How did I get here?
Reading my last substantive post, Linda wants to know how *did* I make it to this place I love now?
Well, mama, the answer is: gradually. In poverty. With much gnashing of teeth.
It took lots of little risks, each one easier with practice. First, I decided I was ready to be pregnant. Then, I couldn't bear to go back to work full-time after Lola was born, but they wouldn't take me back part-time for the position essentially created for me to begin with (bad for the dept. of course), so I quit the stressful bureaucrat job and just taught part-time. Giant risk, as I was making most of our money. Then, the semester ended and I ended my other little part-time job. Then Chris lost his new job. And our lease was about to expire. Everything fell apart, basically; everything that felt like the life other people lead, the life of the employed, two-income household in a trendy small city in between Chicago and the Twin Cities. Everything that gave us both status to everyone else. After deep discussion of our feelings and intuition, recognizing we both really wanted to move the second we discovered our new town (and not wait another year) ... we decided to move to the area we had just scouted, with no place to live, not much money, no jobs. Another risk. I had applied to go to grad school up in Eau Claire, but wasn't officially accepted until too late, and the advisor was out of office all summer and wouldn't/couldn't return my calls or email, and no one else could do her job. So I declined the spot in the ESL teaching program, my only real-world, rationalization for being here. Another risk. Then, in Menomonie, Chris wasn't able to get any decent employment, and I held it against him for a while. My old fears were ugly and projected on him. But we got through that and now I am way too happy here.
Each risk taken was easier than the last, and finally I'm not afraid of things I can't control (except maybe the dominionists, but that's an entirely different post). I feel that I have entirely created my life, piece by piece, with children, with obligation, with risk, with love. I have stepped off many cliffs, and each time realized I was already airborne.
Don't get me wrong - this writing life is not the one I imagined before children; I go days without being able to string together coherent thoughts. But it does return, as the baby gets older and I sleep more. But my life is my children's, right now anyway, and it's grand. We explore together, and I try to keep taking risks.
It helps that Chris is utterly amazing. And that we trust each other. He respects childrearing as a sacred responsibility, and never have I felt that he or I believe I "just" take care of the kids/house/whatever. My performance pressure to eat well and write and walk are all mine, not his. My expectations, not his. This is the lesson I am trying to internalize so my unschooling will be easier with our children - that no expectations from one who could judge (chris) has created in me the ability to do exactly what I *need* to be doing, exactly how I want to do it. This process is inherently trustworthy, as am I. As are we all.
Linda, thank you for asking. I've never made that connection before.
Well, mama, the answer is: gradually. In poverty. With much gnashing of teeth.
It took lots of little risks, each one easier with practice. First, I decided I was ready to be pregnant. Then, I couldn't bear to go back to work full-time after Lola was born, but they wouldn't take me back part-time for the position essentially created for me to begin with (bad for the dept. of course), so I quit the stressful bureaucrat job and just taught part-time. Giant risk, as I was making most of our money. Then, the semester ended and I ended my other little part-time job. Then Chris lost his new job. And our lease was about to expire. Everything fell apart, basically; everything that felt like the life other people lead, the life of the employed, two-income household in a trendy small city in between Chicago and the Twin Cities. Everything that gave us both status to everyone else. After deep discussion of our feelings and intuition, recognizing we both really wanted to move the second we discovered our new town (and not wait another year) ... we decided to move to the area we had just scouted, with no place to live, not much money, no jobs. Another risk. I had applied to go to grad school up in Eau Claire, but wasn't officially accepted until too late, and the advisor was out of office all summer and wouldn't/couldn't return my calls or email, and no one else could do her job. So I declined the spot in the ESL teaching program, my only real-world, rationalization for being here. Another risk. Then, in Menomonie, Chris wasn't able to get any decent employment, and I held it against him for a while. My old fears were ugly and projected on him. But we got through that and now I am way too happy here.
Each risk taken was easier than the last, and finally I'm not afraid of things I can't control (except maybe the dominionists, but that's an entirely different post). I feel that I have entirely created my life, piece by piece, with children, with obligation, with risk, with love. I have stepped off many cliffs, and each time realized I was already airborne.
Don't get me wrong - this writing life is not the one I imagined before children; I go days without being able to string together coherent thoughts. But it does return, as the baby gets older and I sleep more. But my life is my children's, right now anyway, and it's grand. We explore together, and I try to keep taking risks.
It helps that Chris is utterly amazing. And that we trust each other. He respects childrearing as a sacred responsibility, and never have I felt that he or I believe I "just" take care of the kids/house/whatever. My performance pressure to eat well and write and walk are all mine, not his. My expectations, not his. This is the lesson I am trying to internalize so my unschooling will be easier with our children - that no expectations from one who could judge (chris) has created in me the ability to do exactly what I *need* to be doing, exactly how I want to do it. This process is inherently trustworthy, as am I. As are we all.
Linda, thank you for asking. I've never made that connection before.
posted by Skim @ 8:41 PM
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