Mistakes are our greatest gifts, and yet, we are buried in shame.
Do not make a mistake. Do not ever be bad.
We are shamed.
We are shamed.
We are human. Not one of us is perfect, not one.
I teach my children that their failures are the best things that could happen for them, their mistakes, beautiful lessons in how to do life beautifully.
Punishment breaks my heart. An eye for an eye, an ancient, barbaric way. And all of it pointless, in my eyes, because shame only drives the ‘bad’ underground, it doesn’t lovingly guide it to a better day.
Accepting our faults and carefully growing with them through life might work.
Shaming will destroy.
I choose the gentle way.
I choose self compassion, and compassion for others.
We’re heading into winter in Australia, and I’m feeling the resistance rising already.
I’ve come to dread winter for the internal obstacles it brings. Sunny days charge my batteries and fill my joy pots to a state of ‘just so’, and yet here comes winter to tear my joy pots apart once more.
The problem lies not only in the darkness that will inevitably replace the beautiful streams of sunlight that flood my lounge room, daily, but also the lack of choice that will come attached to the forthcoming rainy days. So, kids. I guess it’s a stay inside again, kind of day, today. That sort of thing.
My children are three and six years old. And I have been in training to be their Mum my whole life because, essentially, I’ve done it all before, being the much older sibling to my two brothers and sister (now adults, where does time go? I’ll always be amazed.)
The thing is: winter makes me feel as though I might not be as wonderful at this ‘Mum thing’ as I always dreamed I’d be. Winter melts me into a bit of a tizz, to put it lightly, because the truth is: there are only so many hours of yes in my Mum tank to keep these little ones (and myself) happy in the face of a rainy day.
And so I’m really quite frightened at what’s to come. Especially this winter, now that I don’t have a partner in crime to lighten the load every second week when the children are with me.
The bright side of this admission is this— I am doing an excellent job at being human. I am seeing the reality of my limitations and admit that I just may need a little bit of extra help this time around.
I’m tired. I’m so tired of lying to myself, pretending that the things, situations, people, scenarios that I’m not entirely okay with…are all sunshine and rainbows. They are not. Dark clouds have existed since the beginning of time. They do not disappear simply because I insist upon looking to the sky and telling everyone around me that they are white.
I wish I wasn’t dreading winter. I wish I wasn’t sometimes afraid that I might break my children—the latter is something I am particularly scared of. My Mum was diagnosed with Bi-Polar disorder in my early teenage years, and I am still trying to pick up all the pieces of her broken within me.
I do know I will be okay, and I do know my beautiful babies will be okay, too. I am a beautiful Mother (if I don’t say so myself) and I don’t need a sunny day to tell me the love I bring to my babies’ lives is filling their spirits with all the lovely things.
Winter is the mountain that lay ahead of me. But this awareness is, at least, a good thing because it gives me time to gather my climbing tools and prepare for the climb. Life can be so hard, sometimes, but there has never been a day of it that has not been worth the struggle.
Because I am me, and I am Mum.
How beautiful to be able to hold those titles with such love, and pride, and grace.
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