A Lesson in Judging

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Dear Q,

This world in which we live is a judgmental place. We judge people based on their appearances, attitudes, behaviours, beliefs, and motives.

To negatively judge another necessitates you believing yourself to be superior and right. You can’t think less of another unless you think more of yourself.

Remember that everyone makes choices for their own reasons – reasons that you don’t need to know and might never find out.

Just because someone doesn’t make the same choices you do, doesn’t mean they are making the wrong ones. Judging others solves nothing. It proves nothing. Presuming yourself to be superior does not make it so.

Embrace your freedom of choice. Embrace the power you have over your self. Allow others to embrace theirs. Let them be. Just be.

Love always,
Mom

Living online: Love it or leave it?

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A few days ago, I discovered that one of my favourite people on Twitter deleted her account. Her name is Christine. I had never met her, but I always appreciated her voice and perspective in my timeline.

When asked what happened to her account, her friend directed me to a blog post about her decision to leave. A lot in her post resonated with me, but what resonated most with me from Christine’s post was this:

I am shocked at the polar opposite viewpoints that exist in the world. They are shocking to me and at the same time, they are so distant because I am merely reading about them. It’s as if I’m having a dissonance with reality. I know it’s real but it doesn’t seem real. And other times, the reality is so stark against what exists in my head. It’s all this shifty, uncomfortable, unknowable realm of existence.

Yes.

I struggle so much with this. A lot of what I read online contaminates my mind, yet I feel like I need to read it because it is happening and true. Somewhere. I read about how people feel about my relationship and my children. I see how my relationship is politicized and how my kids’ identities are questioned and confused. I see people arguing about a hierarchy of oppression like it’s a competition – invalidating the lived experience of those deemed to be less oppressed than another. I read blatantly sexist, racist, and homophobic comments.

I am shocked by how freely people express ignorant and bigoted attitudes. I am shocked by what gets attention online – the speed at which negativity spreads astounds me. I am shocked by how much time, energy, and passion people devote to getting into other people’s business, especially when it doesn’t affect them, doesn’t hurt them (or anybody) and never will! I read tweets and articles people link to and often wonder where people get off. It’s too much and, sometimes, it sticks with me for days and longer. I still remember reading a tweet from someone who doesn’t believe in interracial relationships refer to mixed kids as rainbow babies (and not in a good way). I unfollowed her over a year ago. Still, I remember.

I expose myself to countless conflicting perspectives on how to parent and what I should be doing, eating, and boycotting. It’s exhausting. I read about gender identity development without any mention of the patriarchal ideals that influence it.

I live it. I know it exists. I don’t need to read about it every day. It’s too much. Too often.

I understand why Christine left Twitter; I have done it in the past. I deleted my original account years ago after a few months. I was uncomfortable. I felt so vulnerable to being judged and challenged for everything I tweeted. It stressed me out.

The question of authenticity wasn’t an issue for me, though. I’ve been living online in some capacity since 1994. I’ve participated in chat rooms, forums, Myspace and am now active on Facebook and Twitter (among other sites). For 17 years, I’ve been meeting people from the internet, in person and I’ve never had a bad experience -awkward, yes, but not bad.

There is an element of the unknown online. People can be whomever and whatever they want. The veil of anonymity allows them to express themselves to a degree they do not feel free to in person. Because of that, it’s hard to know how consistent people’s online personas are with their offline personalities. Generally, I don’t really think about it. If I like an online persona, then it doesn’t matter to me how “real” the person behind the screen is being. If we ever meet in person, I’ll find out.

Personally, I am pretty consistent. The overlap between my life online and my life offline keeps me in check. On Twitter, I interact with dozens of people I know in real life and all but a handful of my Facebook friends I know personally (many of whom are relatives). That said, even if there was opportunity for me to be different online, I don’t feel the need to. If I am not comfortable saying something as myself, to people I know, it doesn’t need to be said.

Recently though, I have been feeling that living online and being connected all the time has left me feeling disconnected from my life, offline. I feel like I don’t notice things I used to notice and I don’t celebrate the little things that should bring me joy – I just don’t pay attention to what is around me in the same way I once did. So, immediately after reading Christine’s post, I deleted both my Twitter and Facebook apps from my Blackberry. No longer can I lie in bed tweeting, or post a pic on the fly, or potentially update everyone on every little thing that happens to me in a day. I can no longer check my Twitter mentions while having coffee, or wish I could while I am driving around. In order to be connected, I have to actually open up my computer and log in. I think it’ll be a healthier way for me to live – especially with the baby coming. I will be able to focus on what is in front of me and pay attention to those who share my physical space.

I benefit a lot from living online. I have found old friends and met new ones. I can almost immediately get advice from moms I trust. I can keep in touch with family and give them access to recent pictures of Q. I have learned a lot and I learn something valuable everyday.

I have the world at my fingertips, but sometimes I need to step out of that world and focus on the physical one – for my sanity and peace of mind; I need to step away from the inevitable negativity that contaminates my timeline. I don’t think I’d ever actually leave Twitter or Facebook, but I completely understand why Christine did.

Have you ever been tempted to stop living online?
How do you filter and flush out the negativity that you see online?
How do you deal with all the judging that happens on Twitter and Facebook? Do you censor what you say to avoid being challenged?
How important is authenticity to you? Do you expect online personas to match offline personalities?

I am a zombiemom

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Pregnancy is a wondrous thing. It absolutely amazes me that an actual human being is developing in my belly. The more I think about it, the more I am filled with awe by the whole process.

But, pregnancy isn’t all butterflies and rainbows. It’s hard. It’s painful. It’s scary. It’s uncomfortable. There seem to be countless potential complications of varying degrees of severity. It’s heartburn and leg cramps. It’s swift kicks to the diaphragm, knocking the wind out of you. It’s an inability to sleep due to hip pain and general discomfort. It’s all these factors that can lead to stress, isolation, and sleep deprivation. It’s not all fun.

This pregnancy, I have had my fair share of complications; it has been one thing after another for the past nine months. Fortunately, I have felt better in the past couple of weeks than I have at any other point in my pregnancy. It’s unusual to feel good at the end, but I’m taking what I can get!

But that doesn’t mean I am sleeping. I am up at night with heartburn and hip pain and a general inability to sleep. So, what’s a girl to do when up in the middle of the night?

#zombiemoms

Now, if you are not on Twitter, that might not make any sense to you. #zombiemoms is a community on Twitter of sleep-deprived moms – many have newborns, a few are pregnant, and others have sick kids up in the night. #zombiemoms is a hashtag. On Twitter, that means if it’s added to a tweet, it creates a link that when clicked, accesses all the other tweets with #zombiemoms in them. That is how we keep in touch and follow the conversations.

On any given night, I can reach out to other moms who are also not sleeping. It is great to have company when we feel most isolated. We chat, ask each other questions, joke around, and support each other. Our little corner of Twitter has been invaluable to me. I feel connected to women who get that I am not choosing to be watching infomercials at 4 a.m. And, when the baby comes, I’m sure I will be checking in even more often.

I am a zombiemom. I put ice cream in the fridge and milk in the cupboard. I get little sleep and it comforts me that I am not alone. It’s nice to know that I am not the only one for whom pregnancy and parenting is not all butterflies and rainbows.

Are you a Zombiemom? Are you on Twitter? Check out #zombiemoms and join us – anyone is welcome, any time of night (or DAY!)

What’s in a name?

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Today is April 1. I am a couple of days away from 36 weeks pregnant and a month away from my due date.

And our baby doesn’t have a name. It’s a nameless wonder.

Over the past 9 months, we’ve settled on about a dozen names, all of which we abandonned after a week (for whatever reason). They just fall out of favour; none of them fit.

Now, we’ve been told it’s a girl, but there is always a chance it’s not. Girls names are hard for us! This is much, much harder than choosing a boy name.

It doesn’t help that we have a list of random criteria:
- can’t start with A (because Q & A is corny)
- can’t end in M and preferably not start with M (because of last name)
- not too old-fashioned
- not trendy
- not common
- not too unique
- pronunciation has to be obvious
- seriously, the list goes on…

I’ve (kind of) decided to wait and that I’ll know her name when I see her (or him, but boy names are easy). But I’m not sure I want it to be any of the names from our list. Nothing fits right.

Naming a child seems like such a major decision, but why? What is in a name? How much do our names shape our identities and who we are? Why are we judged by our names and what assumptions to people make about us based on what our names are?

All those questions run through my mind and I wonder if this child will ever have a name! Q’s name was a no-brainer. It was set from day one without question or doubt. So, why is it so hard this time around?

How did you get your name?
How did you chose the names of your kids?

“She looks like daddy”

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Yesterday morning as Q and I were sitting in the local coffee shop, a black woman walked by our table. “Mommy!” Q said, “Look! She looks like Auntie K!” He was referring to Mr. T’s sister. Interesting, I thought. The woman was about the same age, but the only physical attribute that resembled Auntie K was the colour of her skin.

Intrigued, I asked Q “Is there anyone here who looks like mommy?” He nodded and pointed to the closest white man in the shop. “Anyone else?” I asked. He scanned the room and pointed to three other white men. Interesting! I probed further and said “How about daddy? Is there anyone here who looks like daddy?” Immediately, Q pointed to the older black woman sitting at the next table. “Her. She looks like daddy.”

Interesting…

What do you think this says about gender?
What insights have you had into how your kids sort the world around them?

Hypermobility Syndrome and Pregnancy

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It is a little know fact, even among those close to me, that I have hypermobility syndrome (HMS). I don’t talk about at all and I am sure that people who know me will be surprised to hear that I have it. It isn’t something I ever thought I would share on my blog, but my pregnancy has forced me to put it out there in the hopes of connecting with others who are also affected by HMS. I need support and I need some coping strategies as I move further along in my pregnancy and get heavier.

The easiest way for me to describe HMS without falling into the ‘double-jointed’ misnomer is that it’s a connective tissue disorder that causes my ligaments to be stretchy.  Basically, my connective tissue doesn’t offer enough support to my joints, leaving my muscles to pick up the slack.  Each case of HMS is different and different joints are affected.  In my case, my major problem areas are my hips, wrists, elbows, shoulders, rib cage, and back.  The result is pain in and around my joints as my muscles compensate for my ligaments.  The harder they work, the more pain I feel.

I don’t talk about my condition for a variety of reasons.  First, I don’t think it’s a big deal; I have adapted my lifestyle to accommodate it.  I know my limits and I have effectively managed my pain for as long as I can remember.  I avoid activities like yoga and pilates, while focusing on strengthening my muscles so they can pick up the slack and keep me stable.  Secondly, there are a lot of people who are far worse off than I am. I don’t complain; I just deal with it.  Lastly, I don’t want sympathy, special treatment, or for people to question my ability. I do what I can and I live my normal.

Unfortunately, HMS can complicate pregnancy and this time it has for me. Not only do I have a lot of pain in my hips and pelvic area, my ligaments are not holding up my belly, so my abdominal muscles have to compensate more and more as I get heavier.  I can only speculate why it’s worse this time; every pregnancy is different.  This time, however, I am chasing around a two year old.  I am constantly bending down and picking things up off the floor.  And, I am lifting and carrying around a 28+ pound toddler all day, everyday.  It all has taken it’s toll and as my pregnancy progresses, the pain gets worse.

The belly pain came first and early.  When it did, I searched online for information, explanation, and any indication that this was normal for those of us with HMS.  The information out there is limited and has left me feeling a little isolated.  I see women seemingly unaffected by pregnancy – carting around many kids, working, working out, doing yoga, cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping without leaning on the cart for support, and doing everything that they would do if they didn’t have a being growing inside them.  I marvel at how refreshed they appear and have to remind myself that I am not those women.  I have to remind myself that the farther along I get in my pregnancy, the harder it will become to function.  I have to prepare myself for that and not compare myself to others. I am not a failure because I have trouble maintaining my house, or carrying a basket of laundry up the stairs, or repeatedly bending over to unload the dishwasher.

I am not writing this for sympathy, but with the hope that maybe another woman who is struggling can know she’s not alone – that she can find me and let me know that I am not alone.  That I am not a failure.  That I can’t do it all right now and that it’s alright.

I know I need to manage my expectations, take it easy, and set my priorities.  I know that if I pick up all the toys with Q before he goes to bed, that it will cut into the time I can sit on his floor at bedtime and read books and rock him gently. I know that if I go out in the morning, I will need to take a nap in the afternoon. The pressure to do it all is palpable. Although, I am good at not doing things I can’t physically do, the guilt remains.  It sucks, but my children and my health have to come first.

I have managed to find a few ways to ease the pain:

  1. Baths: Buoyancy is a wonderful thing.
  2. Maternity support belt: I recently got a support belt that is great for walking and standing.  It lifts my belly and takes the pressure off my muscles and my back.
  3. Body pillow or pillow wedge. Though sometimes uncomfortable and annoying, they support my belly when I am asleep. A pillow between my knees also helps take the pressure off my hips.
  4. No heels. This might seem like a given, but it makes a huge difference with balance and hip placement.
  5. Clothing: Sweater-dresses and leggings have saved me.  Also, over-the-belly maternity pants offer just a little extra support and don’t cut into my pelvic area like waistbands do.

Aside from those, I am at a loss. I am always open to ways to make myself more comfortable. Suggestions welcome!

Thank you.

How did you get comfortable when you were pregnant?
Do you have any ideas or suggestions for me to ease the pain?
Do you know of any online resources about HMS and pregnancy that I may have missed?

The awesome truth. Finally.

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It has been almost 2 months since I’ve posted. Somehow, I am still getting steady traffic (many thanks to Jacki at what did she say?!) and I’ve managed not to lose any Facebook fans. Humbling.

After catching up on some blog reading today, I have decided to let everyone know the main reason I have been absent from my blog. I am pregnant. I am creeping up to my third trimester at 24 weeks!! This pregnancy has kept me from blogging for a few reasons.

  1. Any free time I’d have to write, I spend napping.
  2. For the first 17 weeks, I was miserably sick and even the thought of sitting in front of my laptop made my stomach turn.
  3. Did I mention that I’m tired?

As my belly grows and it becomes more obvious to the general public that I am pregnant, I decided that it’s only fair to bring you all into the loop.

I have heard 2011 described as the year of babies and a quick count of the women I know having babies this year (10+) suggests that it just might be true.

Stay tuned… (or don’t, ’cause I can’t promise you won’t be waiting for 2 months).

Being Alone: Liberating, not lonely

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A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to watch this video and see Tanya Davis perform at Blissdom Canada in Toronto.

It was moving.

Tanya is real and genuine and talented. Her words articulate complexity, simply.

I can’t remember ever being afraid to be by myself. I don’t think twice about going to dinner and a movie alone. I look forward to it. It’s always been liberating – to be able to pick up and do something without having to wait for another person or match schedules. When I was younger, I’d go to the club alone and see who I’d see. Sometimes, being alone in a public place – like a mall, or a movie theatre, or a restaurant, or a coffee shop – was a way for me to be by myself but not alone. Anonymous in a crowd.

I think Tanya’s right, though. We fear being alone. We’re taught to believe that our own company is not good enough – or, shouldn’t be. I wonder how that influences our interactions with other people. If our company is not good enough for us, how can we possibly believe it’s good enough for someone else?

Being by myself is restorative. It allows me to connect with my self and remember who I am and why. It permits me to watch the world and listen without immediate distraction and obligation. I must admit that it is nice to have people to come home to now, though. I love that beating hearts wait for me and miss me when I’m gone.

Do you like to be alone? How do you like to spend your time alone?

Stifled

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This might be the most honest post I’ve ever written – mostly because at this point, I have no intention of publishing it (or maybe I do intend to, but the idea that I won’t frees me up to be raw).

The reality of my blog is that it scares me. It doesn’t scare me in the the way fish scare me, or the way I am afraid when Q leaves the house; the exposure it tempts scares me.

I want it to be perfect and I want my writing to be quality. That stifles me. A lot. I don’t fancy myself a writer and never have. But now, I have this blog and I have suddenly been thrust into that category by many; that label, though an honour, unnerves me.

I like to write funny posts and, sometimes, I think I should write more. They are fun to write and people seem to enjoy them. But, that isn’t where my head is most of the time. My head is always processing and wondering and considering and questioning. I constantly think about things that many people don’t seem to consider – the imperfection of the construct of time, how humans are conditioned to believe things that don’t really make sense when examined closely, why people act the way they do and say the things they say.

I think a lot about quantum level theories, religion & spirituality, social structures & standards, and identity politics – much of which never sees the light of pixel. Deep stuff. Different stuff. Stuff that makes some people uncomfortable because it challenges what they have been taught to believe, what they have chosen to believe, or what they have taken for granted to be absolute truth.

I believe that I give power to what I put out there; what I choose to write reflects who I am. That said, I like to keep my blog positive. I rarely complain or write about negative things because I don’t want to give them power. Those experiences and thoughts don’t deserve my time, attention, or the immortality that the internet offers. With that, I stifle myself further, which has resulted in this impasse, rut, or block that I am currently facing.

Much of it is self-imposed. All of it, I suppose.

I am a blogger and I:

  • am afraid to expose myself
  • am unnerved by the title writer
  • don’t write about the things that preoccupy my mind
  • refuse to dignify negative thoughts, feelings, and experiences.

That doesn’t sound like a recipe for a great blogger or writer. So, here I sit pondering the future of this public forum and questioning it’s role in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I want to share and I want to discuss. However, at this point I am not sure what to share or how.

I know my blog has been neglected and superficial for a few months now. I am trying to find my voice, my focus, and my desire to continue. I haven’t given up, though. Not yet. Whenever I think I might, I think of this and I can’t help but think I still have something to offer.

Training in the Red Light District

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When I started the Red Light District, my intention was to capture moments that I would otherwise not notice. I was inspired by all the red lights I came across during my commute to work. Instead of seeing them as an inconvenience, I decided to consciously appreciate the pause they gave me – the opportunity to breathe and take in the world around me.

With that, here is a photo I took of a train that runs behind the building where my mom lives.