Life Love Mom

Tag: momtruth

  • The Grass Is Greener On The Filtered Side Of The Square

    The Grass Is Greener On The Filtered Side Of The Square

    We all do it… sometimes weekly…. usually daily… the mindless social media scroll. Our time to unplug without expectations or responsibilities. A safe, easy way to disconnect from our responsibilities and check in with those we know, and often times those we don’t. Except it is never that easy or safe. In fact, if we are not careful, it may be the most detrimental thing we do all day.

    “Social media was a place for witty, satirical comments; stylistic food pics; photos of beautiful homes and children; and birth announcements. It was a place to scroll through to get an idea of where you fared in the world, and figure out whether you were winning or losing at life.”

    The Family Next Door, Sally Hepworth

    Social media is a funny thing. We approach it as though it is an open door into people’s entire lives instead of a small window. We view, judge, and envy them based on what they post in little squares. I am guilty of this, as well. Getting caught up in what people post about themselves is so easy. Their accomplishments, their vacations, their bright and shiny lives. We see all the things they want to share and all the ways they want to show their lives to others.

    In the past, I have done the same on my own accounts. We want to showcase all the good things and memorialize them in the social media squares we post. We want others to see the good things about our lives. Those are the things we are comfortable sharing. There is no danger in that. And the truth is, as consumers of social media, I doubt the escape would be as fulfilling if our feeds were filled with negative or difficult topics. The state of the world right now is one of the reasons we turn to social media to “tune out” the noise – to go and see fun, light, uplifting content.

    Very few people want to air their grievances, dirty laundry, or hard days for the entire internet to see – and with good reason. There is no reason to invite people into every aspect of our lives and let them know all our struggles. There is no reason to post about the fight we had with our spouse about taking the garbage out or the way it takes double the allotted amount of time to leave the house in the morning. These are private moments that aren’t meant to see the light of day. They are events that are meant to be sorted out in private without a show to the world. However, when we intentionally leave those out of the equation, we present a filtered view of our lives. We present only half of the story.

    This is not to say that I think that everyone should post everything about their lives. Some things SHOULD remain private, and not open to the world. We do not have a responsibility to anyone other than ourselves. The purpose is not to share the ins and outs of everything that you do every day. We are not animals in social media cages for everyone else to ogle and point at. I have always wondered this about influencers, who often post so many aspects of their daily lives.

    There is a point at which posting about everything leaves little room to actually live your life. We have to be okay to live outside of the camera instead of through it. In an effort to video and photograph our moments and lives, we forget to truly live through them. This is not healthy either, nor does it set a good example for our children.

    However, I think that there needs to be a medium, both for creators and consumers of social media. Over the past couple of years, I have tried to be more candid about the struggles I am facing. I have used this blog as a vehicle to share many of those deeper, more honest thoughts. I have also tried to share more on my social media to present more. of a whole picture. There are still things I keep very private and have no interest in sharing with others. If you are in my inner circle, you are privy to that information, but it is not out for the world to see. And that is how I believe it should be. There is also still an element of fear about being judged by others that I m working through. This will never change, but I am beginning with being more open and honest with myself, and I am hopeful that the rest will come. It won’t ever change completely, but perhaps there will be a shift in that direction.

    As a consumer, it is more difficult in many ways. Understanding that people only post certain elements of their lives is easy to digest when you are in the mindset to do so. When you are in a positive headspace you can see social media for what it is – a snapshot into others’ lives covered in pretty filters and hashtags. It is a collection of what others want us to see. However, when you are feeling down, doubtful, or anxious, it is more difficult to see it for what it is.

    We view it with green eyes and self-doubt. Why are they happy? How do they have everything together? Why are their children so perfect? How can I have what they have? We quickly forget that there is so much going on behind the scenes that aren’t shared because we are already feeling down on ourselves.

    I have had numerous conversations about this with my therapist, and how not to fall into that trap. She gave me the best advice on the matter – use the mute button. If they are not serving you, shelf them for a bit. It doesn’t mean that you have to delete those accounts indefinitely, but giving yourself a break from those who are not welcome in your season of life is liberating. I have been trying to change my algorithm by following and interacting with accounts that fill my bucket and my soul. Accounts that are more real, geared towards self-care and daily quotes that fuel my soul. I have also significantly decreased my time on social media in total. I know my sister goes as far as to put a 30-minute timer filter on her phone so it only lets her go on social media for a small period of time per day. She never comes close to that time, but even knowing it’s there is enough for her.

    I think, above all, I must close with this: like many topics in this blog, I write about things I am nowhere near perfect at. I share my thoughts because they are relevant to me, and I believe that opening the discussion is the best place to start. I do not share to be preachy or because I have everything together. This is so far from the case. I am struggling with this every day. So let’s try to normalize that what we see and show in our squares is only a piece of the puzzle. It is the view we want to give others. And there is nothing wrong with that AS LONG AS we take it for what it is – a filtered view of reality.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • Have We Entered The Twilight Zone?

    Have We Entered The Twilight Zone?

    **TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains material of a graphic and controversial nature**

    I am angry, upset, and speechless. This past week, a historical error was made in the United States supreme court. It took me time before I could even prepare to write this. I had to let the information sit with me, and mull it over for a while. This is the first time in a long time that I needed to formulate my thoughts before I could even begin to put them down on “paper”.

    Let me start by discussing Roe vs. Wade, and why it is important. In 1973 the United States supreme court voted against the banning of abortions in Texas, which in turn made abortions legal across the country. It maintained that it was a woman’s constitutional right to her body and decisions surrounding it. Up until that point, women could seek abortions for medical reasons, or travel out of the country if they had the financial means to do so. Those who were impoverished or did not have access to proper medical care sought out illegal clinics or, unfortunately, took matters into their own hands. The decision in 1973 allowed women to access abortions safely when necessary. It is also critical to add that constitutional law overrides state law, so states that wanted to ban or limit abortions no longer had the power to do so.

    After the ruling, women were able to make choices about their bodies based on their circumstances. This segued into birth control, health care, body and sexual autonomy. It would appear it was only about one issue, but in fact, so much more came of it. Crime rates, incidents of illegal abortions, and risk of death were all lowered. Employment and healthcare opportunities increased. By normalizing a woman’s right to choose, confidence increased. And yet, this week we were shuttled back 50 years when the court overturned the decision. Before we go any further, an important distinction needs to be made. Being pro-choice is not the same as being pro- or anti-abortion. Pro-choice means you are open to the right to choose. It doesn’t mean you have to agree with her choice. Pro-choice means that you believe that legislation and government should not dictate a woman’s body. And yet, here we are… stripping women of their right to choose what they want to do with their own bodies.

    Being pregnant and choosing not to be is not limited to women in committed relationships (although even then it is within a woman’s right to choose). Being pregnant as a result of rape, ectopic pregnancies, or pregnancies with fetal abnormalities are all reasons why women may choose to end the pregnancy. This doesn’t even mention medical or economic conditions which may come into play. I am not sure what upsets me more – the fact that this decision has been overturned or the number of times I have read comments on social media that if you don’t want to be pregnant, you should “just close your legs”. The shame that is placed on women for even being in the position to need to make a choice is its own version of cruel and unusual punishment.

    I WISH I was making this up because my faith in humanity drops down a point each time I read a comment like that. It is such a close-minded, myopic, uneducated point of view, which is almost always held by those who have never been put in the position to make that choice.

    All that is to say that there is a sense that when a woman chooses abortion it is a flippant decision, which is not necessarily the case. I want to qualify this by saying that I have never personally been in this position but I know others who have. Many women wrestle with the decision and do not come to it lightly. It is one that is made over the course of many days of debates and even more days of questioning after the fact. Women who choose to participate in abortions live with that decision every day – it is one they don’t forget.

    The overturning of this decision is about the right to choose, yes. But it is also about power, autonomy, voicelessness, the lack of rights for women, and the even smaller rights for those who are marginalized and impoverished. Yet again, those who have access to money and means will go to another state or another country to safely access abortions. Those who cannot, will be back to illegal clinics and underground means.

    For a country that is already grappling with the right to bear arms, and the rampant gun violence that is plaguing communities, it is a sad fact that women seem to have fewer rights than guns. Guns are protected – if you want them you can have them. Women, not as much.

    As a mother to a girl, I am sad. Even as I sit here and write this, I think about my own daughter. I am aware that I am writing this in Canada, and I technically don’t have to fear repercussions should she or I ever be forced to make a decision like this. I am grateful that the Canadian government has come out and stated that women’s rights are sacred and will never be up for debate. I am grateful that our country is one that has pledged not to politicize a woman’s reproductive system. But I would be remiss if I didn’t say I am still scared. I read a quote last week that said that “when the United States sneezes, Canada catches a cold”. While I don’t think the same law will come into effect here, our neighbours to the south do influence us. What does it say about the United States that 9 people have been able to make a decision affecting millions? Their morals, beliefs and laws are all, at some point, intertwined with ours. What does it say about us as humanity if the country that is considered one of the most progressive in the worst has sent women back to the dark ages? American children will have fewer rights than their mothers did. This will very sadly have global implications with other countries feeling more empowered to limit women’s reproductive rights.

    Interestingly enough, my daughter approached me as I was writing this and asked what I was writing about. I told her I didn’t want her to read it, and that I needed time to explain it to her. And I sit here wondering how I can even begin to verbalize this to her. Not because it is about sex and pregnancy but because it is the opposite of everything I have taught her about her body. I have always been very clear that it is her body, and she has every right to make decisions around it… and yet some people think that shouldn’t be the case. How do I explain to her that if she ever got pregnant and chose not to keep it that she could exercise her right to choose, but so many women have just had that right taken away? And on top of it all how do I begin t explain that there is nothing we can do to change it? Yes, we can donate to organizations, sign petitions and make our voices heard, but at the end of the day, the decision is not ours to make. This is a heavy pill to swallow.

    So I sit here, mad and angry. And the truth is, you should be angry, too. It doesn’t matter if you are a woman, a man, a Canadian, an American, someone who is out of child-bearing age, someone who doesn’t want children…. everyone should care. You should care about your mothers, sisters, and friends who are heartbroken by this silencing of their voices. You should care about the fact that women are feeling alone and abandoned. I am heartbroken that this is even a topic of discussion. I am devastated that there are so many women in a FIRST WORLD country that no longer have the autonomy to choose what to do with their bodies. I am enraged that the shame associated with rape and incest is magnified by the legality of the potential additional decision of terminating a resulting pregnancy. I feel helpless about the current state of humanity. Currently in search of an unknown silver lining…

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • The Best Form of Self-Care

    The Best Form of Self-Care

    So it’s been a minute since I’ve written. When I started this blog I had grand ideas about publishing once a week. It’s not that I don’t have enough to say, it’s that putting it down on paper has proven to be a trying task. There are times my mind feels like a washing machine, and all my thoughts are articles of clothing. They all mix together, unsorted, trying to get clean and organized. But instead, they just roll around in my head. Life has definitely gotten in the way and I have had to pause to take some time for myself. Taking care of my mental health is definitely harder to put into practice than just talking about it. It’s something I am a huge proponent of, and have written about before. However, as is always in life, talking about something and putting it into practice are two very different beasts. But… to be the best mother and woman I can be, I have to be a little bit selfish.

    Over the past little while. I have found myself having many conversations with people about therapy. It has made its way in countless times, not intentionally, but simply in the course of conversation. I have never been shy about speaking to a therapist, and I gladly share my experiences with others. I am a huge champion of therapy and the importance of both talk therapy and behaviour management skills (in the form of CBT and the like). I think this comes from my background in psychology, but also in seeing the results firsthand.

    I remember one time in the car, J had asked me about a therapy appointment. She wanted to know why I was seeing a therapist, In hindsight she actually got the terms therapist and chiropractor mixed up (ha!) but I didn’t know that at the time. I took the opportunity to explain to her how important therapy is and how wonderful it is for adults to seek support. I explained to her that just like kids need someone to talk to and problem-solve, adults need the same.

    It doesn’t go away just because you get older, even though children (and truth-be-told many adults) think it does. I told her that the strongest people in the world need therapy. And I truly meant it. I never want that therapy to be a bad word.

    All of this is why I’m here to say that therapy is one of the best forms of self-care. Far as someone who is perpetually anxious, talking through scenarios and potential issues is a great way to self-soothe. Even more so, using those opportunities to do inner work, speak to my inner self, and revisit previous traumas are all great ways to grow personally and psychologically. These are all things that cannot be accessed when we are in immediate crisis because they are less important at the time. However, they are just as important during growth periods.

    In the past, therapy has been viewed as something crazy people needed to do to get well, or that addicts needed to do in order to recover. It was mandated… necessary to become a better, more functioning member of society. But the truth is, we are complex beings. A lot is going on in our minds and the ability to resonate with our thoughts and be the strongest we can be mentally is so important.

    Being strong enough to say that we are working on ourselves is one of the best forms of self-care. Taking the time to be the best we can be, or even bitch and complain to an impartial party will allow us important clarity.

    One thing that I am working on is consistent appointments with my therapist, whether I am in crisis or not. Consistent doesn’t need to be weekly, but just at a regular interval. Although I am not ashamed to admit that my weekly therapy appointment is often the highlight of my week. I think that in many ways continuing therapy during those “downtimes” can be more powerful than when we feel we are in desperate need to speak to someone. I am guilty of this in a huge way. I let my therapy appointments lapse because I felt like I was in a good place. Then, the moment I felt like I was in crisis I was incredulous at the fact that my therapist couldn’t possibly drop everything and see me immediately. This is obviously completely unrealistic and a sure sign that I was in desperate need of therapy. But obviously, this is not the way the world works. And therapists don’t sit around like a crisis hotline waiting for you to meet them.

    It should be said, though, that although I am saying this with a bit of jest, there IS a crisis hotline should it be needed, and there is no shame in accessing it. In Canada, the Suicide Prevention Hotline is available at 1-833-456-4566. In Toronto (where I am based out-of) you can always call 905-408-HELP 24 hours/day. If you are EVER worried that you or someone close to you are in imminent danger of self-harm, please call 911.

    This is life (and we don’t ever have to go through it alone). Love, Mom.

  • I Love My Children, But….

    I Love My Children, But….

    It is no surprise that most of our friends and acquaintances are parents. It wasn’t really planned that way, but that’s how life turned out. A few days ago, Hubby and I were catching up with a friend. We were talking about having our kids returned to school and needing space from them for everyone’s benefit. He said something that stuck with me, as it truly reflected my own feelings. He said, “I LOVE my kids, but I want to LIKE them as well”. To me, this made a lot of sense. As parents, no one would doubt how much we love our kids. There is very little doubt about how much we would do for our kids, and what they mean to us. I would step in front of a train for my children. But sometimes, gosh, they are not very likable.

    It takes a lot to admit that there are times I need space from my kids. There is a lot of guilt and shame put on parents who think this – from society. Aren’t we supposed to love our kids unconditionally, aren’t we supposed to relish in every single moment and never want to be away from them? How could we ever fathom being apart?? When they were younger other moms would ask me about my thoughts on daycare. I would explain that I love my children, but I’m open to other people loving my children too.

    Because the time I spend with them should be positive. As much as possible I want to be able to enjoy our interactions. And truth be told, there are times when my judgement is clouded because I am so frustrated.

    Like many other parents, I have enough quips and one-liners to write a book. N, in particular, is full of them. He’s not saying them to be particularly sassy, but more in a matter-of-fact kind of way. He is our lawyer and will say whatever is on his mind – often times trying to argue his way out of things. For example, when I stated that I didn’t want to repeat myself again, he kindly pointed out that I “just did, so it’s too late”. Or when I told him I’m tired of asking him to do something he replied that perhaps I should “just go take a nap”. Looking back on those comments I can laugh because the truth is they are hilarious. However, at the moment they are definitely less than funny.

    Hubby has told me on numerous occasions I need to loosen up. He says that I am wound very tight when it comes to the children and that I can come across as being very short with them. This is a constant struggle for me, as I want to be the easy-going, laissez-faire kind of parent… but if you have read any of my previous posts you know that could not be further from the truth. The truth is that I need a break sometimes. Self-reflection and self-awareness have taught me that can be in the form of hiding in the pantry and counting to 10.

    I am lucky that the kids are old enough that they will be okay in those 10 seconds…. not like when they were toddlers and 10 seconds of silence meant mayhem was occurring in the other room.

    As I go through this post, I reflect on what the purpose is – what it is that I am trying to convey. Sometimes I feel like these topics are glorified brain-dumps. A string of consciousness tied together by a thin line. But the irony is that is probably the most reflective of a mom-brain. Twenty-five different tabs open and running simultaneously… but I digress. The truth is, that I am hoping to shed light on a stigma that has plagued us for far too long. The idea that our children are always full of rainbows and sunshine and that we shall love them and want to be around them every waking minute is fraught with mistruths. We can be great parents AND need space from our kids sometimes. These ideas are not mutually exclusive, even if we are led to believe that they are. Thinking so doesn’t make us bad parents – it makes us human.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • The Invisible Mother

    The Invisible Mother

    The other day, I was listening to a podcast about motherhood and mental health, and a discussion about the following quote by Glennon Doyle rocked me:

    “Mothers have martyred themselves in their children’s names since the beginning of time. We have lived as if she who disappears the most, loves the most. We have been conditioned to prove our love by slowly ceasing to exist.

    What a terrible burden for children to bear—to know that they are the reason their mother stopped living. What a terrible burden for our daughters to bear—to know that if they choose to become mothers, this will be their fate, too. Because if we show them that being a martyr is the highest form of love, that is what they will become. They will feel obligated to love as well as their mothers loved, after all. They will believe they have permission to live only as fully as their mothers allowed themselves to live.

    If we keep passing down the legacy of martyrdom to our daughters, with whom does it end? Which woman ever gets to live? And when does the death sentence begin? At the wedding altar? In the delivery room? Whose delivery room—our children’s or our own? When we call martyrdom love we teach our children that when love begins, life ends. This is why Jung suggested: There is no greater burden on a child than the unlived life of a parent.”

    Glennon Doyle “Untamed”

    What struck me more than the quote itself was how controversial it was. The podcaster and her two guests had differing opinions on it. One understood why people might have an issue with the quote. Another was saddened by the fact that it was controversial in the first place. After the podcast finished, I read it over and over, trying to make sense of it. What was it that stuck with me? Resonated with me so viscerally?

    This isn’t the first time I have spoken about women and the role of motherhood. The impossible task of trying to be everything for everyone. I should clarify before I go any further, that I fully both recognize and appreciate that many fathers feel this in their role, as well. I know that the feeling of martyrdom for the sake of our children is not strictly reserved for mothers. However, society has engineered a situation where mothers are the most at risk. The first part of the quote is the one that makes me the saddest. The idea that we are teaching that when “love begins, life ends” is one that is hard to grapple with. It isn’t to say that being a mother isn’t important, or that your life had changed for the better when it happens because that is true. But there is a societal expectation that the two cannot happen in unison. Somehow we have equated the level of sacrifice with the level of love. Somehow as a society, we feel that mothers who give up more of themselves are those who love their children more. If this is true, working mothers are at an immediate disadvantage by doing something that isn’t directly linked to their children.

    One thing is clear – how we live and make decisions most definitely rubs off on our children. Our actions show our daughters how they should (and shouldn’t) behave once they are mothers. It shows our sons what to expect of the mothers of their children. (Again, a caveat: I am talking on a visceral level about the roles of mothers, and am not meaning to disregard other forms of families). One thing I love to do with J is put together furniture. She has become quite adept at it, even putting together items on her own. If you ask her my thoughts on it, she will repeat my sentiments which are that society believes women need to ask men for help to do things like that, but she won’t need to ask anyone for help because she will be able to do things for herself. It brings me so much joy to hear her say that – to know that she can relish in her independence.

    As a society, we are getting better at telling women that they can do things on their own. That being a woman should not stifle her. Being a wife does not have to define her. And being a mother does not have to limit her. And yet, there continues to be an indignity associated with women who want more than just motherhood or want to also define themselves by their careers and/or passion projects. It is as though doing so will make them less of a mother.

    There is an unspoken shame that many women feel when they cannot be everything in every situation. You cannot give 100% to your children and 100% to your career simultaneously. It is physically, mentally, and mathematically impossible. And yet, I sit here wondering why do we not hear the term “working father”? Why is this definition solely reserved for women? Again, because women are set up to make impossible decisions. One that we have made to be synonymous with how much we love our children. One that is meant to pit our own self-identity against that of our identity that is tied into others – being a wife, being a mother, or being an employee.

    What is the most difficult about all of this, is how hard it is to change. We can begin to have these discussions for ourselves, but breaking down years and years of society’s norms and beliefs is much easier said than done. This is not an overnight turnaround. We are stuck on this hamster wheel… spinning and spinning….. The only solution is as far as I see it, is a long-term one where we teach our sons and daughters that they can do better. We teach our daughters to be defined by the roles THEY create, and not by one single event or experience. We need to do better for them.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • Embracing Your Inner Butterfly

    Embracing Your Inner Butterfly

    I haven’t written in a while – over a month now. It’s not for lack of trying or lack of wanting, but I have just felt distracted. There has been so much change around me lately that I have found it hard to focus. I don’t know about you, but for me, change is one of the most daunting ideas. I revel in the monotony of consistency. But here I am with this cliche revelation – change is HARD.

    “Growth is painful. Change is painful. But, nothing is as painful as staying stuck where you do not belong.”

    N.R. Narayana Murthy

    This past month, we moved. If you were to ask me before this, you would know that I never in a million years thought we would move. I think with my heart more than my head, and I am extremely sentimental. When I look at my old house, I see all our firsts – the first steps, the first meals, the first tooth lost… all of it. I never thought I could break away from that, or see myself living anywhere else.

    Like many, I want to say that I can embrace change. I want to let things roll off my back and go with the flow. Sadly, I have quickly learned that is not my forte. Change makes me anxious – not knowing what to expect or being able to control a certain situation breeds fear for me. A lot of times, I’ll admit, that the anxiety and fear come before I am actually IN the change. Psychologists have told me I tend to catastrophize situations and expect the worst before it has even happened. I think, though, that is mostly human nature.

    Those who know me, know that butterflies are my spirit animal. A butterfly on my shoulder blade was the first tattoo I designed, the first thing that was important enough to ink permanently on my body. Butterflies symbolize change and the metamorphosis that is possible when you give in to new experiences. The idea that a caterpillar goes to sleep and becomes a butterfly is nature’s way of telling us change can be beautiful. And yet, it doesn’t make it any less scary. Overthinking is a notoriously dangerous trait to possess. Do caterpillars know what is going to happen? Do they feel it in their core? I highly doubt caterpillars have existential crises or have to talk out their feelings about change. Or do they just know that it is something they have to do?

    Rational minds will say that change can truly be positive, with many benefits. Becoming more adaptive, flexible, progressive and on your toes. Learning, personal growth and new opportunities can all come from change. I try to live my days as the butterfly. Embracing change and seeing the beauty and the possibilities. I have realized that I am not very good at it, though. Just because something is good, doesn’t make it easy. I love my routine, and I love the security that comes with knowing that comes next. I can readily admit that to myself. It is easy to say that change is good when you look back from the other side. When you’re wading through it – not as much. I think the beginning comes with the realization that it isn’t easy. And maybe it’s not supposed to be. Maybe the beauty is in the journey more so than in the destination. Maybe, just maybe, it’s more about what happens in the cocoon, and less about emerging as the butterfly.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • I Am Slowly Going Crazy….

    I Am Slowly Going Crazy….

    I remember as a kid singing this Sharon, Lois, and Bram song over and over. At the time, this song about slowly going crazy and losing your mind was on repeat in my house. Not because I felt crazy but because it was fun to laugh about losing your mind. Oh, to be a child of the 80s again…

    Somewhere along the line, something switched. It wasn’t that I moved from counting forwards to backwards as the song goes, but more so that my mindset changed. As an adult in an environment where talking about mental health is more common, the idea of slowly going crazy has taken on a brand new meaning. I know there are times when we all feel like we’re a little crazy. The word itself is fraught with negative connotations. Being called crazy implies a lack of control, and an inability to regulate. And yet, there is this incredible juxtaposition happening. It has become more socially acceptable to talk about your feelings and inability to cope 100% of the time. More and more, we see campaigns, social media posts, and books all about self-care and the importance of mental health. I am grateful for the increasing openness around this topic. When we think of mental health struggles, we think less about a person chained in a psych ward and more about a regular human.

    I am here to continue the discussion and be as open and honest about my own struggles, in hopes that it opens the door for someone else. I have always been somewhat of an anxious person, striving for perfection academically. I don’t know whether I was able to manage it better when I was younger or the stressors were simply smaller, but it was never really an issue. It was just a way of life. As an adult, and more so as a mother, I felt my anxiety spin further out of control. Again, I felt that I was able to manage it. Maybe I was, or maybe I wasn’t. I will never know if it wasn’t as difficult for me or it was less socially acceptable to discuss. What I do know, is I was definitely not as aware of the importance of my mental health as I am now.

    The irony of all this, of course, is that my own undergraduate degree is in psychology. I loved learning about how the brain works in the university and in particular adored my abnormal psychology classes. At one time thinking I might pursue a career in school psychology, how the brain works fascinated me. How we deal with trauma, conflict, and aversion was my main focus in school. But there is there a reason they say doctors make the worst patients. Not to say that I am a doctor, but the analogy still rings true.

    I have a distinct memory of a few years back when I knew I was out of control. I can feel it like it was yesterday, although I couldn’t tell you the specific dates. I can close my eyes and I am back in that place. I had been experiencing panic attacks, and for the most part, I was able to keep it to myself. I knew that something wasn’t right but I tried to power through it. One day, I was driving and had a panic attack so severe I had to pull over. It scared me because it was the first time I felt truly out of control. I was by myself in the car but could only think about what might happen if I wasn’t. I sat in the parking lot as my hands and feet tingled from my shallow breathing and knew I needed help. I went to see my doctor the next day and a combination of medications and therapy ensued. Neither could work independently, they needed to work in tandem with one another.

    Today things are better but I am most certainly a work in progress. If I can take anything from this journey, it is that it is a marathon not a sprint… but all without a finish line. I have days where I feel incredibly in control. I feel like a superhero who can handle anything thrown at me. Other days, I feel triggered by the smallest thing. I can feel the tightness in my chest and the clenching of my fists.

    Having a support system, as cliche as it sounds, is integral. There is something very normalizing and reassuring about being open about your struggles. Our failsafe is to reject what we don’t understand or make us uncomfortable, or to humourize it. Even now I often refer to my medication as my “anti-crazy pills”. I know that isn’t what they are, but for some reason making light of the situation makes it feel more manageable.

    And this is what I have come to terms with – the new normal. It the normal that things don’t have to be perfect. The normal that mental health needs to take priority. The normal that needing help and asking for it doesn’t make you weak – it actually makes you stronger. And the normal that keeping things inside is as unhealthy as any other physical ailment.

    This is life. Love, mom.

  • Resolutions: The Promises We Love To Hate, And Hate To Keep

    Resolutions: The Promises We Love To Hate, And Hate To Keep

    Happy New Year! I cannot believe that another year has flown by. I know it is cliche to say, but it truly feels like we blinked and the year came to a close. I think it’s because we spent so much time inside, and crossing our fingers that things will improve. Cheers to making it through the past year, and getting ready for the one ahead. I have a lot coming down the pipes. A lot of change is happening this year, and I am looking forward to some amazing opportunities. I can’t wait to share as things unfold.

    A new year is synonymous with our resolve to do be and be better. We often talk about our resolutions to make this year the best one yet. Resolutions are a funny kind of magic. Every year, on January 1, we make a promise to ourselves to change something. Whatever it is, it is usually something we have been thinking about for quite some time. Resolutions aren’t decisions we make on a whim. They are the “thing” that we most want to change about our lives: get healthier, work less, find more balance, do yoga, travel… the bucket list goes on and on. These are the things we want to do but are being stopped from doing in some way, shape or form. Maybe the timing is wrong, maybe the motivation just isn’t there, or there are too many work commitments. There is always a reason why it can’t happen in July, October, or December.

    And then comes magical January 1st. The shiny date of eternal optimism. The promise of a new year and all the potential that it holds. We can do anything on January 1st! We can accomplish all our goals! Anything we set our minds to! We are SUPER PEOPLE! January 1st makes things easy – we can eat all the kale, do all the push-ups, and dream-board all the vacations.

    January 2nd, however… that is a whole other story. This is when our reality sets in, and we realize we are in it for the long haul. Those bright shiny goals and dreams begin to turn into work. We have to hold ourselves accountable to the goals we set just a day before. We cannot give up so soon.

    Now before you stop reading and think that this is the most pessimistic blog post ever, hear me out. Where you think this is going is not necessarily where we will end up. Which, ironically, is exactly what happens with resolutions. By designating a specific day for change, and hoping that we will maintain a new mindset for 365 days, we are setting ourselves up to fail. I’m not saying change isn’t possible, or that goal-setting isn’t important, because neither of those things is true. But don’t forget – the definition of insanity Is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. If, historically, we have trouble keeping our resolutions why do we set them every year? Why do we think that somehow THIS January 1st will be different?

    Instead, I propose a different mindset. Do you. Be you. Do what makes you happy. Endeavour to better yourself physically, mentally, socially, or academically. But don’t tie it to a magical date and expect to follow it for 12 months. Instead set short-term goals with attainable timelines. But don’t wait for the beginning of the year. Start any day! Strive to vision-board your long-term goals and do all the things. But don’t set a year-long timeline. Make them any length! Goals are meant to be ever-changing, evolving, and growing with us. We don’t need to put ourselves in the “new years resolution” box. By doing so, we set ourselves up to be disappointed. There is too much pressure tied into these resolutions, and we simply end up waiting until the following year to start again.

    So for the next 12 months, in a year that is already setting up to be a doozy, let’s take it day-by-day. Let’s set goals that are meaningful and attainable, and work towards them one day at a time. Let’s be kind to ourselves and give ourselves grace. Will I be doing this all the time? Absolutely not. Is this easier to type than follow through on? You’d better believe it. But I’m trying, just like everyone else.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • When Your Worst Fears Are Realized

    When Your Worst Fears Are Realized

    This post comes with a trigger warning. I am about to discuss when a child gets sick – every parent’s worst fear. I wish what I was writing was fiction, but it is our reality.

    The fall after my daughter turned two, she developed a crazy high fever. I remember she was hot and flushed, and we weren’t sure why. We couldn’t figure out what it was, and doctors threw out guesses like a virus, fifth’s disease and strep throat. She had countless tests that week and two walk-in visits. Tylenol and Advil weren’t helping but we kept at it for a few days. We waited and monitored and prayed that the fever would break. A few days in, she developed a rash on her hands and feet. Since her fever was so high, we thought it might have been a fever rash. I have a very distinct memory of sitting by the bath, looking at her feet, and being completely bewildered by it. By Friday, 5 days in, things hadn’t changed so we went back to the walk-in. By that point, her eyes had started getting very red. The doctor took one look at her and told us he was sending us to the emergency room. He said that he suspected Kawasaki disease but it needed to be confirmed by the hospital. At that time we were familiar with the disease because Hubby’s nephew experienced it a few years earlier (and made a full recovery), but we were still awestruck and shaking.

    The next week and a half were a whirlwind that I will never forget. We started at one hospital closer to our house, but quickly made the decision to drive downtown to Sick Kids Hospital. The drive down was a mix of panic and fear. I remember that it was dark outside and my first thought was that she was supposed to be in bed by then. When we go to the ER, she was almost immediately diagnosed with Kawasaki’s Disease – a very rare inflammation of the small blood vessels, characterized by a very high fever, and red palms, feet, tongue and eyes. The danger with the disease is that the vessels around the heart also become inflamed, which could lead to coronary failure, and if not treated immediately would be fatal. It must be treated in the first week to reduce these symptoms. Let me tell you – Dr. Google is NOT your friend in these times. While we were waiting to be admitted, we did our own research and read all about the countless children who were left untreated and died from coronary failure. This only fueled the anxiety and panic.

    Early in the morning on day 6, she began the treatment. The typical treatment is an infusion of IVIG (intravenous immunoglobulin) to help her body fight the infection. The typical course of treatment is half a day of infusion, followed by 24 hours fever-free. Unfortunately, she developed an allergic reaction to the infusion with her fever spiking, so they had to stop it less than an hour in. The secondary course was a synthetic IVIG alternative that works the same way but requires more than double the time to administer. We waited, patiently while she received the dose and prayed. Once it was administered, the clock began for our 24 hours fever-free. All seemed to be going well, until the 20th hour when her fever spiked higher than ever, right smack in the middle of the night. I won’t go into specifics but I will tell you that was the worst night of my 38 years of life. The second round of synthetic IVIG was ordered, and her fever began going down. Then, thankfully, she passed the 24-hour mark without fever. Then she passed her cardiac function tests. After a week in hospital, she was released to go home with an Asprin regimen and two very nervous parents.

    After her follow-up a year later, she was released from the hospital’s caseload and we finally felt like we could breathe again. We thank God every day that she does not have any lasting heart defects, as many children do. So many children die or suffer life-long issues as a result of this disease. We are forever grateful that neither of these is the case. Having a hospital like this in our backyard, especially one that has a dedicated Kawasaki’s clinic, was the greatest gift. I tell you all of this, so you can understand why Sick Kids Hospital means so much to me. So when I tell people that they saved her life, I am not being dramatic – it is the truth.

    As a teacher, working with Heart and Stroke on their Jump Rope for Heart campaign is incredibly important to me (hence the picture from a couple of years ago pre-Covid). But more than that, I do whatever I can to help Sick Kids Hospital, and encourage my kids to do the same. Toys, money, or gifts for the nurses in the cardiac ward – any way we can show our appreciation even seven years later. Because, for me, those seven years still feel like yesterday. In a blink of an eye, we are back there, holding her hand, crying together, and praying.

    This month I am participating in the Get Loud campaign for Sick Kids. They are looking to build a bigger hospital, to be able to help even more families. All September long, I am cycling, walking and lifting in honour of this campaign. If this post has struck a chord with you, I urge you to consider helping my campaign. Sick Kids Hospital is the ONLY organization I would ever ask for donations for.

    The donation link is here https://bndfr.com/QvYqY

    And in the meantime, I will continue to be thankful for the gift that we have received – the gift of life for our family and J. I pray that others in our situation have the same outcome. Hug your babies, everyone.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • Excuse Me While I Step Off My High Horse

    Excuse Me While I Step Off My High Horse

    When J was a baby, Hubby and I took a family trip to Florida. On our first night there, we went to a restaurant with my parents. After a few moments, a couple walked in with their three children. Each child was holding their own device and proceeded to play on them while they waited for their food. Hubby and I looked at each other and immediately agreed that we would never be like that. When we went out, our kids would sit and colour and we would have meaningful family conversations. I guess we neglected to agree that the children would then fly home on their unicorns. Even as I recount this story, I cringe at my combination of mom-judgement and starry-eyed optimism. As our children grew older, Hubby and I quickly realized we had a choice – allow our children to have technology and have some semblance of a quiet meal, or not go out as a family. We proudly chose the former, and laugh at how naive we were back in the day. The truth is, for us being out together as a family is way more important than giving our kids a little bit of screen time…. and I’m not sorry about it.

    When N was born, I grew much more confident in myself as a mother and had a better idea of what he needed, which was a stark comparison to the constant worry and fear of being a new parent with J. This newfound conviction became helpful when I took N for his one-year checkup. Our pediatrician (who we love and trust more than anything) was on her own maternity leave. So he was seen by another doctor. At the time, N was only babbling three incoherent words instead of the benchmark of five. I wasn’t concerned as J was a later talker, and N was on track to do the same. The doctor however was extremely concerned, stating that he wanted numerous follow-up appointments to check on N’s language. He even went as far as to say that I should withhold his milk until he said the word milk. Clearly, he was not a parent. I remember leaving the appointment and calling Hubby, telling him if I was a first-time parent I would have been through the roof with worry. However, as a second-time parent, I was less concerned. This is not to say that second, third, or fourth children don’t bring us worries. It just means that we are somewhat more confident in our decisions and care less about what others think about them.

    It turns out the judgiest people are two very different groups of people: those who don’t have kids and other moms. Non-parents are the ones who want to dole out unsolicited advice and judgement. The “when I have kids….” crowd love to talk about all the ways they are going to be a better parent. They have grandiose ideas about how children should be raised, and what they should eat, play, and say. I will be the first to admit that I was one of them. When I was pregnant I knew all the things I wanted to do with my kids, how I wanted to raise them, and things I wouldn’t let them do. How quickly that changed when I became a mother. As parents, if we aren’t careful we can fall down a very dark hole of self-doubt. The messages from media, our Facebook moms group, our social circle, social media, and the random lady in the mall are all talking in our head. The only way to avoid this is to be secure in our decisions, which is a near-impossible task.

    On the topic of mom’s groups, they are up there as being the worst offenders. Facebook groups that are meant to help moms support one another can quickly devolve into a group of judgemental, hate-mongering sociopaths. Anyone who is a part of these groups knows I am not exaggerating with this description. These moms, who hide behind their keyboards, love to shame other moms about their decisions and beliefs when they don’t jive with their own. These moms want to tear others down to feel better about themselves. I am certain it all stems from insecurity in some way, shape or form. These groups are not for the faint of heart, and definitely not for those who are insecure about their parenting. Why do we even join these groups? Maybe we are all gluttons for punishment or are just looking for the silver lining in people. There is a great Similac ad about how judgemental moms can be towards each other. I’m linking it here if you haven’t seen it, as it’s definitely worth a watch. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUbGHeZCxe4)

    We have all been there – where the little voice in our head judges other’s decisions. It’s human nature. We are constantly evaluating what others are doing, the choices they have made, and the expected outcomes. That’s part of how we decide what is going to work for us once we are in that same position. It is part of the learning process, as we can potentially see a decision through to the end before we need to make one for ourselves. But it is so easy to judge others in a negative light. I have done the same thing many times, and I’ll be the first to admit it. I think there is some level of comfort being on the judging side, as opposed to the judged. I would caution you though that we need to stop and ask ourselves if it is really serving its purpose – is it making us feel better? Chances are it isn’t.

    If I had $1 for every time I did something I said I’d never do as a parent or did something that other people said I shouldn’t do, I could have retired by now. Solids at four months, solids at six months, no screen time before two years, sleep-train, don’t sleep-train, let them cry, never let them cry, make sure you say this…. never say that…. don’t let them do this… make sure they do that…. The truth is that once you become a parent, you start to understand what works for you and what doesn’t. And let me tell you, it very rarely is what everyone else says you should do. I can admit now that parenting is completely different than what I thought it would be like. So I will get off my high horse and admit that I have judged others for their decisions, and I will never do it again.

    This is Life. Love, Mom.