terms for it!) and that Grandpa is a very silent thinker, but you do have to keep alert, because yes, sometimes he falls asleep thinking! And that he wipes grout and caulking and paint on his work pants, which is why they are so colorful (and why the washers and dryers break, I am sure!) Who Mikayla, Rachel Skidmore and General What's His Name? Gregorovich are? That some of my fondest memories are of the family sitting around after a meal (poor Mom, she was probabaly stuck cleaning the dishes) and we would tell stories and jokes. I remember once when we got together and we kept telling the same joke over and over and changing one or two words, and we must have laughed for like an hour! They got so corny, but it was so much fun! I want them to know that one of the things I appreciate about my brothers and sisters are all the movie quotes they have in their heads. That every time I hear them sing, or perform anything musical, that it makes me wish I were a better person, that I had tried a littler harder, and that I absolutely love music and am overwhelmed by its power to create such strong emotions in people (even when it is not perfect or professional!) Wow! I guess I had better get started, I have a lot to record!