honesty

How are you?

~ Patricia Schnase ~ 2 Comments

How are you?

It’s a simple question actually. One that we ask each other often. But, lately I haven’t been sure how to answer it.

In the grand scheme of things, my answer is: Good. Really good.

I love motherhood. My life has really balanced in the last few months. (Finally.) The number of out of the house activities is not too many. I’m getting a fair amount of sleep (less than I would have thought I needed). Connor and I have a nice, but flexible, daily routine. I’m finding time and energy for creative pursuits.

But, answering the question that way has two problems.

(1) It doesn’t usually lead to actual conversation.

That’s sometimes fine though. How are you? functions like Hello or What’s up? It’s a moment of connection. I see you. You matter.

But (2) it’s not exactly honest.

Motherhood is awesome. And awesomely hard. For every excellent moment, there’s at least one tough one.

The moment in the middle of the night where I lose my temper with the baby because I haven’t trimmed his fingernails and they’re digging in to the back of my arm.

The one where instead of greeting my husband with a smile, he gets a tired and cranky, Hey.

None of this is unexpected or abnormal. The problem is in how I process the feelings. I’m discovering that it’s important for me to learn how to share in a way that is both authentic and helpful. To own the feeling, then release it and move on. To say, “This is what I’m dealing with right now.”

I’m not totally sure what this will look like yet. As an introvert, it isn’t in my nature to be very forthcoming with my inner self. As a Midwesterner, it isn’t in my culture to whine about hardships. But as a human, connecting with honesty is important.

So if you ask me how I am, I’ll try to be honest.

Really good. And kinda bad.

 

How do you answer this question? What factors influence your response?

Bring Back the Social in Social Media

~ Patricia Schnase ~ 1 Comment

Over the last few days I’ve been fasting from Facebook. Basically I deleted the app from my phone and only allow myself to look at it on my computer. It feels weird, but good. I’d mostly been scrolling mindlessly while feeding or rocking the baby, and all the intense feelings that people were posting were having an adverse effect on me as an Empath.

But as I was browsing today, I noticed that at least a dozen of my friends were contemplating cutting back on social media. Or posting articles like this one:

http://www.anndouglas.net/blog/2017/1/30/how-to-avoid-being-psychologically-destroyed-by-your-newsfeed

Which got me thinking.

If so many of us are feeling tired, stressed, or otherwise unwell because of our social media, isn’t it our responsibility to make a change? It belongs to us after all.

Like others, my change has been to cut back. Others are more drastic and choose to quit. But the more I think about it, I’m not sure that’s the best answer.

I’m also not sure that removing the people who share the posts that stress me most is the answer either. That feels a little too much like choosing teams, eeny-meeny-miney-mo, back in grade school. The Empath in me doesn’t like the idea of just removing people because we disagree, or because they bother me.

So what then? Where does that leave us? I’m not sure that I have the best answer, but this is what I’ve come up with:

I challenge you, readers, my village, to post more consciously. To post the things that you think will make for a more social media experience. I’m not saying to stay away from the negative, from the things that need changing, from the funny memes and videos, but also to post about you.

Isn’t that the reason that we got suckered into this in the first place? The promise of connection, both in your community and with others around the world?

Tell us about you. About your day. About your dreams. About your dinner, even.

The screens between us make it easy to hide behind the memes and the articles and the videos. Come out from back there and connect with me.

Motherhood: What I don’t want to tell you

~ Patricia Schnase ~ 1 Comment

My husband and I welcomed our first child into the world on Tuesday. Connor James has already changed and enriched my life in the last seven days. I am so happy and blessed to have the privilege of being his mother.

Photo credit: BellaBaby Photography
Photo credit: BellaBaby Photography

We’ve had lots of encouragement and support from family and friends and we’re so grateful to have Connor’s grandparents living in the same town as we do. But it’s definitely a big adjustment. And aside from living with a newborn, I’m dealing with some things. Some thoughts.

I sort of feel like there are expectations when a person asks a new mother how she’s doing. We kind of want to hear how exhausted she is and offer a sympathetic smile. Like making small talk about the weather or the big game, we expect the conversation to go a certain direction, with both parties filling their expected roles.

So, here’s what I don’t want to tell you:

I don’t want to say that I was only in labor for about 6 hours. Especially if I know you labored longer.

I don’t want to tell you that I didn’t have an epidural, just a single dose of IV pain medicine. It feels like bragging. I promise I didn’t go into it trying to prove how strong I am.

I don’t want to say that breastfeeding has been going well, that my milk came in on day 3 and that by day 4, Connor had stopped losing and started gaining weight back.

I REALLY don’t want you to know that our second night home with him he slept almost 6 hours straight, because I never thought I’d have to set an alarm to wake up and feed a newborn.

I don’t want you to notice that I’m basically wearing pre-pregnancy clothes already. I’m not trying. I’m just wearing what fits.

At the same time as I’m thinking all of this, I am still dealing with the changes that come with having had a baby a week ago. I’m sore, and kind of hate using the bathroom. I’m sleepy often. I cry at literally nothing. I worry about being home with baby and two dogs while CJ is at work.

But, I’ve perceived these discomforts as comparatively minor, and so again, I don’t want to tell you. Somehow I fear that your response will be “That’s nothing” or “Just you wait.”

I know that I’m fortunate. So I downplay my experience, while at the same time wanting to share and connect. I’m still figuring out what sharing will look like for me, but maybe just writing this is a good first step. Writing it down is usually the best place for me to begin.

So now you know what I didn’t want you to know. What I didn’t know how to say.

 

But seriously, I already love him so much more than I imagined. Being a mom is totally awesome. Even at 2am.