Is There Anybody Out There?

(Don't get too excited, unfortunately this post has nothing to do with the famed Pink Floyd song whose song title I borrowed.)

I allow myself 1 hour of writing time per day, usually during Sophie's "nap" time. Most of my writing amounts to nothing, which has been troubling for me at times, but for the most part is understandable. As I "write" now, for instance, my lovely daughter (who's supposed to be napping) is yelling at the top of her lungs,

"Hello?

Mommy?

Are you there?

Is there anybody out there?

I need help!

MOMMY?!

HELLO!!!

Are you watching the weather? (As if...)

MOMMY!!!!!!!"

Granted, she is not yelling out of anger, rather, she finds this quite humorous. I do, too, to a certain extent, but I swear right here and now NEVER to get down on myself again for writing something disjointed, incoherent, or downright lousy. Who can concentrate with all of this noise?! It is no wonder my mind is only flooded with good ideas when I'm lying in bed at night... it's the only time I get any peace and quiet.

"Mommy, mommy, MOMMY!!!"

In Sync

I had the most wonderful day with my daughter today. It was one of those days that makes me so grateful to be able to be with her every moment of every day and so worth the petty sacrifices I've made to be able to do so. I'm not exactly sure what precipitates a day like this, if it has something to do with me, or her, or the stars, but it is such a beautiful thing, regardless of cause. I don't know what I did to deserve such a thoughtful, caring, sweet little girl, but it must have been pretty impressive.

Recently, my dear friend, Carrie, posted a piece on her incredibly well-written and thought-provoking blog, http://www.iwantnina.blogspot.com/, about the image(s) of ourselves that we project to the world. It really got me thinking about the things that most influence the images I project and the things that shape them, from my near-crippling issues with body image, to my unrealistic drive for perfectionism, to my tendency toward obsessive-compulsiveness. I thought a lot about how I even put up a front for the people closest to me (I think we all do to a certain extent)... but not with Sophie. Aside from the fact that we're always together, I think part of the reason we're so in sync with each other is because I don't need to pretend with her. I can be the "real" me because she has yet to develop self-consciousness and therefore, has no idea about concepts like judgement.

What a gift this has been for me! Since I've been able to let my guard down with her, I've learned so much about myself that I either never knew existed or completely forgot about. This has definitely been one of the most unexpected yet welcomed aspect of motherhood for me thus far.

This is certainly not to say that all of my revelations have been positive. For the first year or more of Sophie's life I was plagued by a fairly deep depression. Suddenly the mirror was right in front of my face all the time and I often didn't like what I saw. It has taken me, and is taking me, a long time to come to terms with and work on many different aspects of myself that, frankly, I'm not crazy about. But on days like this, when the stars align just right, I actually see quite a few areas that I not only like, but am proud of. And it's days like these when I realize that you have to have good with bad, as day needs night and hot needs cold.

Backyard

There was a story on the local news the other night about a recently deceased, 77-year-old man nicknamed, "Wild Man of the Smokies," who, after his family was forced from their land by the National Park Service upon the creation of the Great Smoky's National Park, eluded the law and spent the rest of his life, alone, in a remote mountain cabin with no modern conveniences. His family tried numerous times to persuade him to adapt certain amenities (running water, electricity, phone service) to his humble lifestyle, but he refused. Apparently, this man never knew what year or day of the week it was or who the president of the U.S. was. He told time by the position of the sun and was known to say, "Everything I need is right in front of me. Everything I want is right here."

This story reminded me of the very first idea I had for a blog post and one of the most important lessons I've learned. Last spring and summer, Sophie was old enough to be aware of her surroundings and Jeff and I were eager to take her to many of the places we'd always dreamt of bringing her. We took her to waterfalls, scenic hikes, mountain summits, and picturesque streams, all the while eager to see her reactions. Every single time, however, without fail, we were a bit disappointed. Instead of being drawn to the thunderous roar of the waterfalls, she was more interested in examining the gravel in the parking lot; instead of being seized by the sheer grandeur of the highest peaks east of the Mississippi, she found joy in climbing on the Park Service's cement benches. After experiencing this time and time again, it finally struck me - beauty is everywhere. It is in the sound of the Velcro strap of a toddler's stroller, it is in the way your body feels as it ascends and descends a steep hill, and it is in the droplets of rain slowly dripping off a freshly emerged leaf. The problem with expectation is that you blind yourself from everything except the object of your desire, all-the-while missing everything else along the way; you set yourself up for disappointment.


I told this story several months ago to my dear friend and spiritual advisor/teacher, Tom (this description does NOT do Tom or my relationship with him ANY justice what-so-ever, so stay tuned for a piece devoted just to him!), and after taking a moment to contemplate my words, he said (and although I'll use quotation marks I know I won't say this quite right), "People talk to me about traveling to India and other places around the world and if they ask me if I've been I usually answer, 'No, but have you seen your backyard?'"

So, here's to the "Wild Man" who never sought, to my daughter who is fascinated by everything she sees, hears, feels, smells, and tastes, to Tom for putting things into perspective, and to me for figuring it out on my own! This blog, which will catalog every little beautiful plant in my yard (especially as they sprout and bloom) feels that much more significant now.

Before and After

I've started and stopped more blog posts throughout the past week than my two-year-old has said "no" today. This post, however, I am committed not only to finishing, but to sharing, as well.

The truth is, I'm having a hard time with this blog business and I've only been at it for a week. I'm not only rusty in the writing department, but I'm also severely out-of-practice with anything that is, to quote my two-year old, "mine." Since giving birth to my daughter, the only identity I've really occupied is "Sophie's mommy." As a stay-at-home mother, I have focused nearly all of my energy on her and little on me. Somehow, somewhere, I've lost my sense of self. But I've got a bee in my bun to find it and what better time to start than NOW!

This is not to insinuate that I regret even a minute of the past 28 months, because that is certainly not the case. I'm proud to say that Sophie and I have spent nearly every waking moment of her life together and that I've never missed a thing in her young life. She and I have an amazing relationship and a closeness that is really special. I have never taken for granted how fortunate I am to be able to be with her every day and I honestly don't feel as though I'm making sacrifices to do so. Sure, Jeff and I can't afford lavish vacations, fancy meals, or other frivolous expenses, but we're doing what we feel is best for our daughter and we've never felt an ounce of guilt or regret in the process. That being said, I do feel as though Sophie and I both could benefit from me having... a life outside of her! How can I teach her to be independent and free-thinking if I'm not setting those examples, myself? And how can I feel truly fulfilled if I don't at least acknowledge my own dreams and personal aspirations?

I know this may be shocking to those of you who have had the unfortunate luck of only knowing me after September 25, 2007, but prior to mommyhood I was a pretty cool chick. I was quite free-spirited and thrived on spontaneity. Hell, for the most part, I just thrived, period. My husband and I were huge Phish-heads (those who follow the band Phish, just in case you're not hip to the term) and it was nothing for us to drop everything - including bills - to follow the wild, psychedelic, improvisational, "jam band" (I strongly dislike that term) geniuses for several shows at a time at any venue we could get to. I lived for anything mind-expanding and spent well-over the standard 4 years of college hanging on my professors' every word, pushing myself to the brink of insanity to excel in school and to be the best student in every class. I took entire foreign languages (well...one) and advanced philosophy courses just for the thrill of it and ended up double-majoring in Sociology and Anthropology at one of the most liberal "Liberal Arts" colleges in the country. I was an intellectual through and through and I read and wrote and thought and dreamed. I prayed and cried and danced and loved and combed the interiors of my soul for purpose and meaning. I had a Zen-based spiritual practice with so many profound experiences that any one of them would have left me a lifetime of contentment. I was blessed and blissed beyond belief.

And if that weren't enough to earn me a top slot in the cool club (or at least cool here in Asheville), my husband, Jeff, and I were also, um, AVID outdoorsy folks. By avid I mean we camped, as simply as possible, about a third to a half of the weekends in a year. We found God in nature and couldn't get enough of feeling one with the trees, the streams, and the stars. Camping was our priority; we did it over everything else. Petty things like... cleaning the house and paying the bills got squeezed in late on weeknights when we "had time." We even got into winter camping and camped in sub-freezing temperatures in ice and snow and rain and frost. We planned entire vacations around camping in some of the most pristine locations in the country. As-a-matter-of-fact, right before I got pregnant we flew out to the Pacific Northwest with practically nothing but what little camping gear we could fit into our suitcases and camped throughout the Olympic Peninsula and Mount Rainier National Parks.

Then, on Wed. October 11, 2006 my life drastically changed. I found out I was pregnant, which was a bit of a surprise, but a very welcomed, albeit a bit scary, one. On Sat. October 14, 2006 I went to a life-changing Zen Retreat. And on Sun., October 15, 2006, as I was getting ready to pick apples with my brother and his then girlfriend (now wife), when I suffered a devastating miscarriage. I was only about 7 weeks pregnant, but the blow hit me with such intensity that I thought I would never recover from it. In some ways, I still haven't.

I graduated from college on Dec. 15, 2006 and was pregnant again just a few weeks later. At about 7 weeks pregnant, I thought I had another miscarriage. The emotional pain was just about more than I could handle, but, much to everyone's surprise (including my doctor's), somehow I was still pregnant. It turned out that I had most likely lost a twin and I went on to have a healthy pregnancy and later, beautiful Sophie.

My entire pregnancy, however, was filled with worry. I had two monumental losses back-to-back and I just couldn't shake the thought that something was going to happen to that one, too. Somehow, I had lost faith. Even after my perfect baby girl was born, my emotions were still numb. I desperately wanted to breast-feed her, but my body just wouldn't cooperate with me and it couldn't happen. A couple months later, my thyroid went bezerk (and is still out-of-whack today). I felt as though my body had betrayed me many times over and I was angry. Instead of turning to God or meditation I recoiled and invested all of my energy on Sophie and forgot about me.

Well, here I am, folks. I'm here to take back my self and to become reacquainted with the Kim from before October 15, 2006. I know writing is one of the elements to make this a reality, but so is accountability. I'm taking a big chance here, putting myself out in the open like this, so that you, my loyal readership (of three!) can hold me accountable. I am not going to hide behind pain and self-hatred any longer. With any luck, I'll find the things I loved about my "old" self and fuse them together with all of the energy I've invested in motherhood and maybe, just maybe, a "superKim" will emerge!

Thank you for reading! Peace and love to you all...