To all dear mamas….

On my way home from a glorious swim this morning, I passed a beautiful mother who smiled at me through tired eyes.  She was already out on a walk with her baby at 7:30 am.   I could only imagine that the baby had been up since 4:30 and this was her first nap of the day.  And maybe it was the kind of baby that only napped while being pushed in a chariot (I know this kind…) so the mama never gets to nap – except, eventually walking becomes kind of like a nap.

I remember those days – and then I don’t because they were so darn blurry – living in continual exhaustion – obsessed about when you might be able to close your eyes for 20 minutes…. day or night….. oh those days.  Dear mamas, I send you so much love and support – from the bottom of my heart.  Those days are so precious with your wee one (or wee ones) and also so hard. I know that feeling when every cell in your body is drenched in exhaustion -and you have to keep going –  no break in sight…. oh mamas, if I could send you an 8 hour sleep, do your groceries, cook your dinner and take care of your toddler while you snuggle your newborn(s) I would.

For me, when I was in this state – and I’ve written about it in detail in my first few blog posts – I was forced to live ‘in the moment’ because I had three little ones flooding me with a constant torrent of demands.  I was constantly on the move – and had to be – and there literally wasn’t time for me to ever reflect or unwind…or do anything other than attend to them…. I know you know this feeling.

But, I started to notice how often I played the ‘victim’ story out in my mind.  It became part of who I really believed myself to be for a while.  I could still pull out a sense of humour around it all -but I definitely let people know that I was only getting a scattered 4 hours of sleep every 24 hours -for a year… this story was ‘true’ – but by telling it, I was playing the victim, the martyr and the hero all at once.  By telling this story (in my head), I would get mad at people for not helping more, or I’d harbour resentment towards my incredibly supportive (and equally exhausted) husband for some ridiculous victim-related need….. I was always in touch with how lucky I was/am – for everything in my life, but this victim story definitely caused a layer of suffering beyond the challenges that reality was presenting.

Now, I’m not for a second saying it wasn’t hard.  It was.  And I’m not being ‘hard on myself’ for how I was thinking and acting in those challenging months… but I have to say, it was truly revolutionary when I realized that I didn’t have to play the victim – I could just meet the fatigue, the tantrums and the demands as they came – and drop the analysis of ‘how much I’d done, or ‘how little I’d rested/showered/eaten’ or ‘how hard it was still’…..

But it was hard to drop it all at once –  I was addicted to playing the victim – it had become such a part of who I believed myself to be!!!!  I have this victim to thank – she was pivotal – and still is- in my on-going awakening.

I kind of knew I was doing this ‘poor me’ thing – but I couldn’t stop.  I felt like I needed to have a story to explain why I was so emotional, so exhausted, so foggy and bleary (instead of just being those things with no need for a reason).  This victim story gave me this inner entitlement to feel the need for sympathy.  I wanted people to support the victim I was playing.

But when I started inquiring – into the deeper truth of who and what I am.  (And I’m sure meeting Gangaji had something to do with it all).  Things started to change.  The torrent of demands are still there, the exhaustion (although it is waaaaaaay better mamas – hang in there) is still around – but ‘I’ don’t allow ‘myself’ to tell the story anymore.  I can hear the melody of the victim storyline from time to time – but I’ve noticed that it isn’t something I attach to anymore.  It’s just a bundle of thoughts – an identity that I used to really buy into, but now when I hear it, there is no more charge pulling me towards it – it isn’t ‘mine’ anymore.  If I ever do feel a slight pull into picking up that storyline, I just ask ‘who is this victim?’ and am left with a humble and knowing gentle smile (and an honouring of what I’m not).

It’s liberating.  So now I meet reality (whatever it brings) without a story.  And so often these days, I notice such a deep sense of ease and joy.  I’m still on the move for sure – with two almost 2 yr olds and an almost 4 yr old, but the ‘challenges’ don’t get my knickers in a knot like they used to.  Now when feelings of impatience or frustration wash through (which they do)- there isn’t a whole story on top of ‘see how hard it is for poor old me?’

So mamas – who I bow to for your endless work- be honest about where you are hanging onto a story.  I know it feels like you have a ‘right’ to this story…or that people will stop helping if you don’t tell the story because they won’t know how ‘hard it is’….. but this story adds a layer of shit that doesn’t need to be there.  I love you mamas – maybe we should have a mamas night (free of course) in Golden BC sometime soon?  Where we can chat about this in person? Maybe I’ll create an event and let’s get underneath this story so you don’t have to carry that too……..it takes courage to drop this story – you feel like you are putting down your armour and nakedly facing life without any kind of defence….

so much love,

L xo