Working on my edges....

Disclaimer: this piece has not been edited. It's long, with enough dangling participles to make any English teacher weep, but hey, it's from the heart. Fair and square. Consider this your warning.

I woke up this morning feeling shitty, for no good reason. My husband was downstairs with all the kids, giving me a rare opportunity to sleep in. I don't think I've slept for longer than three hours straight for the past seven months. But guess what? Instead of enjoying the gift of silence and extra sleep, my ungrateful little self woke with a start, looked and the time and thought, "Shit! I can't believe I slept this long. I'll never get through my list of things to do today." You see, I had big plans for today. HUGE. They involved a full-scale assault on the clutter in our home, in my feeble attempt to start the new year...well, what's the word for it...clean. Pure. And then, somewhere in the panic it dawned on me. This here needs to be my lesson for what I need to change in the new year. Screw a clean house.

Sadly, I'm wired this way. I don't know how to be gentle on myself. Shy of going on an epic bender in an attempt to unravel my DNA strand and wake with a newly tuned double-helix, I sometimes feel at a complete loss. My focus always gets interrupted. I'm doing my best to be a wife, a mother, a friend, a sister, a daughter, a career woman, a writer and sometimes all I'm left with are feelings of frustration, sadness, anger, inadequacy, melancholy - all culminating in a storm of feeling completely undeserving of those who love me unconditionally.  In my quest to be everything to everyone, I'm left feeling nothing...aside from the feeling that I'm not getting enough done. That little chestnut refuses to dispose of itself.

I think this is why I hate yoga. Loathe it. Holding those positions for an eternity without feeling like I'm getting anything done. And I told my yoga instructor this. "Why is this pose called Happy Baby?" I yelled, "Angry f*cking pirate would be much more suitable." You know what she told me? She told me that's the point. I feel this way because I'm working out some edges. And maybe mine is that I have no patience with myself, and that I get angry when I feel like nothing's getting done (ouch). She went on to say that yoga is not about getting comfortable in a position and holding it there, faking the pose; that's apparently called cheating. It's about finding the pain, just enough of it, to feel the edge, holding that edge, working through that edge, and breaking through to the other side. Being better because of it. Yoga being the backdrop, I believe she was talking about life.

This is the first time something in yoga has made any sense to me. Working on the edges. And friends, do I have edges. This is difficult to admit, but in the past few years, life has beaten me down a little. Without getting into details, I feel hard. Harder than usual. (And sadly, this is by no means a reference to my ass, or any other body part with muscle underneath.) My spirit feels diminished...my light not burning quite as brightly as it used to.

I used to laugh...a lot. I still do, but not enough for my liking. In the past, people have told me that if I ever want to be taken seriously, then I had better stop fooling around. What about the hazards of taking yourself so seriously that you forget how to laugh? I’m not sure who ever decided that you can’t be intelligent and have a sense of humour; rather, I think it’s pretty hard to have one without the other. For those people who are bothered by my humour, I extend a hearty invitation to stay clear of me (that, among other things...). 'Cause I'm back, baby. I'm going to start loving me for who I am, not loathing myself for who I'm not.

In my 37 years on this planet, I've learned you’ll have days when you feel on top on the world, and others where you want to mutter, "F*ck this. I’m going back to bed.” And that’s alright – knowing it may not be your day of crowning glory, just pin on your participant ribbon and head out for the day. If that's your best for the day, then hell, wear it proudly. I think perhaps Margery Williams penned it best when she wrote The Velveteen Rabbit back in 1922. In case you aren’t familiar with this childhood classic, two toys are having a discussion in the nursery. Here’s a paraphrased version:

“The poor little Rabbit was made to feel very insignificant and common-place, and the only person who was kind to him at all was the Skin Horse. The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out…and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it. “What is Real?” asked the Rabbit one day, “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?” “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become real.” “Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.” “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?” “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

Above all, this is what I want to teach my children. Beautiful people don’t just happen, they become. It’s only after someone has dealt with life’s hardships and trials that they come out shining. Flaws are beautiful – they make you raw, real, human. I don’t want my children to ever confuse beauty with what they look like; that’s just genetics. Rather, beauty stems from that inner light that burns brightly. Beauty comes from being the best part of someone else’s day. Beauty comes from being real...from working through those edges. This is what will make you unforgettable.

I may have lost my way a little. But I'm going to find my way back..and when I get there again, I'll be staying for good. You can bet on it.

Happy New Year, friends. Stay real. Stay flawed. Stay beautiful.

p.s. here are some of my favourite moments from 2011...I have a feeling 2012 is going to be epic.

 

Jack learning how to wink...

Flying his super hero...

A couple of my very own super heros...

Going on an adventure with Daddy...

Making fun of Mommy and enjoying every second of it...

My first born...he made me a Mommy...and how I love him for it.

He has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen, and how blessed I am to be on the receiving end of it.

Sweet little girl of mine...her big soft heart and zest for life...

She loves to explore everything around her...

And never wants to miss a thing...

She's already given me enough happiness to last an entire lifetime.

She's our angel, a gift from above...may she hold that in her heart all her days.

The arrival of this little bean?

Well, this little surprise, he stole my heart...

Just when I thought I was all filled up, he came along...

Be still my beating heart...I think it's going to burst.

I can't imagine my life without him.
The way he reaches for me, that smile, his eyes telling me I am enough...
I am complete.

My family...I have no idea what I've done to deserve them.

And to see them loving each other?
That's what it's all about...
love that cannot be measured, described or contained.

May they always know that their best is good enough...
may they know that they have always been loved.

My husband asked what I wanted for my 37th birthday this year. I asked him to take photos of me with the kids. Of course, they refused to sit near one another so I got some 1:1 cuddle time with each of them. Over the past few years, I've dreaded my birthdays...I don't like the reminders of mortality. I want to grab hold of everything too tightly.

This go around, I had just one wish, "I want to grow old with these beautiful souls. That is all."