Always asking, always needing! Tie my shoe, make me dinner, she pulled my hair, bla bla bla.
And we say we adore them. We LOOOOOVE our kids. We feel fulfilled.
Our lives mean something to someone. We feel a sense of importance and protectiveness. Don’t touch my kid, or I’ll kill you.
We build a big house for our kids, we work all day to make money for our kids. We forget ourselves for our kids.
And then it’s mother’s day and they finally give us some recognition and all that hard relentless ungrateful work is paid off. They give you flowers, cards with hearts that say I love you, you are the best mom in the world. They might even give you breakfast in bed.
We love them. Those perfect wonderful little monsters.
Well, I didn’t go that route. I left.
I went to the other side of the world.
I went to go feel fulfilled, fill my calling, my purpose.
It definitely wasn’t just being a mother.
How could I put all my sense of purpose into making him shower, making dinner, cleaning the dishes, reading the bedtime story, and taking him to school?
I felt so dead. But those darn hormones. Somehow we are wired to unconditionally love and adore our kids, even if they suck us dry.
Do I sound bitter?
Actually, I don’t live with my child.
He lives in France, 11 years old. I left France when he was 8 because no matter how much I adored him, I wanted to die.
I struggled making enough money to have a decent house.
I was constantly running around left and right teaching yoga, giving a class, social engagements, I was soooo busy. I didn’t have time in my headspace for a child that needed me.
And, he is about the most brilliant amazing child anyone can have. (I know, I’m biased).
One day, life was ok. The next day, I was utterly depressed.
I won’t write a 200-page novel, but it happened that I found myself in San Francisco for 6 weeks in 2017 for a somatic movement and expressive arts therapy training.
The second I arrived in SF, every cell in my body SCREAMED “I HAVE TO BE HERE!”
My son’s father (he is French, we are separated since my boy was 3.) said “ok, you can go. But you can’t take my son with you.”
I decided to try 6 months. And now 3 and a half years later, I’m still here.
And thus, my reality is, my heart can only handle not seeing my son for a maximum of two months.
After 2 months it becomes agonizingly painful.
I used to break down at random moments if I would even see a child his age. I’d have to run to the bathroom where I would crumble to the floor and wail uncontrollably.
So, I live two parallel lives. One as a mom in France every two months for 2-4 weeks and as a single wild woman who lives in Bolinas next to the ocean.
And you know what. Now, when I see my son, I savor every second.
I love going to be demolished by him on the soccer field as I run after the ball, my heart pounding out of my chest.
I love eating dinner with him.
I love waking up to take him to school.
I love doing homework.
I love almost crashing as he urges me on the bumpy trails as I attempt to do off road biking with him.
And we get to have adventures together. We travel together. He comes to visit me. We go on road trips. I take him to Bali, Portugal, Italy, etc… We have fun together.
What’s the point?
What’s the point?
Today is Mother’s Day and as I long to hold him and squeeze his sweet little cheeks, he’s not here. I’m not there.
And I know in my heart that this deep sadness is mixed with gratitude and joy. For the gift I get to have each time I see him.
I know the pain and beauty of love that hurts and fills me to overflow.
I feel his hug in my cells, and I smile with a sense of longing and a sense of stillness, because I know, I’m in the right place. I’ve made the right decision. I get to live both lives. Being a mom. And being a wild woman.
I know some of you are mom’s, some are not. (and...some of you are father’s)
I think there is no right way to be a good mom. I know we can question ourselves and feel like we aren’t doing it right or we’re not giving enough, or we give too much.
I guess, with this long story, I just want to honor you.
Because it’s not easy, it doesn’t always seem to pay off, but we never count what we give. For those of you who stick to it, who are full time, hats off to you. For those who are part time or not even sure if you want kids, hats to you too.
I just want to say, there are a million different variants and we must all find our way.
Happy Mother’s Day. To all you mom’s who are still finding your way.
Carly
a 1 min. gift to honor all mother’s.