First, I had a kickass birthday party that I threw for myself (my birthday is May 11). 50’ish people showed up. Whoa. What’s more shocking to me is that I only gave a weeks notice, because it was a week ago when I made the decision, that I should celebrate myself. It was of course, exhausting and at the same time exhilarating to invite all these people over, to feel seen, and liked. I’m not sure I’ve felt like that for a long time. Well, definitely not the part where I feel seen and liked. The stories I used to make up in my head when I would have parties were ridiculous. I would twist the narrative so that I believed people were only showing up because they liked S, not me. For real, that’s what I would tell myself. To finally be in a space where I can accept that people are showing up for me, is liberating.
This weekend has not been my favorite since all the infertility and parent bullshit that’s been ruling my life for the last 10 years. For a while I actively avoided it, a couple of years S and I weren’t even in town because I couldn’t stand to acknowledge Mother’s Day. My birthday and Mother’s Day are inextricably linked and frankly, I could use a different birthday. Too bad I don’t get to choose that. But, this year, there is a bit of a shift in that I was inspired to celebrate my birthday and not just celebrate, but go big. So big, we ran out of paper plates! I haven’t thrown a party for more than 15 people over the past several years, this was nuts. Mother’s Day. Meh. I don’t like it, there’s a lot of pressure for the day to be amazing and conflict-free, which does not happen when parenting. Ironic don’tcha think. I got breakfast in bed, which X has seemed to taken on as his thing to do, and that was the best part of the day. When he can be, X is an amazingly in tune empathetic kid, and it’s wonderful to watch. The rest of the day was the usual rollercoaster of a Sunday and I was pretty wiped out by my party. I managed to get in a really hard workout kind of like the ones I used to do, and I realized I really miss those ass-kicking workouts. We planted some flowers and I’m working on a vegetable garden, it was pretty good with some meltdowns thrown in to remind me that it’s still another day with a 4 and 7 year old.
A big deal for me this Mother’s Day is a change in how I view my own childhood issues. I continue to learn exactly how shut down and out of touch with my own body and emotions I’ve been. I was so walled off from feeling that I literally don’t know how to let feelings flow through and out and my body keeps reacting accordingly. I guess I made a step forward this week though, because I sat in Therapist #3’s office and while bemoaning why did I have to be so goddamn resistant to SG when he was right all along, and she walked me through all the work I did in that 8 months before allowing myself to trust SG. She pointed out that sometimes resistance like that means we know what we can and can’t handle, and I just wan’t ready yet. This image of peeling back the layers keeps coming up. SG uses it, the facilitator used it, Therapist #3 used it. Trusting that I’m peeling back the layers at a pace that I can handle. It’s tough to trust that I’m going at the right pace for me.
The one thing I took from this week though? I know what my story is and I’m aware that while someone else may want to change the narrative or try to tell me I’m remembering wrong, I’m not.