Leonie: The Source of Myself - It's Not What You Do

As a mama who has spent the past 7 months struggling to stay clear of a second bout of post partum depression, and as a normally very upbeat “go get ‘em” kind of person, it is amazingly challenging for me to be as honest here as I know I need to be.  Before having kids, I was sure I’d always be insanely busy; super social; well recognized and liked for what I do; a mama who didn’t let kids “get in the way” of who she really was.  Well, after battling post partum depression throughout the first year of my now three year old’s life and unfortunately revisiting that gloomy place  following the arrival of my second son, I realize that pre-kids, I knew nothing about how profoundly having children would affect and change me. 

As so many of us are, I was committed to holding onto my “old self”.  But as uncomfortable as it has been, I am realizing that in many ways that “old self” no longer exists.  As hokey as it may sound I feel somewhat reborn. I am not the woman I was before kids.  Yes, the concept of yoga, dance and backpacking do still thrill me… I still love people and truly thrive in social and community related arenas, but at the same time, just about everything about me has changed.  It is wildly uncomfortable but what I am working on today as a “newish” mama, is seeking peace with the new me.  Listening to my gut.  Leaving behind the world of doing it right and achieving.  Accepting the unknown.  Redefining myself and yeah, kind of starting over. 

In retrospect and through the pain of depression, I realize how , prior to becoming a mother, I survived on shining accolades from the outside world.  Were the dance events I held full to capacity?  Did I exceed the wildest expectations of my clients?  Was I best friends with a pretty ridiculous number of people?  Were my weekends booked to overflowing with exciting volunteer and social activities?  Did I have inspiring and interesting stories to share at every turn?  Was I liked and accepted?  Was I doing enough and doing it perfectly? 

Letting go of what in many ways made me “me” pre-kids, has allowed me to step beyond an almost paralyzing need for approval and recognition.  Being the best at things.  Having the best stories to tell on Monday at work.  Making sure I was liked by everyone… It was exhausting on a core level.  Wiping clean the slate, has in many ways freed me.  I will achieve.  In fact, I am achieving now but it’s on a more intimate level than ever before.  I am walking a private path.  This is new and uncomfortable for an innately social person.  Can I stay true to my need for love, community and adventure while simultaneously honoring my new self?  Being quiet has helped.  Simplifying my social circles.  Letting go of “shoulds” and comparison.  Doing less, not more.  Contemplation.  Walks in the woods.  I know I could successfully coordinate mama-oriented events.  I could launch back into work with smiles and success.  I could recommit to an awe-inspiring yoga or dance schedule. I could definitely do more, more of what the “old” me would have done. But where is the line that honors this new path?

Recently I was asked to answer the question “Who am I?” without saying anything about things that I did….  I was stuck and found myself near tears.   The depression and questions I have struggled with since having the boys has evolved around becoming okay without constant outside reassurance that I am the best/succeeding/loved/doing more & better than most..etc.  Can I be me, truly accept me and not define myself by a job, a project, a form of exercise, a hobby?  Without wild tales of success to tell when I run into acquaintances, can I accept myself not as Leonie; the friend, the realtor, the event coordinator, the world traveler, the dancer; but rather as just Leonie… a strong, loving, committed, hungry, passionate, positive, friendly, willing to be quiet, tired, scared at times, antsy, curious, mama to two and introspective woman nearing 40?  Can I smile and share a piece of the real me, rather than depend on a crazy tale from my latest accomplishment in order to be accepted and feel connected?

 It is this question and my willingness to surrender into it which is helping me to find a way out of pretty ugly periods.  I am blessed that this second bout with the blues has been quite mild compared to the first.  I feel blessed that I have had the chance to strip away everything and ask these questions.  If I had kept working as much as I once did, had stayed as busy and as externally focused as I once was, this raw and real side of me, this more authentic, grounded and straightforward me, this new me would have remained unknown.  And this new me is capable of anything.  I might not be climbing mountains, but I birthed two incredible boys and that alone was insanely beautiful and life changing.  I might not be hosting sold-out dance events, but I made it through long months of “colic” with both kiddos and some damn ugly post partum depression. Life is simple now and there’s a whole lot more space in my heart and head when I’m not worrying about the rest of the world and what I “should” be doing. Honestly, not knowing this side of me, no wild tales or grand list of accomplishments, would not only have been a disappointment to me, but I know that in some awesome ways that being this vulnerable, willing and real of a woman, will only benefit my boys, as well as the rest of my wild and wonderful journey as Leonie.

Carrie: Family Camping

My husband and I both grew up in small towns in the mountains.  Camping, hiking, swimming in rivers and lakes, was a way of life.  Before we had kids we would spend time tent camping, kayaking, and skiing.  We also took trips to Europe, the East coast and crazy weekends getaways to Las Vegas and New Orleans.   Then our first daughter was born...(queue the screeching tire noises).  In other words, our time of kick-our-heels up travel was over! 

But when one door closes, another one opens.  Three months after Sadie was born we found a 1970’s Airstream travel trailer, and decided to give it a try.  It hadn’t been on the road in quite a while, and we spent some time getting it up-to-date.  Soon, we were camping all over the mountains again.  I found our daughter loved being outside all the time and playing in nature, and I loved getting away from the pressures of everyday life.

After moving to the Bay Area, we discovered a whole new type of camping.  Now, instead of spending time in the rugged beauty of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, we find ourselves camping by the beach, or in the nearby redwoods.  This past summer, now with two young daughters, we went on a whole new adventure and drove all the way to Vancouver Island, camping along the way.

Sometimes I lament the days of carefree travel, and I can’t say I don’t yearn for another trip to Europe.  For me, the stress and cost of towing two small children around the globe is something to avoid at the moment.  But, I have found so much joy in rediscovering our own part of the world.  There really is so much to see right here.  Not only that, I love to camp because it takes me away from my everyday chores, and routines, and I find myself reconnecting with my family on a deeper level. 

I know that this has become our family “thing”.  We are campers, and this is something the kids will identify with as they grow up.  For my family, camping is what we do to get us back in the groove.  It is where I reset my goals, and dream about my future.  When you sit out in the woods without any distraction, things settle down, and life becomes simple again. 

Anna: The Shift of Motherhood

I recently read the following quote in a parenting book: "You should study not only that you become a mother when your child is born, but also that you become a child."  Karen Maezen Miller, the author of the book, "Mama Zen," credits these words to Dogan, a Buddhist philosopher and monk who lived almost 800 years ago.  Such a message is like the light from a distant star, a beam which shoots across inconceivable spans of time and distances of space to reach our modern eyes.  Words like these may have originated long ago in an era I cannot imagine, in a language I cannot speak and from a source long since deceased.  Still, the message is not only enduring but universal to any parent, in fact, enduring because it is universal.  Anybody who knows the radical reordering of oneself that happens as one falls into the role of parent recognizes the deep wisdom in Dogan's message.  It is a role I, myself, assumed over three years ago now when our son, Luke, was born and it is a role that profoundly shook and rearranged my drive and purpose in living.

"Mother" is something a woman does every day after the birth of her child and so each day becomes.  As easy as it is to satisfy the definition of mother, to leave the definition here would be like wading only ever in the warmth and calmness of bay waters and saying you know the ocean.  "Mother" is a word like a prism.  The definition is the shell of cold crystal and the breath of meaning is the light of experience that bursts through this glass in a colorful show.  "Mother," then, is much more than what a woman becomes with the shift from "am not" to "am" at a child's birth.  In my experience, it has not been a static state but, instead, a title which continues to deepen and ripen over time as both my son and I grow together to fill the space of our respective roles in each other’s lives.        

Motherhood is a state of living in extremes.  In my experiences with Luke I have known the most profound and intense joy, pride, happiness and gratitude as I’ve watched and relished in his transformation from a floppy baby bird of a being swaddled in my arms to a now fully articulate and imaginative boy so bursting with personality he almost seems to radiate at times.  Simultaneously, I’ve experienced with Luke overwhelming senses of anxiety, frustration, exhaustion and helplessness.  Never in my life have I felt, for example, so defeated and emotionally depleted as in times of Luke’s tantrums, common occurrences in our home during his 2’s.  The drain from my core during his raging fits proved challenging in seemingly insurmountable ways.  Now almost 3 and a half, Luke has mostly mellowed and has certainly become more reasonable and rational.  His tantrums have somewhat subsided and, when they do occur, I’m seasoned enough now in dealing with them that I can abandon my urge to tame them and, instead, ride the wave of them until their extinction.  Luke always eventually regains composure just like smoldering embers always eventually extinguish. 

In the end, I’ve learned more from Luke and from myself in my new role for Luke that motherhood is not an instinctual switch which flips in our brains with the birth of a child, after which time our lives as nurturers proceed on auto pilot.  Motherhood is, instead, a process which highlights the ultimate process of growth and change we’ve all known and experienced since our own lives began at birth.  Motherhood is something I work every day to be and do and strive to be and do to the best of my ability.  Sometimes I feel a joy in my days with Luke so palpable it’s as though, with his arrival, a new and separate heart has grown inside my chest.  Other days, I find myself in tears, at a loss, guilt-ridden and defeated in light of my lack of patience with him, my frustration or even so much as my abrupt tone of voice with him in light of both. 

Ultimately, motherhood, in even these three short years, has opened doors in me, sparked friendships and taught me the importance of allowing a space for imperfections for it is only in such spaces that true growth can happen.  Luke is my greatest, deepest joy and hope.  He is also my greatest challenge, my most profound lesson in living.  Motherhood has sprouted new life in the life I once thought complete and, in a sense, I found the groove I’ve been seeking when I became a mother.  In other ways, I realize that motherhood is a cocoon for alchemy within me so that, as I usher the transformation of Luke and prepare him for individuality and independence in the world, I also witness an equally profound shift within myself and, amidst these rapid changes, remember to preserve my own individuality and independence despite this all encompassing role of mother.