Hey Mama,
I see you, head in hands.
Thinking all the thoughts.
Obsessing over every decision.
Especially when it comes to your child.
You are researching, constantly.
Absorbing all the information for health and safety. All the options for quality education.
All of the opinions. So.👏 Many. 👏Opinions. 👏
Some of which are shocking, or worse yet, contradicting.
It’s a bit of shit storm, really.
On second thought, it is an absolute shit storm.
And it just keeps coming.
With each new headline… statistic…. report.
You are trapped inside your own mind.
Comparing each option, real or imaginary.
Both from your perspective, and from that of your child (children).
And you question everything.
You question your decisions, daily. Your emotions, by the hour.
How is your child is feeling? How is your partner is feeling? How has your employer is responded? What about your community?
As you wait anxiously for your school district’s plan.
And that dang news reporter. He or she is perfectly polished, droning on and on about all the things. Heck, you even question his choice of tie, her shade of lipstick.
It’s exhausting.
You’re stuck in an endless hunt for advice. From family, real-life friends, social friends; from experts and masked strangers, standing six feet away, of course.
The judgment you are feeling. Ugh, the freaking judgment.
Just when you start to feel grounded in your decision, on how to handle your child’s education, here comes a critical voice, knocking you off your feet.
And yet, you keep showing up.
You’re like a weather reporter, on assignment, in a category four hurricane.
Standing on the gulf coast, reporting on the hour, every hour.
Heck, you’re Al Roker, circa 2005.
During Hurricane Wilma, bracing against the wind and pelting rain, a colleague trying to anchor your legs.
Literally holding on for dear life.
Getting knocked down, and getting back up just to finish your report. Dreading the next segment.
Yet you show up, hour by hour.
Within the raging storm.
Everyone at home, safe, warm, watching from their favorite comfy chair. Everyone with an opinion.
But here you are, bracing yourself.
You’re leaning in, feet firmly grounded, taking this pandemic on as best as you can. Maybe you have a support system to anchor you. Or maybe you feel isolated in all of it.
What you need most right now is a little reassurance and love.
So today, I share with you a bit of wisdom, a bit of encouragement, from one of my favorite authors, Glennon Doyle.
"The only meaningful thing we can offer one another is love. Not advice, not questions about our choices, not suggestions for the future, just love."
Please know I stand with you, in the storm, and I hold space for you.
And I send love and reassurance.
You are not alone.
This is a rallying cry of love. If you know a fellow mama who is struggling right now, please share this note, and more importantly, share your love.
We are in this together. We are all trying our best.
Let’s hold space for each other, as we put our judgment, our opinions, our unsolicited advice to the side.
If you’re looking for a safe space to process, to think, here are two women who have held space for me:
Glennon Doyle is a badass mama, business owner, thought leader, and philanthropist. The quote shared is from her #1 NY Times Best-Seller, Carry On, Warrior. And if books are your thing, her newest release, Untamed, is an absolute must.
Brené Brown is the queen of vulnerability and all things good. Her book, Daring Greatly, is life-giving. I recently reread Chapter 7, Wholehearted Parenting: Daring to Be the Adults We Want Our Children to Be. And if you love podcasts, check out hers - Unlocking Us.
And just for laughs, watch Al Roker, circa 2005, where he is bracing - and falling - during live coverage of Hurricane Wilma. If you are having a hard day or are trying to explain how you feel right now, this may serve you.
With love,
Katie
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