You're doing great. Really.

I've always had something of an ego problem. I mean, I never thought I was better than anyone else, or cooler, or smarter, or more talented. I mean, I knew plenty of amazing people who were clearly more cool, smart, talented, beautiful, etc. I definitely don't think I've ever struggled with an "I'm better than you" mentality. But I also never really struggled with a "I suck" problem either. I feel like I've had a pretty healthy dose of feeling good about what I was able to do. When I put my mind to something, I usually saw results. I always got good grades, did my homework on time, explored my talents, etc. 

So maybe it's not so much that I had an ego problem. I really just had a healthy self esteem.

Then I became a mom.

Motherhood has been one of the most amazing, humbling, awe-inspiring, joyful experience of my life. It's also been the most challenging, draining, and tiring. And for probably the first time in my life, I often get feelings of "I'm just not cut out for this." And I have to be honest, it's a new thing for me.

Do get me wrong. There are plenty (PLENTY) of things I'm not cut out for. I can't sew to save my life (seriously). I am not particularly athletic. I'm not crafty. I'm not a lot of things. But here's the thing: I don't really care that I can't sew, pass a football, or throw the most amazing dinner party. But being a mom is something I do care about. It's something I've poured my heart and soul into. It's something I worry about every. single. day. It's something I desperately want to be good at.

Now let's just get this out of the way: I know I'm doing my best. And I know that all moms feel this way at some time or the other. (Well, most moms. I know there's a rare few that just fit perfectly into mommy mode, but they are weird.) I don't think I'm going to screw my kid up anymore than the next person.

I am just basking in this feeling of self-doubt in hopes of learning something new. And in fact, for so many reasons, these feelings of insecurity, worry, and fear about not living up to some sort of ideal have been an amazing teacher:

I have learned compassion--not only for myself, but for all parents. This includes many parents that I used to quietly roll my eyes at when they were doing something different than I would. Now when I see a parent struggling with a spirited child, instead of judging I want to reach out and hug them.

I have learned forgiveness...for others and for myself. Those days when I don't live up to my ideals, I've learned to let go and remember that children are resilient and so am I.

I'm learning patience. I'm learning that this amazing little person I am watching over is just that: a person. She has her own feelings, her own hopes and dreams (even if for now it's just to climb on the counters), and her own will. I can't control her. All I can do is teach her, hope for her, and pray for her.

I'm learning that I am stronger and more capable than I once thought. Isn't it amazing how we can learn about our strengths through our weaknesses? I'm also learning that the more time I spend on my knees, the stronger I truly am.

Mostly I am reminded that we are not alone. We are not meant to do this life on our own. We must trust our family, friends, neighbors, and the Lord to give us support when we need it most. This is why I honor the struggles I have, because ultimately they shape the person I was meant to be.

So when it comes down to it, I know I can do this job. And I'm realizing that it's not about doing it perfectly. It's not about coming out "on top." It's about humility, hope, and love. After all, we do not have to be perfect in this life. We just have to know where to place our heart.

The Write Stuff

Source

Once upon a time I used to write a lot. I would write reports for school. I would write little "books" for my friends. I would make up stories, journal daily, and even throw a poem in the mix every now and then. I even wrote a thesis once upon a time--a nice long piece of work that supposedly represented several years of schooling and study. It's published in a library. It even gets checked out from time to time (only by graduate students who are supposed to look at former stuff, but whatever...)

The writing didn't stop when I graduated (yes, I had to graduate several times before I was "done" being a student. Slow learner.) I was expected to write for my career. In fact, one semester I joined a faculty writing group where I wrote every. single. day.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't claim to be anything of a profound or "great" writer. I don't plan on having a novel published, or being recognized for my prose. I inherited my mother's bad spelling, and I often neglect grammar on purpose. (So there, Ms. Chavez! Just kidding, you were my favorite English teacher.) But I love what writing offers: It offers an opportunity to do that one thing that separates us humans from the rest of the animal world--reflective self thought. Writing allows us to dip into our imagination, create something that wasn't there, and make sense of our own reality (sometimes through creating a completely new reality).

So with this in mind, I'm going to try and write more. Every day, in fact. (But I'm not going to feel guilty when I inevitably miss a day or get sidetracked completely. If there is one thing motherhood has taught me it's to be more forgiving of myself and others.) I can't guarantee anything witty, profound, or even entertaining. But then again I'm not forcing anyone to read this, so you get what you pay for. But I do hope that this little exercise will help me feel that creative gap and reconnect me to something that I've grown to love over the years.

Write on, right on.

my life in a nutshell...

Sometimes I find this whole "blogging" thing quite odd. I have bookmarked many friends who blog their life events in neat little packages. I see the most beautiful pictures of their children, families, homes, etc. It's remarkable to me that I can click on a few links and "catch up" on the lives of people who I really haven't seen in almost ten years. Sometimes I feel like an intruder on a life that I really have no business being a part of, but I find comfort in knowing that they are doing well.

When I see people these days and they ask me "what's new," I never seem to know what to say. I don't have any "big exciting" news to share. No engagements, weddings, babies, homes. I have a job that I love and feel deeply grateful for, but I've been at it for several years now, so it doesn't feel very new. I am meeting new people, trying new things (I went rock climbing last week and didn't fall off the mountain, thankyouverymuch), and attempting to make each day a better day. But I still don't know how to wrap those experiences into words that adequately answer the question, "what's new?"

I love my life. It's simple, but challenging. It's steady and unpredictable. I am pushing myself and learning new things and making deep and life-long relationships with people who make me better by the moment. I have a deeply rooted network of family and friends who I've known for years and who still inspire me with their strength, courage, and friendship. Even the people who's beautiful pictures every now and then pop up on my computer screen as I browse through their blogs stir memories that remind me of the past that has molded so much of who I am today. I feel loved, I feel grateful, and mostly I just feel. I don't have pictures that really track the moments in my life that hold the greatest significance, but my heart is stronger from the memories, lives, and experiences that steady the flow that keeps me alive.

The Bullet

For the past semester I have been trying to set up a friend of mine with one of my students. After many weeks of putting it off, he finally got to meet her tonight. Of course, he decided it would be great fun to set me up with someone as well (I'm really done with this part of being single, by the way...). It was casual; fun. I'm not going to lie; I felt pretty old compared to my date who is still a sophomore in college. However, the night went well, even if it was for strange reasons.

My student was in a concert tonight. It was a free concert, not too long. Afterward, the four of us (me, "date," "friend," and "student") went over to friend's house. I walk in, and lo and behold, I see a face that I hadn't seen in at least four years. It was the younger brother of my oldest friend. This guy was also best friends with my younger brother. We talked for a few minutes, and it was fun to see how much he had changed and yet how much he was still the same. I grew up with this boy. His family was my second family. (side note: with this boy was another boy who grew up in my neighborhood. I hadn't seen him for probably close to ten years. In my mind that boy was still 10... kind of trippy.)

My date and friend were trying to see which one of their blenders was "the best." My date's blender was a high-powered, industrial strength blender. My friend's blender was a small, but powerful, blender called "The Bullet." Throughout the course of the night the two talked up their product, and I felt like I was inside of an infomercial. It was funny.

About twenty minutes into a smoothie/milkshake blending escapade, my friend's younger brother walked in with some friends, among which was the younger brother of one of my best friends from high school. I also hadn't seen this guy for probably four or five years. He jumped right into the blending competition, with huge confidence in "the bullet," and began a very impressive presentation while making some salsa. I laughed a lot as I noticed the way he said certain words, or made certain gestures, that reminded me so much of his older brother.

What was so strange for me was that both of these younger siblings reminded me so much of the friends I knew years ago--friends who I still care a great deal for, but who have changed dramatically, not necessarily for better or worse, just different. As I sat in the apartment I had a surge of memories flood my mind. I was laughing the way I used to laugh in high school. And while I would never want to go back to high school, I did love those years and it was a little slice of dessert as I was transported back. It was also a little disheartening as I thought about how my relationships with both people have changed. These two people meant so much to me for so long, as still do, but it's not the same.

I don't mind change, and ultimately I am so happy to be where I am. I am surrounded by amazing people, and continue to meet more amazing people all the time. But I don't think I will ever get over the sadness that comes when friendships slowly evolve into, I don't know how to put it, something else. The love is still there, but the distance (not necessarily physical) is never easy to accept. It's nights like this that remind me how true the statement "we are the sum total of our experiences" really is. It reminded me that the people who have touched my life in the past, continue to play a part in the person I am now. And for that I am grateful.