Here's my yoga body.
Here's its backside - in leggings!
Let's review some stats on this yoga body.
Oh, and despite doing yoga 6 days every week, being strong and toned, and being within its normal weight for its height and frame, this body isn't America's ideal for beauty - far from it. Using your body to grow and birth beautiful and big baby girls can cause some modifications. Here is all of the flattest, most awesome abs this yoga body has ever had.
Imagine the reaction if this body donned a bikini on the beach this summer at its pinnacle of health and physical fitness. Scandalous!
The truth is that this is the first time I have ever exposed my midriff in public in my whole life. I'm extremely modest. Also, the truth is that I have never worn these pants without an over-sized t-shirt in public. I hate feeling exposed. However, recently, I heard about a Montana legislator introducing a bill that would ban the wearing of yoga pants. I wear yoga pants in public all the time. Half my life, if it weren't for yoga pants, I wouldn't have any clothes to wear at all. I thought it had to be a joke. It wasn't. It was an indecent exposure proposition. I knew there wasn't any way it could possibly pass, so I thought not another thing of it. Until yesterday. Yesterday, one of the yoga teachers I follow on Facebook posted a link to an article titledThe Politics of Yoga Pants: Dignity, Spandex, and Dysmorphia - What a Load of Goods are Being Sold?. The article refers to the bill proposal briefly and then begins to discuss the issues of yoga as a corrupt, western, billion dollar industry, how it has morphed from its origination in India, and how yoga pants are causing self esteem problems in women. The yoga teacher who posted it called yoga pants - "yoga porn". For yoga clothing manufacturers specifically, it’s about cradling that cute ass in spandex. And it's not just legislators who are up in arms. Consumers are arguing right, left, and everywhere in between about our cultural love of exhibiting the back bump.
The author, Susan Stringfellow, goes on to discuss how the big business of yoga in the United States caters to women of a certain income and body type with well known companies like Lululemon not carrying plus sizes and hiding their size 10s and 12s in the back of the store. Then, Stringfellow goes on to write:
Keep in mind that the myth of Narcissus predates American culture, which proves that the conundrum of our self-amazement has been around since antiquity, probably before. Yet, what can be argued is that the fashion designs sold by the yoga clothes companies are playing on human vanities and insecurities. And, as Klein contends, these repetitive presentations of "health" and "beauty" are capable of warping our sense of realistic expectations about who we should be.
And, all this means that yoga pants are really something to get our panties in a wad over? Yoga pants objectify women's bodies? Tasteless advertising makes us fantasize about a body we'll never have and therefore we are pressured to wear yoga pants that don't fit or accentuate our perfect for us bodies?
I'm not buying it. I've seen people of all sizes and shapes wear yoga pants and leggings. I've seen them worn in all kinds of beautiful and bizarre ways. One thing I have never been is shocked by the body wearing them. I'm a mother, and I have to say that I'm not speaking for myself when I say that when we are out running errands, feeding chickens, or taking the little gals to dance class, yoga pants are the most comfortable attire. Even the Yoga Body Image Coalition highlighted by the article has people doing yoga in yoga pants with all body types on their website. I have seen an upsurge in more realistic advertising on yoga sites I frequent and have for several years. I also recall seeing an ad of a completely nude athletic woman and not thinking twice about it. What's the deal? I think reactions like this bring up great questions, but can tend toward the illogically radical like the Montana bill proposal to ban yoga pants. After reading this article, it was obvious what problems in American culture we should be addressing, and it isn't yoga pants. Yoga pants aren't causing a whole slue of people to feel poorly about their bodies. No, the problem is a huge one and multifaceted. We've went from one extreme to another in this country in terms of our display of the human form and sexuality and our ways of living and economy. Our cultural norms formed in a way that was heavily influenced by prudish Puritanism. Now, we are at the opposite end of the spectrum where every day from the time we are born we are inundated by hyper-sexualized images of the human body that aren't even representative of reality. Those of us who exist in the in between are confused and silent. The article also highlighted the conundrum of, Veronica Partridge, who vowed to not wear yoga pants or leggings in public again. Her husband honestly revealed to her that sometimes he couldn't help but to look at women when they wear yoga pants. I feel for her and her husband and the realities of this issue. I feel for women who have felt those less than respectful eyes on their bodies. The issue is not the woman's clothes. It is our culture's portrayal of the female form not as something to be admired for its beauty, but for something to lust for. There is a huge difference in admiring beauty and lusting. I can see someone and their beauty and enjoy looking at them without wanting to be with them sexually. In a culture where that cannot be separated, the problem is not in form fitting clothes enticing looks. The problem is in perversion. I would bet that in a culture where women regularly go topless don't have this issue in this same form. The other issue is with unethical corporations and mass consumerism. To discuss these topics would take more writing than I want to do here. My main concern in this is the issue of the female body image. I have three daughters who I hope to raise with confidence and respect for their bodies. I have a husband who is an artist and has drawn nude women from life. He also tattoos people of all walks of life five days a week. So, the issue of body image speaks to me profoundly. If we cannot look upon another person's body without making a value judgment or it producing lustful thoughts, the issue isn't theirs. It is ours. Yoga pants aren't shaming women. Our society is shaming women through airbrushed advertising, hyper-sexualizing, hiding tasteful representation of the human form, and all but forbidding self expression through means of dress, hairstyle, and body modification. Our society has a double standard. No issue with putting a 10 year old in booty shorts and bikinis in such a sexual climate, but takes issue with a fully covered body in yoga pants. Beauty, health, and fitness come in all shapes and sizes. I have spent my life learning to be separate from my body because of low self esteem. Yoga has connected me with this temple that is my body in wonderful ways. I'm not ashamed of it. That's why I can post these pictures in this context. My body was created to serve my essence in this life, and it is doing a fine job of it. Through yoga, I can worship Creator with my body while making it strong and healing it where the doctors cannot reach. If America has a bastardized form of yoga and yoga pants are nothing but yoga porn, that speaks to our priorities as Americans being VERY skewed. Nothing more. Wear those yoga pants. They're comfortable for crying out loud. Oh, and one last thing. I typically don't wear yoga pants to do yoga any way. Here's the head of that yoga body saying farewell for now. Yes, it's that serious.
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"The more quickly you empty your cup and open yourself to new ideas uncritically, the sooner you will see natural learning blossom." - Sandra Dodd, Deschooling for Parents Confluence Academy (the name of our little homeschool) has been going full speed since beginning lessons after Christmas break. Going into the break, I was feeling a major burn out and questioning how I was going to keep us on track the rest of the year. I know it was in part my being overwhelmed from depression and my health crisis, but a big part of it was playing teacher and placing myself under arbitrary rules. My big experiment in letting go has also included school, and because of it, we are accomplishing much more during our attendance days than we were. We have been attempting a Waldorf education for our girls off and on since we became parents. What Waldorf asks of us is so vastly different from anything I experienced while in school, and the lifestyle, if you are a purist, is far removed from the mainstream experience. The concepts that Waldorf expounds were anything but what I was asked to do while teaching public school and obtaining my Master's of Arts in Teaching. "Proper" Waldorf education in the home would mean that I would truly devote much of my life and time toward learning the philosophy, correct application of the concepts, and the activities of home life that support the education. Committing to this kind of study while in the middle of carrying out the principles ascribed, mothering, homemaking, and trying to work on the side, soon overwhelmed me and created a heart conflict. I didn't want to do all this studying. I wanted to use my free time for me time. Us mamas have so little me time. Yet, I wanted my girls to experience the beauty and the gentle guidance this method allows. "Stop thinking schoolishly. Stop acting teacherishly. Stop talking about learning as though it’s separate from life." —Sandra Dodd I've had to let go of the idea that we'd be a purist Waldorf home. There are many things we do that aren't in line with the stricter aspect of the philosophy. I'm a student though. I love being a student, and I'll do my work whether or not my heart is in it at all just to earn the A+ and say that I did it. As we all know, being a good student and learning are two totally different things. Being the student is all about performance, doing the work, and getting it right. It's a rewards based task. Learning is about understanding, taking a subject/topic in deep, and integrating it into one's repertoire. Learning is a life task. I was raised in a home of educators. My grandfather taught vocational school. My great grandmother taught English. My grandmother was a substitute and a secretary at the Board of Education. My dad began going to college to become a physical education teacher, but did not complete the degree. I earned my master's in teaching. You can imagine how our journey to homeschooling has been for me. I've been the "student" since I have memory. I have taken that attitude into my approach to homeschooling my daughters and have found for one of the few times in my life, it hasn't served me well. "Deschooling is not just the child recovering from school damage. It's also the parents exploring their own school and childhood damage and proactively changing their thinking until the paradigm shift happens." - Robyn Coburn These days, I'm working on deschooling me. I'm having to take it slow, because doing my "school" work is a way of life for me. Allowing myself to enjoy my free time while also keeping up with my responsibility to provide a well rounded education to my children, has been a weight off. I still study Waldorf methodology. I still participate in the support groups for my curriculum, and we are still right on track with our lessons. Nothing has slipped. The only change has been my expectations of what we are doing and my level of stress. I'm seeing the learning in every opportunity we take. Literally, how can you keep a child from learning? They are built to learn.
The education we are providing our girls is unique to our family. It meets our needs while expanding the world view of our girls, and supporting their choices for their individual life paths. It isn't a prescribed "Waldorf" education, but is very much inspired by the ideas. We are eclectic homeschoolers. I can relax and not follow exactly what the book lays out, but I can trust my instincts as a human being. I don't have to be a good student. I don't have to be a constant teacher. I just have to be a mother who supports learning. I can let go of my book work a little to allow the real learning and growth to begin. My daughters can know their mother and enjoy our lesson times - or at least be at ease in them most of the time. I am capable of my own accord to guide my children down the learning trail, and I can follow their lead. Let go, mama.
I'm depressed. I think that is the first time I have ever admitted publicly that I am truly depressed at the time that I am depressed. I've been prone to depression since I was a child. I can pinpoint the years of my life when depression ruled the day. Yet, as I have gotten older I have found myself dealing with it on a day to day basis far less. I thought for a good long while that I had beaten it. I thought that the most I'd feel were moments of sadness, frustration, or let down. I didn't think that depression would come again. Admitting that one is depressed can have so many negative repercussions to how one is perceived by their peers. While there are many difficult aspects to living with depression, people who are depressed should not be ruled out as productive, interesting, and lovable people. Assuming that someone who is depressed is ungrateful, lazy, selfish, dramatic, or emotionally stunted or overstimulated is like saying someone who has diabetes is also all of these things. There may be a personal component to having an illness like depression or diabetes that is often chronic, but science tells us that genetics also play a strong factor in our predisposition to developing it. There is no one to blame for depression. People who are depressed should not be counted out. Currently, I'm struggling with the compulsion I feel to do things "properly." It has taken over so many aspects of my life that I wake up every morning with an intense pressure to do things as prescribed by the text I'm reading, the mentor I have chosen, the philosophy of whatever group label I have dove into for support. I'm overwhelmed by all of these things I've told myself that I have to do to be successful that when there just isn't enough time in the day to research educational philosophy, I think about the laundry list of things to do in the day while I'm supposed to be focusing on God during meditation, or I fight the urge to let my toddler watch some TV so we can peacefully complete our school lessons, I feel incredibly guilty and as if all the effort I've put forth to do this mother and homemaker thing well has just been washed down the drain. The day is a loss. I've failed my children. I've failed my husband. I've ceased to matter in the larger scheme of things. I'm just a failing housewife. I know. It's irrational. I completely understand that and recognize it. Does that make a difference in battling these feelings? Mostly not. However, it is a starting point. The task before me is learning to let go of these labels, rules, and prescriptions and adopt what is truly a fit for me and my family. I have to learn that the effort is as important if not more so than the result. I have to stop the thoughts of failure. I have to accept that the me that God created, the joy I feel when allowing myself to just be who I am without apology, is enough for me and my family. It's so easy to feel the burden and guilt for not being content and happy. We are bombarded by the positive thinking movement (which I believe has much merit) saying that happiness is a choice. It makes it seem so simple to choose to be happy and content. They say begin by being grateful for what you have, as if someone who isn't happy is an ungrateful person not recognizing the many things they are blessed with every day. We can't simply make a list of what we are grateful for and suddenly expect to be happy or not depressed. Gratitude can be fully lived and recognized while in deep depression. Every day is a new day even when depressed. Often, while depressed, facing the day at all is something that makes you feel dread. When you measure yourself against your peers and their accomplishments, it is easy to feel like you aren't doing enough. Motherhood is a lonely place many times. I've written that before. I long to have a voice in things that matter to adults. Many of my feminist friends (and no I'm not saying that I'm not a feminist) would say that what I'm doing as a stay at home, homeschooling, wife and mother is a choice that I can un-choose. Probably, a lot of those who would say that aren't mothers yet or have chosen not to be. When another person's life and opportunities in that life become your responsibility, choices become infinitely more complicated. I could ask for the greater world to become more interested in mothers and all that we accomplish in a day, but in our culture of leisure,consumer values, and immense access to information about our world, domestic life is pretty boring. Raising children becomes something that isn't our "work", but the thing we do as we do our real work, or depending on arrangements, when we have completed our real work for the day. I know to some, I'm wasting my mind by not taking on some "meaningful" work. Does it sound like I resent that? Perhaps I do. Perhaps there's a hint of jealousy. Perhaps I just want to eat my cake. So, from this place in my life, I have a lot of hard work to do. I'm someone who believes I was born with all I need to be happy, content, and prosperous. I believe we are all important. We are born children of the Most High. We are wanted by God. Planned by God. That is no small thing. What that tells me is there is the possibility of Light. I first want to accept where I am, speak/write my experience, and then begin to adopt the practice of letting go and feeling my way rather than using unbalanced intellect and sacrificial willing to obtain the Ideal.
We stayed home and she nursed me all through the night. She let me sleep in her bed as she almost always did when I was sick. She wet wash cloths and kept them cool on my forehead. She told me stories and rubbed my back and feet. I'm sure she left the room, but if she did, it was when I was sleeping. This past week, my Mimi, who is now 80, had a T.I.A event. My mother quickly got her to the hospital and once assessed she was transferred to a larger hospital a little over an hour from our hometown. She spent the entire night confused, sometimes knowing us and sometimes not. I was home alone with the girls and before we knew whether or not she had actually had a stroke, I worried that I wouldn't be able to get to the hospital in time to talk with her during a time when she still knew us. That scared me. While she hasn't been in the best of health, she hasn't really been ill. I'm fortunate enough to still have all the grandparents that I have known and loved since I was born. That's a pretty big deal for a thirty-six year old. Yet, I know it can't last much longer. My grandparents have been such a huge part of my life, I'm not sure I'm ready to know what it is like not to have them a phone call away. We lived with Mimi from the time I was about six years old until I was about eleven or twelve. She cooked for us and I rode to school with her every morning. She worked at the county Board of Education as a secretary. I walked to her office every evening after school and played until she was ready to go home for the day. She tickle-rubbed my back and feet nearly every night to help me relax and go to sleep while she watched Dynasty, Falcon Crest, or Knots Landing. When I washed my hair in shaving cream before school, it was she that put it up in a mushroom bun to make the "wet look" look purposeful like a woman from a Robert Palmer video. I stayed with her a few days and one night at the hospital this week. The night I spent with her was hard. Her blood sugar went low and I didn't recognize it. The nurses didn't check it for several hours, so they didn't know either. She pulled and tugged at all the lines and cords attached to her. She, who always freezes, pulled her covers off. I'd explain to her why she had to have all the monitors. I'd put her oxygen back on. I'd curl up in the straight backed chair watching the same episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations three times wondering if this out of character behavior was a sign of something more. As a doula, I've attended births. I know what the thinning of the veil feels like. What it feels like when a soul is about to breathe air for the very first time. It's that electric feeling where you can act in a pinch of a moment as if you knew what to do before you had to do it. It felt that way that night. I've heard elder midwives and birth attendants say that the thinning of the veil feels the same at death as at birth. So, I worried. At least she knows it is me who is here, I thought. My Mimi is coming home tomorrow if all goes well tonight. She'll be at home for Christmas. She'll know us for Christmas. There will be some days, weeks, months, or years left. It still feels strange though, that somehow I am to that stage in life where the tide has turned. It will be my mother, me, and my siblings caring for her now. Mimi showed me what it meant to be fiercely independent. She was a single mother to my mom and her brothers for many years. She never dated anyone as long as I was aware, or if she did, it was not something to talk about. She had a career and was super good at it. She even seemed happy in her work. She made her own decisions and stood up for her family. She kind of did it all, and it was from my grandmothers that I learned that I was strong and capable. I don't know what is ahead for my family. Transitions are always bizarre and filled with the unknown. When she takes that final jump of this life, she won't be alone even if she is physically alone. Even if I'm not quite ready to step into the next pair of shoes, I will. I'll do it proudly, because that's what I saw her do. I know endings are just beginnings for everyone involved. It will be for her too. Every single prayer or well wish that has been sent to our family is appreciated. My Mimi thanks you too. We're just glad that she will be back home soon, where she belongs right now. The winter holidays have been my least favorite time of the year for as long as I can remember. As a child from a divorced home, the pressure of deciding where I'd spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day was crushing. Either my mother and her family or my dad and his family would be disappointed, or so I felt. Even the seemingly easy task of telling the adults what I wanted for Christmas was enough to make me feel burdened with responsibility beyond my years. It was no one's fault. It was the nature of the way we have chosen to celebrate these holidays coupled with the way the cards fell for my parents. I guess it really couldn't be helped.
There was one Christmas though that I have a small but poignant memory that has kept me believing that Christmas can be more than intense stress, dealing with massive overspending and how it comes into my home, and sadness. I was maybe five years old. My parents were still married, but as all memories of this time when they were both occupying our little trailer, it was more as if they were shadows than real people and I was nearly alone to be as I would be. Our Christmas tree was up and lit. I still believed in Santa Claus and, this Christmas, I'd see him. I grabbed my pillow and a quilt off of my bed, my dad tucked me in, and I resolved to stay awake, camped under our tree all night. I remember how the tree smelled of warm plastic and how the colored lights shot tiny beams like stars when I got sleepy. I laid there thinking of how Santa must love me, and to meet him would be magic. Just magic. I didn't care what I got for Christmas. I've never been someone who wanted much in the way of stuff. My wishlist is pretty simple. I just cared that I saw this man, this grandpa, and felt his magic. I woke up the next morning with the gray of a winter's light seeping in through the little window in our trailer's back door. I hadn't met Santa. Sleep was too precious a thing. There all around where I had slept were our Santa presents. He had been there working all around me as I slept, being careful that I didn't hear and stir. It's that achingly sentimental memory that motivated what I wanted Christmas to be for my children when I became a mother. The focus on the material that made me so nervous that my stomach would be sick, the rush to be everywhere and buy the best present would be secondary to acknowledging the magic of the time and what variety of beauty that can be celebrated as Christmas. Traditions are hard to amend though. American Christmas has become barely more than a frenzy of excess and disappointment as it never quite plays out the way you had it pictured and resembles little of the Christian and Yuletide traditions that inspired the holiday at all. As much as I wanted something different for my girls, it has too often been much of the same. Phone calls and endless conversations about what my girls want for Christmas. Me feeling like that little overwhelmed child who just wants people to smile and not feel slighted or out done. The girls get so much from family that my husband and I can't even begin to compete with quantity nor do we want to try, so I focus on quality and substance. Our little family trying to fit in visits over a period of a few days. Returning home with a car load of gifts and no place to put many of them. Experiences and conversations a blur. Exhaustion. Irritability, and weeks of recovery. Christmases prior I tried to make change. I asked that certain toys not be bought. We've worked out a schedule of visits and stuck to it every year. We don't celebrate our own Christmas until we can be relaxed at home, even if that means that Santa visits us and the grandparents. At our home celebration we rest in the spiritual reasons for Christmas and Yule and read the stories. I've learned that I still would love to be home and have grandparents come and see us sometimes, but I know that isn't the season of our lives. I now know that it doesn't matter if you have preferences for gifts, children will get what the giver wants them to have. And, Christmas often equals hard feelings and stress as much as we try to stave it off. This year, while I know I can't take it all away, I can make a conscious effort at affecting what I can. There are several things I'm doing this year to make the season one that brings a little more rest for me than discomfort. 1. I'm giving up scrolling my newsfeed in Facebook or making posts about my day for the entire length of Advent. I know giving up something is associated with Lent, but I'm striving to live an authentic life these days. I'm not making myself unseen and unheard in my Truth any longer. I'm living boldly in order to fully express the me that God made. What does that have to do with a Facebook newsfeed? In my feed on any given day, I am faced with racism, ugly politics, hate, bigotry, violence, and horror stories about suffering inflicted upon women and families by institutions and scared people. I'm triggered emotionally by what I see and it affects my well being and my ability to process the news on my own terms. It creates for me the sensation of fight or flight without anything to direct it toward. I see these posts from those I know or have known, and to be honest, it is heartbreaking. Being in that space can make it so easy to be paranoid and lose hope. I can refrain, clear my head, and return when ready. This season is for celebrating and acknowledging Truth, and I will accept nothing short of it. 2. I'm being honest about what happens to toys and excess material goods in our home. We donate them. All of us do it. We just took two boxes of toys to Goodwill in order to clear out what isn't used. Our cabin is teeny and I want it to be as beautiful and comfortable as possible. Lots of things clog up the energy. It is a work in progress. My girls have very honed interests. While something might be appealing to them for awhile in newness, they fully recognize what they truly hold as valuable. "For you may palm upon us new for old: All, as they say, that glitters, is not gold." -John Dryden 3. I'm volunteering to take on some cooking. I've always wanted to, and I love to cook. I love to watch people eat my food. So, my mother in law has asked that I help and I am so happy to! 4. I'm taking time for mindfulness and being right here - right now. My spiritual walk takes precedence over all extraneous things during this season of kindling the light within. It's not just a metaphor. It's action to take. I have goals. 5. I'm continuing the traditions that we've made as a nuclear family that bring home the purpose of this holiday for me and my family. For us, it is a time to celebrate a man who came to light the path and share with us the tools of salvation. Jesus was a spiritual hero - The Redeemer. All the pieces of Christmas are supporting roles to this beautiful piece of the spiritual puzzle... this includes Ole St. Nick. As an adult, we can control what we do with our experiences in order to adjust the impact we feel from them. The question is always, how can we use what we know to express Truth, experience Truth tangibly, share Truth, and light the path of Truth for others? This question if taken on in a meaningful way can make massive difference in even the most difficult of times or challenges. There is always something there for us to claim or reclaim in Truth. Christmas is a season of warmth, love, reflection and togetherness. Any appearance that does not reflect that does not have to remain. It is inevitable that by writing this piece I'll tick someone off, or incite them to explain their position as to why they don't believe homeschooling is a responsible choice. It is also very probable in just mentioning that I homeschool and have done so since my oldest began her educational journey, that someone will say to me that they wish they could do that or could've done that, or that they commend me for doing it because there is no way on earth they would want to manage that. Thank God for public school - right!? We should all be thankful for that option.
I'm working on an article about making the choice to homeschool in southeastern Kentucky where the public schools are losing enrollments by the thousands. It has made me once again deeply look at my choice to go that route. It has the potential to be controversial. Simply going to the grocery store with a few school aged kids during school hours can be enough to get some stares. I'm writing this anyway. In my experience, what I'm about to reveal about our day to day is the truth of choosing to homeschool. It's important that we aren't kept in the dark about our individual experiences with choosing the education that is right for our families. I'm a former public school teacher. I taught in a rural farming community in north central Kentucky for four years before having a child of my own. It was an amazing experience. I earned a Master's Degree in Teaching during that time period. I also made some friends who I still communicate with today mostly through social media. Despite the hard work and about $30,000 in loans to go toward graduate education, I could not make the choice to remain in public education after having children of my own. One of the hardest things I have ever done is to reveal to my principal, whom I liked very much, that I wouldn't be returning the following year after my daughter's birth. The decision to not put my children in public education was one I had made long before becoming a mother. My husband was always in full agreement. That decision is one in which I was extremely confident, maybe more so than any other decision in my life. Having my oldest now in 3rd grade/4th grade, I'm still very solidly there. Though, from time to time, my husband may hear me whisper, "I should just send them to school." In return, he looks at me cross-ways. While living in the city of Louisville, we had the excellent opportunity to attend the Parent/Child classes at the Waldorf School. We would often talk of how to afford the tuition for one child, let alone if there were more. I had been the breadwinner up to that point while my husband finished graduate school. He was then completing a tattoo apprenticeship and we were living off of fumes. The next choice was to home educate, and when we moved back to the coalfields, away from the option of Waldorf schooling, that was the only choice for us. If you aren't familiar with the Waldorf educational philosophy, I will sum it up in two words - soulfully beautiful. I cried real tears when we toured the campus of the Waldorf School of Louisville for the first time. Hoping to recreate this in my home, I dove head first into the ideal. My daughter (then, the only one) would not eat many sweets. She would not have plastic, meaningless toys. She would be surrounded in clean, simple beauty. She would not be exposed to media through television or video games. And, I'd be a Waldorf purist. We did OK for the first few years of her life. Having a second child and moving close to family, where there wasn't a Waldorf community and more influences outside our nuclear family were upon us, things changed a little. I grew as a mother. I opened more to the possibility of my own family culture. One still very based in Waldorf philosophy, but one that worked for our lifestyle. We had a lovely preschool experience. Then, it became time to introduce "real" schoolwork. I also got a longing to add some outside work to my schedule and earn a little extra green. I wanted to maintain my daughters' sense of wonder. I wanted them to be excited by learning and to enjoy "school time". There was so much that I knew we'd be safe from. Yet, when I became intimidated by actually carrying out a Waldorf grades method and switched to the Charlotte Mason method, the first step in my realization of what homeschooling meant was revealed. This was going to be one of the hardest things I had ever done in my life. Could I maintain this choice, and still be a person? I was so glad to be fully responsible for their education. I believe it is my right and duty as their mother to hold no one else responsible for it but my husband and I. But, this meant I had to give it my all and do it well all the time. The overarching theme of my life was going to be mother, teacher, and wife. The dreams I had of exploring careers would be on hold. My time to have a hobby - reduced. I'd need to learn to be consistent, less spontaneous, and well planned. It is incredibly hard to maintain a household, tend younger children, and make sure that the school aged children (who are in two different grades) complete their lessons. We are still in elementary grades, so home educating them is very hands on. I still experience frustrated students. They still cry when they get confused during math. I still lose my cool and have to regroup, or just chalk my day up to a loss and vow to try my best come morning. Sometimes, I feel like a failure for weeks on end because there isn't time to clean the cabin the way I'd like. I'm too tired to call my grandmother whom I haven't seen in a year. I can't figure out why my wee one begins to tantrum right when I sit down for the lesson story with my middle daughter. I long for meaningful, adult conversations and to be able to spend whole days writing again. People say that they wish they had the money to be able to stay home and homeschool. It isn't about having the money to do it. There are ways to make it work. Most homeschooling families I know work with a very limited budget. Mothers or fathers work long hours to try to make up for income lost by one or the other being at home. Or, the stay at home parent will work late shifts, or find work from home jobs that they tend to at night. We learn to live frugally. Many of us live in a way unfamiliar, but respectful of time and energy. We go without things like cable TV, data plans, vacations, multiple vehicles, new clothes, tons of presents at Christmas, and the newest electronics. Not saying this is better or awesome, but it is what we are willing to do in order to provide this education to our children. At the time we made the choice to homeschool, we gave up 75% of our income in order for me to stay home with our daughter. We made it work. If you believe in something and want it bad enough, you will make it work. There are those moments when I know that what I'm doing is working. When I hear my toddler singing the Circle Time songs loud and clear. How she giggles at the motions. When my older two daughters run to greet their daddy and grab their main lesson books to show him what they did, proudly. The days when I see their deep thinking reflected in their play or their questions to me. How when they complete something difficult, all the whining becomes meaningless, and they say, "I think I really like doing..." And, sometimes, one of them will say, "I love homeschool." That's how I know it is working. Last year, I jumped back in to committing to a Waldorf education for my daughters. It takes tons of commitment, planning, and willingness to let go. I found a homeschool Walorf curriculum that works really well for us (Waldorf Essentials), and the authors offer a support service and program called Thinking, Feeling, Willing that has helped me stay on track through all the ups and downs of the school year. I'm incredibly blessed by this program. We have joined a wonderful homeschool co-op that keeps me in tune with other local homeschool families, offers field trips, special classes, and time with peers. Even when I wake up feeling like I don't want to do lessons that day, I know I have support. I know that I can manage. Our Waldorf inspired homeschool doesn't look like private Waldorf education, and every other Waldorf inspired homeschool will be different from ours. My girls watch some TV (commercial free), they have some commercial toys like My Little Pony, and they love to overindulge in sweets at their grandparents' houses. Shoot, mommy will even let them have a Sprite with their fries and burger from time to time. Sometimes (no, honestly, quite a bit), I wake up in a panic thinking that all of our little issues would be solved if I became purist once again. Then, I realize that if I let go just a little more, the issues wouldn't seem so huge. The truth about homeschooling is that it is a choice that requires immense time, dedication, willingness to always be a learner yourself, to research and find the answers on your own, presence, and a strong will to see your family through the times that are tough. All sorts of families make the decision to homeschool for many different reasons. You can easily get the impression that we are all religious zealots, super strict, or our homeschools are picturesque. Even in my rural area, if you polled our homeschool co-op, you'd find that there is as much variety there as anywhere and we all get along. There is so much more I could say about homeschooling, making the decision, getting support, and the reasons why I made the choice. I've written this for those considering, in the midst and wondering if they are "doing it right", those who feel they cannot do it but want to, and those who feel we are doing a disservice to our communities. Don't underestimate us. There's a lot of fantasies around homeschooling. The truth is far richer. I've had chronic migraines since I was thirteen years old. The only times I haven't had consistent headaches were during pregnancy. Since giving birth the third time, my headaches have become so bad and often that there have been days when I felt that not being conscious would be better than experiencing another second of pain. I've been brought to my knees by these suckers screaming, "God! Help me!" I'm in the process of getting medical help for my headaches and have been to a few different doctors in connection to them. I've only treated them with medication one other time while I was in college. At this point, if I cannot rely on medication or some other remedy (I've tried many) to make them less frequent and more tolerable (dare I hope for them to be eliminated), I will be devastated. The migraines exacerbate some other health and emotional issues that I have and it has created a feeling of being broken.
I turned 36 last month, and I have been confronted with the fact that I'm "older" on many occasions, including trips to the doctor. I've never considered myself "older". The word "old" doesn't even register to me until 70 - maybe. I don't mind the passing of years, and I am so happy to be an adult. You couldn't pay me to be a kid again. Yet, I'm frustrated that at a time in my life when things are comfortable and I am secure in so many areas, that I feel so physically and in turn emotionally down. Once I get over the fact that a situation has occurred, I am generally very proactive about changing or improving it if it doesn't suit me. I've been doing so much to create health and well being in my life. I eat a diet of whole and properly prepared foods per the recommendations of the Weston A. Price Foundation. I have a daily yoga and meditation practice. I take walks. I'm at a very healthy weight. I'm physically strong. I strive to stay spiritually connected. I don't jump to easy fixes when lifestyle adjustments would produce healing derived from within my own body. In fact, I'm a little obsessive about healthful living. I work hard at it. Because of my effort, I am often embarrassed or incredibly sad on the days when I feel so sluggish, depressed, or when a migraine has been triggered and I lose a whole day of productivity or forbid I need someone to help me get through the day. I get angry when the pre-headache feelings create within me a mood of less patience and irritability. Having a chronic issue like this isn't something I have invited to stay, or something I want to allow me exceptions to living a full life. I want it GONE. Now! I'm a homeschooling mother of three under age 10. I'm a wife. I'm a writer and spiritual counselor. I'm busy, and striving to be at my best - the way Creator intended me to be. At age 33, which I referred to as my Jesus year, I gave birth for the third time in an experience that was incredibly profound and blessed. Jesus was the man in the red cape that year. A constant reminder that I am loved, supported, and that my highest good was being written as much as I wanted to seek it out. If age 33 was my Jesus year, then almost three years later, it is time for a Resurrection. A rebirth. Creator saw Jesus through his physical torment and blessed him with Divine life. I still believe I'm loved, supported, and that my highest good is being written right at this moment. I believe in purpose - Divine purpose - and a Love that surpasses all turmoil. I know there is a plan for this. A reason. I'm tired though. Really tired. And on the days when it feels as if my brain is pressing against my skull with a force that will explode it all into a mush and 1,000 little pieces, I have a hard time reminding myself that there is something more to this issue than pain. I don't want to be embarrassed at needing to spend the day on the couch, or worried that I'm appearing slothful or weird because I can't function normally through the pain. Pain is very misunderstood in our culture. I am also finished with trying to muscle through or pretend the pain isn't there in order to not be a Debbie downer. I have important work to do. I'm not a pill popper and I refuse to go that direction in terms of medication as a band-aid. Where do I find the willpower to keep at this until I find the answers and life in there? I don't know where this path leads. I think of everything in life in a journey metaphor. A walk through the woods. I don't know where this path leads, but I'm going to chronicle the steps. I'm going to be resurrected and able to feel bliss again. Qualifying and Judgement Among Women Around Birth: Why it is Time for Me to Change My Path10/14/2014 By now, most people who have been acquainted with me either in person or on social media know that I have personally experienced a traumatic childbirth. I'm sure many of them wish I'd just shut up about it already. It was my first personal birth experience. In a very large part due to that experience, for the last six years, I've been a birth professional. I've pursued and achieved credentials from various organizations, professionals, and institutions. I've walked the walk and talked the talk of empowering women with education. Helping women in this glorious time of their life has been some of the most enjoyable moments of my life. Yet, it is time for me to step away from the model of childbirth educator and doula that I have been following.
Over the years, I have gone through many stages of healing my own trauma and coming to a place where I can use what I experienced in a productive and positive way. It has taken a lot of hard work, and will take more. Upon taking the work of a birth professional, I have made it a point to read op-ed pieces, studies, and news reports pertaining to pregnancy and childbirth. I've kept up with advocacy organizations and their various approaches to making the birth climate in the US more friendly to women and mothers. Honestly, it has been utterly exhausting on the emotional and physical levels. From all of this reading, interacting, seeking, and doing, I have learned quite a bit about how women communicate with one another. In the most general sense, I have discovered some really troubling trends, especially related to how we discuss the topic of childbirth and share our stories and information. I can no longer surround myself with the qualifying, judgment, and blame that I see coming from women on every side of the discussion of childbirth and empowered women. I'm seeing too many women hurt by mindless comments, too much hypocrisy, and too many speaking from a place of hurt either knowingly or unknowingly without the access to resources that they need to process this hurt. I know that in order to make real change in regards to how we become mothers, there must be change in how we are initiated into and experience womanhood. A woman who has not tasted empowered womanhood will not suddenly become an empowered mother upon becoming pregnant. This issue goes so much deeper than the choices we make or do not make during the pregnancy and birth experience. It is woven into our lives as women. Advocates for access to childbirth options are making grave mistakes in how they are communicating with the women they are hoping to reach. Some are so zealous with their beliefs on how women should birth, that their whole campaign is based on assumptions about women and mothers - assumptions that equate their personal beliefs with the "right" way to birth. Under this guise they speak of empowerment, yet many mothers cannot be heard or acknowledged for fear or attempted avoidance of being judged for their choices or the way they gave birth or chose to give birth qualified against this "ideal" in one way or another. Women are hiding. The truth is every childbirth option is a valid one. Each and every woman is faced with unique circumstances and history as she prepares to birth. Every birthing option has the potential to carry great beauty and satisfaction to a mother. The key is empowered decision making and unconditional, respectful support. Two pieces written over the last two weeks hit it home with me, that even the movement that hopes to change this less than optimal environment for mothers and babies is broken. The first was an article written for Time by Mehera Bonner titled "Why Having an Epidural Should Count as Having a Natural Birth". Bonner states, "By classifying Cesarean and medicated vaginal births as unnatural, mothers who prioritize natural delivery are potentially put in a position of feeling inferior if their birth plan is unexpectedly thrown out the window. An unplanned emergency C-section is stressful enough without worrying that your birth experience was somehow less legitimate and authentic than you’d hoped." In various birth circles on Facebook, I read comment after comment from birth professionals pointing out a few minor flaws in the piece that really doesn't retract from the overall point. What is the threat of this mother asking for validation and acknowledgement for what she was able to accomplish and the work that she did to get herself there? Next, came "An Unnatural Birth: In Praise of the Cesarean Section" written for Jezebel by Laura June. This piece hit me in the gut as I hear and read it so much in mothering circles. June writes, "It took me months to come up with a better, more accurate, and more honest response to the, "I'm sorry to hear about your C-section" comment, but I've got it down now, and I need to, because I hear this fairly often. It is always, always, delivered with genuine caring and disappointment on behalf of my subpar birthing story. Like my well-worn "My face just looks like this" response to "You look like you're having a bad day!" or "Why aren't you smiling?" comments, my response to the C-section question can come off cutting, even rude—even though I don't intend it that way, not really. "Actually, it was fantastic," I say now. "I slept well the night before, checked into the hospital, she was born healthy in about fifteen minutes, and I healed up in a few days." It's all true: it was a wonderful experience. But it's not what a lot of people expect (or maybe want) to hear about a C-section birth." Why offer condolences for someone who isn't asking for them? Who am I or anyone else to feel pity for a mother who simply states that she gave birth via cesarean. A cesarean is not an automatic bummer. Trauma is created either by the circumstances leading to the cesarean, how one is treated by those who should be guarding their safety, deep fear, or tragedy. I've seen several cesareans that were wonderfully satisfying and family oriented. There are "natural" births that are also extremely traumatizing. Do we qualify these mothers by saying that somehow their birthing choice was less than? Can you imagine having to withhold plans, not connect with other mothers around birth, or not sharing your birth story because of this qualification and judgment? I can. I will share my story far and wide, but how it is received or if it is heard is always a hit or miss. In fact, I think I make many uncomfortable when I share it. Laura June writes many statements in her piece that qualify my birthing experience as well. That, if I open myself to it, though I have a feeling it wasn't at all her intention, can make me feel judged, unheard, and ashamed. For example, "Every birthing experience where the end result is a healthy mother and healthy baby is equally awesome." The end result of my birth experience was considered a healthy mother and healthy baby. There was no part of that trauma that was awesome. The only awesome things about it was the miracle of life, hearing my daughter cry the first time, and seeing her gorgeous face. Blanket statements like that negates the feelings of many mothers who have experienced birth as trauma and can result in feelings of guilt and wrongdoing. June says, "If, like me, you don't get to decide, don't feel bad. It really doesn't matter, you will likely remember the day as one of the best of your life, and your baby will be amazing." Some of us could only wish that our having no say in the matter of how we birth could have left us feeling amazing. Tit for tat. I cannot any longer participate in advocacy for mothers in the same ways I have been doing. For my sake and the sake of my family, I must change things up. The bitterness, pain, backbiting, and unthinking from woman to woman cannot be allowed to go on. I'm calling it out right now, and dare to say we have all been guilty. Empowered womanhood does not project these insecurities. It honors women for educated decision making, provides opportunities for growth and exploration, and supports women right where they are. From now on, that is my path. For my three daughters who may or may not ever be mothers, I recognize that womanhood is not a competition of degrees. It is Divine. When I became a mother for the first time, I was initiated very quickly into how difficult parenting can be. I had no idea prior to experiencing it firsthand. Now, having three children and working with mothers regularly, I can definitely say that it hasn't gotten easier. I believe that most parents would say the work of parenting is exhausting and emotionally draining. Yes, I said it. Parenting is not all laughter and sunshine. Admitting this seems to be very taboo in our culture, and parents who do admit it or ask for help can be made to feel guilty for feeling the heaviness of the calling of parenthood even by the most well meaning of people. As a new mother and multiple times since, I have been given the phrase "this too shall pass" or some form thereof when reaching out for advice or solutions to real parenting issues. I have come to notice as a birth professional that many parents are also being given this phrase when reaching out on parenting forums, Facebook, or even in person. I have to confess. I, too, have said this to many mothers and fathers. However, as of today, I vow to not use this phrase any longer. I also will not remind parents that this stage is but a moment in their life and one day they may wish they had it back. Why? I no longer believe it is appropriate. As well meaning as we might be when we offer this "consolation", in reality I think it is a cop-out for offering real commiseration, advice, or tangible help to parents who have braved the possibility of ridicule and embarrassment to publicly ask their community for assistance in this sacred calling. It is in a very real way another way of saying that right now - the feelings, the worry, the tiredness, the confusion - is not important, but trivial. That the immediacy and the ache of right now doesn't matter as much as the fact that it will pass. If they can just hang on, this stage will be over. Add to that the caveat that this parent may wish themselves back to this place as an older person, and you are inadvertently placing guilt upon the shoulders of a mother or father who is asking for support, help, or solutions. This guilt can grow into the fear of seeking out the experience or time of others in their parenting journey because somehow it means that they couldn't "let go" or "hang in there". Somehow, they have failed at that which others have come through as a rite of passage. I have come to believe that this response is actually a failure to those who are in the throes of parenthood, who have done exactly what they should have done in seeking our awareness of the state they are experiencing. Parenting in our culture has become increasingly isolating. With nuclear families and very insular ways of being, we have lost the communities of loving related or close adults that were once involved in the raising of children. Here in Appalachia many of us grew up running the "hollers" all day long with siblings, cousins, and close family friends as each household of adults watched out for our well being. In a time, not so very long ago, we resided in multi-generational households where those retired and more experienced folks could lend a hand in child rearing. Now, parents are largely expected to go it alone as we have spread out and lost touch. Mothers and fathers hold down jobs, keep their home repaired and cleaned, and raise children with not enough hours in the day. So many of them are giving from empty wells without the opportunity for the self care necessary to offer their very best at parenting or their work. This is failing our children. It is failing our society.
So, what can we do instead of offering the "hang in there" we have all offered to parents in all forms of distress.
I challenge everyone of us to no longer use the phrase "this too shall pass" in the context of sharing it with a parent who is hoping for tangible help. Instead, reach out with something that you can do to show them that you appreciate their effort in parenting the next generation. Acknowledge their effort, and congratulate their accomplishments. For more information on what modern parenting can be like for many see - The Trauma of Parenthood by Eli J. Finkel in the NYTimes. |
AuthorKelli Hansel Haywood is the mother of three daughters living in the mountains of southeastern Kentucky. She is a writer, weightlifter, yoga and movement instructor, chakra reader, and Reiki practitioner. Categories
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