Little House, Big Family

Its amazing to me how selfish people are, myself included. We spin around thinking we are fabulous and humble, generous and light. In the end, we only want ourselves to succeed, and we will do our best to mow down whoever seems to be getting ahead of us.

So many people have told me I was not capable of doing the things I am doing now. Many have also told me the opposite, but I'm sure you can guess which voice was louder. I began to listen, because that is what children are taught to do. As adolescence descended its black blanket over my eyes, I believed self deprecation and low self esteem was somehow cool. Yes, I knew that poem I wrote about the hot guy washing his car was pinpoint. It was so sharp and perfect you could have sliced cheese with the hormonally sweaty focus. But, I was not popular or as free spirited as as the other creative geniuses in the 11^th grade, so I quickly covered up that rush with the conviction that creativity was not a fate I was destined to. I decided my expected outcome would be a wife and a mom. So I'd better live it up fast while I had my freedom.

When I turned 30, something snapped inside of me. It was the rope that I had used to tie on this baggage.

I looked at my babies. Four of them, all perfect and beautiful, all of them carrying a piece of my heart in their pockets. This is the curse of motherhood. We pride ourselves in nurturing these tiny existences. We hang all our values and define our success on the outcome of these little people. We want them to be strong, proud, joyous, independent, and smart. But we also want them to be tiny, because we know that during this time in their lives, they need us to live. They will grow whether I want them to or not. They will cut their own crusts, buy their own clothes, have their own opinions. My advice and my values will have some influence, I hope, but I can't expect that to always be true. They may grow into people I don't recognize or understand. I will love them anyway, because when they were tiny, they taught me how to love.

I decided to move. Something I hadn't done in years. Ben, my husband, told me to go to school. I objected at first, saying there was too much catch up, but he persisted. He always has a way of changing my mind and making me see what is true. It is awkward, and full of obstacles. It is like learning to walk again, only this time, everyone around you is younger instead of older. I began writing, and I remembered- oh my god. I love this. How could I forget? I realized I never did, I was just convinced that I wasn't interested. I discovered I am creative, just like everyone is. There may always be someone with a more clever muse, but at least I know I have one, and I am learning how to speak to it. I think it might be pissed at me sometimes for ignoring it for so long. I know I would be too.

So this will be my space to write about what I love. There is a lot of ground to cover. My family, knitting, Lost, school, and writing. Hopefully some interesting work will come out of it. These are pretty much the things that fill up my day and my mind right now.

Stress is my current nemesis. When the stress is too intense, I tend to shut down and be very hard on myself. I call it my wall of self doubt. It feels so powerful to knock it down and each time I do it gets easier. One trick I have learned to step back and listen. There is a corner of the web my friend Shelli introduced me to. Whenever I am feeling stressed and unimaginative, I cruise TED. I always find something to inspire me, or at least break up the wall a bit. They have some wonderful insights given by authors about the creative process. This last week, I found this talk given by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of "Eat, Pray, Love" and "The Last American Man." She gives an interesting perspective on creativity. Once I started thinking of it this way, it released a huge pressure valve in my brain.