The Mother I Hope to Be

Today is Mother’s Day. Probably a bit cliche to write on this day, but I’m so full of emotion and overflowing with sensitivity I truly cannot help but share all that I’m feeling with any who will resonate.

This happens to me my first momma’s day spent while pregnant. I’m expecting my first child, a reality that blooms ripe with intense concerns and endless what if’s. I’m scared shitless, to be frank. On one hand, I’m glad I waited until 30 to have my first. I did a lot of learning in my twenties, had a lot of fun, experienced a lot of travel, toyed with a couple career options, lived overseas and in big cities.

I think I’m far enough removed from my own childhood to be on own momma, to parent in my own unique way, to be the organic baby food making, cloth diaper using, natural birth having, breast feeding momma I want to be.

But that’s just what I think. What do I feel? Frightened! Confused! So unsure, plagued with doubt, worry and disbelief this is all happening. I wanted this child so much, and still do, but now the surreality of being a mother has me questioning everything. Am I strong enough? Will I know what to do? Am I confident enough to be a genuine role model? Am I enough?

And it was this morning when I woke up that I realized all these questions and concerns were nonsense. I’m sure every first time mother feels their own version of this. These questions can never be answered, certainly not with my mind, not with the endless array of books and advice out there. Nowhere.

I simply must trust that my ability and desire to love and care for this little being will supersede all the mistakes I am sure to make. Each day when I talk to my mom, all I feel is loved, supported, encouraged and uplifted. And that’s all I felt throughout childhood. Even through those formidable moments when you discover your mom is in fact human, I still only felt loved. And that’s what has carried me through my toughest days, my biggest doubts, my lowest lows.

My momma’s love and dedication to being our mom gave us permission to be human, it gave us that invisible net to fall into, so we were unafraid to reach and jump, to be the weird little humans she raised us to be. What better gift can I give my child than that? Than genuine unconditional love? Real love, unwavering love, joyous love.

The mother I hope to be is the momma I had. She never seemed tired of us, bored with us, irritated by us, regretful of her role as our mother. She seemed right at home in our home. She set wise boundaries while letting us test our limits. She instilled a strong sense of compassion for other living beings, a belief in our abilities to work hard and achieve the life we wanted, and most importantly, the ability to love and be loved.

Thank you, Momma. I know I can do this. And when I can’t, at least I have you. I love all you incredible mothers out there. Go hug a mom.

Returning To Who You Always Were

My mom sent me a photo recently. It’s of me at 3 years old, circa 1987, the one showcased below. I keep looking at it. I have the most bizarre feelings. I cycle between laughter and tears. I cannot believe the pure, innocent JOY radiating from every pore. This chick does not give a shit. She is blissed and doesn’t care who knows it. She’s free.

Like how I refer to her as her and she but not me? Weird, huh? I know it’s me, but I see her as a totally separate being, almost as if she’s my child, my little sister, my cousin, someone I love deeply but she can’t be me. I still carry her exuberance, her boisterous personality, her sense of humor, her enthusiasm. But life has chipped away at that pure, honest beauty she was.

Despite my being happier than ever (well, not ever, refer to said photo!), feeling great in my skin and with my life, there is something in my expression that is less raw. I want it back. I want to return to who I always was.

Where did she go? Why can’t we restore the pure openness and loving nature we’re given at birth? Heartbreaks, losses, failures and embarrassments chip away at our true nature. But they shouldn’t. We can always return home.

Who cares if your parents got divorced or if your girlfriend cheated on you or if you got fired or if you never got hired or if you fell on your ass or fell on your face? Who cares? Seriously. Who fucking cares? No one. That is all a misguided perception created by this evil hole in our minds.

Naturally, none of us wants to fail. None of us wants to be betrayed, to have a love unrequited, to go for a big dream and experience rejection. Of course not. But what other choice do we have? And who are we answering to? If you’re a grown ass adult and your parents make you feel guilty or shitty for not succeeding in a way they dreamed for you, oh well.

I know I seem dismissive and cavalier, but it’s YOUR life. No one else’s. It’s none of your parent’s business any longer how you make your living, how you do your loving, why you feel compelled toward a certain path. Anyone worth being in your life will love and encourage you through whatever weird journey you embark upon.

There’s a place for blunt and honest advice. In fact, that’s the absolute best to receive. No nonsense, no bullshit, straight forward truth. And just because someone tells you something you don’t want to hear doesn’t mean they don’t love or support you. As long as they respect your choices and genuinely wish for your health and happiness, then you can take the advice that resonates and throw away the rest. And they’ll be fine either way.

And so will you. So why not return to your true nature? The person you were born to be? Joyous, delightful, silly, weird, excited, passionate, dynamic, unique, without a care for who approves or disapproves. Now, there’s an important distinction to be made between not worrying about others think, staying true to yourself and your dreams, and using the whole not caring what others think as an excuse to be a dick.

I used to be that way. I wasn’t a bully, definitely not. If anything, my attempt and attitude surrounded bullying bullies. I got off on putting people in their place. But I certainly used the not caring excuse to be bitchy and blunt in a negative way. Now, I sincerely want to leave people feeling good in my presence. If I don’t dig them, if they’re pissy or unfortunate, I’ll kindly send them on their way.

Putting them in their place was so about me, not about them. My ego got a great rush of satisfaction when slapping them with some acerbic wit or proving someone else wrong. Being right is such a trivial victory.The reward leaves the soul as quickly as it entered, if the soul was even involved at all. So, luckily, age and many lessons learned brought me to a place where I don’t need to be right as much.

Back to the point on hand. Returning to that jolly, ridiculous 3 year old. You think she gave a shit that her hair was frizzy, her bangs were too short, her thighs were touching, or some popular girl didn’t like her Winnie the Pooh shirt? No. Hell no. She is owning it. God, I love her. Look at her! Go find some old photos of yourself or try to recall a memory from childhood, before the world darkened your perception, when there was no filter in your mind, no worries in your heart. You were happy just to Be.

Let’s all meet back there. It’s possible to be experienced, intelligent, previously jaded, and hopeful, bright eyed and unapologetically yourself at the same time. It’s a choice! You have a moment, a light bulb moment where you recognize the patterns you want to change. You get sick of being cranky, sick of seeing your flaws instead of your strengths, sick of feeling anxious over what another could be thinking, and BAM! You start living, thinking, breathing and moving for yourself.

Once you start living from your joy, driven toward a path un-carved by anyone else, operating from a sense of love and a near desperate need to soak up the most out of life, other people respond. They love that shit! You’ll attract happier people, the beings you’ve always wanted but tried too hard to get. Real, open, honest, funny, fantastic relationships emerge, personally and professionally.

Most children are unafraid. They’re bold. They try and they don’t give a fuck if they fail. They have no concept of trying to please another, worrying about they’ll be judged or perceived. No way. Why not return to that mentality? It’s right there for the taking! It’s truly who you are and who you are meant to be.

Me attempting to keep my childish enthusiasm in Bali;)

Return to who you always were. Be blissed. Be free. Eat life.

Engage with me further at danieatslife.com
Retreat with me in San Luis Obispo, March 22-25, 2014