Kindness Ever After

  Once upon a time, there was a blog that was more than a blog. "Mommy, Ever After" is the online presence of Rebecca Fox Starr, a warm, honest, mother of two, openly sharing her experiences as a mom, a wife, and a person recovering from illness. By sharing details of her real-time journey of healing and growth, she inspires readers with her candor and wit.
  My path crossed Becca's before I ever read her blog. But I quickly became sucked in to the Mommy, Ever After universe, not so much by choice, but rather like being swallowed by an irresistible force of nature. Becca's warmth and honesty attracts others who share those traits, forming such a likable group of women that it's hard to resist being swept up into her fan base. And through this association - or membership - or badge of honor - as an "MEA" follower, I have connected with many women - some moms, some not - who are struggling to find more happiness and fulfillment in life.
  A recurring theme among these women is "mommy guilt." Which, as it turns out, can be more universally described as "female guilt." I am astounded by how many women (mothers or not) are plagued by guilt - guilt about not being a good enough mother, wife, partner, daughter, sister, friend. The more I listen to other women, the more I feel as though we have all had enormous expectations placed upon us, and we have accepted that burden without a fight. Many of the women I've heard from were taught that they should be traditional wives and mothers - making dinner every night, keeping a tidy home, and serving as primary caregivers for their children - while also having successful careers and taking advantage of opportunities for "modern" women in higher education and the workplace. Add to this the new norm of over-scheduling (for ourselves and our kids) and 24/7 availability by cell phone, and it's no wonder that these women feel like they can't "do it all."
  No one can do it all. And more importantly, no one needs to do it all. What we need is to be kind to ourselves, to recognize that we are not failures when we can't do 150%. We need to realize, to believe, that we are amazingly successful. And that we are not alone. "Mommy, Ever After" has helped me to see that, for better or worse, I am far from unique. My struggles, my challenges, my insecurities, my guilt - these are shared by so many other women. So I have resolved to let myself off the hook. I will try to remind myself that the moms who seems to have it all figured out probably don't. And I will try to show myself the kindness and forgiveness that I strive to show everyone else. I hope that other women, struggling with guilt and trying to achieve some impossible level of perfection, will stop, if only for a moment, and be kind to themselves too.

This Old Heart of Mine

  A few minutes ago, I was standing in the grocery store, sobbing. I read the words in front of me over and over, awed by their simplicity and truth. Let me back up - yesterday I had an unusual experience. Not a bad one, but strange. You know how sometimes a situation seems almost surreal and you feel like you have to tell someone, to put it out there and make it real? Well that was last night. My first and only instinct was to tell my friend B. No one else would do, no one else would understand. I needed to confide something complex, emotional, and deeply personal, so of course I chose . . . um, someone I barely know.  I didn't meet B. very long ago ago and we have spent almost no time together. We know each other primarily through a handful of electronic email exchanges. But there is something that connects us, something inexplicable but wonderful. B. told me that I "get" her. This is nothing new; people tell me all the time that I "get" them like no one else ever has. But what doesn't happen is people "getting" me back. But B. gets me. She really gets me. There are moments when it feels like we're women in a news story about twins separated at birth and reunited as adults - they run into each other's arms, crying, instantly joined as if they'd never been apart. Except that we're not twins. When B. was born, I was graduating from college. And yet, we are connected in this crazy and beautiful way. I sometimes feel like I want to explain it, but mostly I just want to embrace it. What a gift to stumble upon someone who can hear what my heart speaks and understand what my soul feels. 

  And so it was that I sent B. a message last night about my strange experience. And she wrote back and completely understood why I did what I did, what I was feeling, why I was feeling it, and what it all meant. And then today, I went to the grocery store. I pushed my cart past a display of magnets and one caught my eye: "Your heart and my heart have been friends for a very, very long time." YES! That's it exactly! Our hearts have been friends for a very long time. And I cried. Right there next to the self-checkout line. I don't know if people were staring; I was oblivious. I was just overwhelmed with the joy and gratitude of having found a heart that had known my heart for a very, very long time.