Dear Mothers
Dear Mothers,
I see and hear you talking about your shit and how its not together. I hear about the mistake you made and that it means you're a bad mom. It makes me upset. It makes me want to confront you. And oh how I dislike confrontation. I thought about this the whole drive to Xan's dance class this evening. The class that didn't happen because its spring break and therefore the building was closed. Um yeah, I must have missed the memo. Or I got the memo and just didn't read it. Or, I put it in the pile of shit I've been working on getting together. Or maybe it's just common sense that I don't happen to have at this moment. Sense - I have a whole lot of, however none of it is what I would label "common". I no longer put this in the negative column of my self assessment checklist. Actually, I no longer have this kind of checklist. No feminist driven idea of having to prove I can do all this and that in the acceptable amount of time. I'm not knocking feminism, it is a beautiful thing. But sometimes I wonder if the ideas of sexual equality have morphed into something bigger than my own happiness. I don't want to go above and beyond just to show that I can. I want to do what makes me happy and what I believe my purpose here on Earth is. It shouldn't matter if my dream is big or small or even registers on our societies list of what is awesome. The things I need to accomplish in order to be considered a hard working and powerful woman aren't fit for any list. They don't fit in a box. And they can't be compared to yours because - we are not the same. Our purpose is not the same. Our dreams are not the same. Our children are not the same.
I don't have my shit together. That doesn't make me bad. The idea of perfection is where the badness lies. I don't shout my mistakes from the mountaintops. Not because I'm embarrassed of what you may think of me. But because I don't want my mistakes to be my reality.
Mistakeā¦. Lessonā¦. Evolve....
Every morning I wake up I am a different person than the day before. That is what I want my reality to be. A guessing game, a circus, a never-ending disaster of flip flopping hilarious moments infused with tenderness and seen through the eyes of love.
Dear Mothers... Younger ones with fears, older ones with regrets. All the ones with their shit not together. Stop it! Stop it right now! Shit isn't meant to be together - it is messy. It is life. I don't give a crap about your shit. I care about your worried eyes. I care about the words your afraid to say. I care about the smile lost in the busyness of your day. I care about your heart - and hope that you leave it open.
So please my dear women. Don't ever again say that you're a bad mother or that you don't have it together. Let it all go. Send your baggage down the river to the land of "Stop giving a fuck about what people think" (yes, its a real place. I've lost my shit there lots of times). Move into the land of your heart. It's oh so cozy here. The land where everyone is beautiful, where we are all on the same team. Where we lift each other up. Where we praise the magic of our mistakes as stepping stones to the next level. Where we keep moving forward. Where nobody is normal and shit is never together. Rise up and feel the power of simplicity. Of just doing what you love. And being who you are meant to be. You - Dear Mothers have more power to change the world than you can ever imagine. Take care and be proud.
I love you Always,
Jess <3