What are you afraid of?

I looked at the cave opening filled with crystal clear water.  My snorkel mask felt like it was suffocating me already.  My stomach lurched like a freight train coming to an emergency stop as I jumped into the water.  I had to make a choice: let my fear overcome me or have a once in a lifetime experience.  

Everyone's afraid of something.  In fact, we're all afraid of so many things.  Some, we know, like my fear of water.  Those ones are able to be fought because we recognize them.  Our rational minds can consciously fight them, because we are aware of them.  They are blatant, and we know that most of the time they're irrational.

But, what about all those deep-seated fears we live in that we can't even see? It's those ones which are most dangerous, because they are born from biases we may not even know we have.  Those are the ones that cause us to hurt ourselves and others.  My fear of water will not hurt me or any other person.  It may be annoying, and a hindrance to me, but it isn't harmful.  But, our deep, bias-filled fears are only harmful.

I think prejudice, discrimination and hate all stem from this fear.  It is the fear of the unknown.  It is the fear of "otherness", fear of change, fear of being wrong.  It is the fear that our own ideas of how the world works will be shattered if we entertain anything we don't understand.

I recently participated in an interview about Pride and what it means to me (which you can see during Calgary's Pride Week starting next Monday - (https://www.facebook.com/GlobalCalgary/videos/1161304070693112/), and this post is the premise I left with: that fear is what causes people to discriminate against LGBTQ+ individuals, and all of those who we find different from ourselves; that and lack of education, empathy and compassion.

These kinds of fears are so, so destructive.  They not only destroy ourselves, but the world around us.  Look at war.  Look at racism.  Look at laws that prohibit women from human rights.  Look at people who are put to death for being gay.  Look.  These things may feel far away from life as we know here and now, but assuredly they exist today.  And, they exist here, more than you may see.

I grew up with whispered rhetoric that was disparaging toward many people (but accepted as normal, and therefore not discriminatory because that's just the way it was) against - Indigenous, LGBTQ+, women, immigrants, People of Colour.  It was subtle, discreet and deeply ingrained in "white" culture.  It was subconscious.  It was disgusting.  It caused me to be afraid of those who were different from me without knowing why.  It was, is and will always be destructive.  We can do better.  We must do better. We don't even know or see these deep biases.

So, what are you afraid of?  Change?  Progress? A society that lives in equality, thus causing our comfortable hierarchy to crumble?

There is some truly deep work to be done here in order to uproot these fears.  I don't know that we will ever get there, but we must work.  There is just this one life we can be really sure of, so I'd rather live it free from the destruction my fear causes.  That's a choice that must be made daily.  Face the fear of things that are unknown, things that are "other", and allow things to move forward.  Change.  Be a champion of stamping out fear.  Listen to others.  See others.  See yourself for who you are, the good and the bad, and reinvent that deep, inner dialogue that destroys.

Finding Worth in Oneself

My partner asked me the other day if I ever feel insecure.  My answer: In what?  Because I feel insecure about everything at one point or another. If you've been reading my blog, you know that I've struggled with insecurity about my body, my eating, and even my parenting.  I feel this is the normal course of being a woman.  These are things ingrained in us.

Should insecurity be ingrained?  Should this be a part of our inner selves?  Well it is, whether we like it or not.

I often say that I am my own worst critic.  Most people are.  I am so hard on myself.  I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm a perfectionist, but I do expect a certain standard of myself, and it's really hard when I don't live up to what's in my head.  So, do I ever feel insecure?  Hell yes.  But not because of your judgement - because of mine.

I suspect I care less about what you think of me than what I think of myself.  I lived a lot of my life worrying about what others thought of me and that way of thinking becomes tiresome.  I do, however, judge myself against others, and the ideal that I perceive I should reach, and therein lies the root of whatever insecurity I feel that day.

My laundry list of insecurities looks like: Am I a good enough parent?  Am I being the example I want to set for my daughters?  Did I teach to my best today?  I am not a good parent.  I am not a good teacher.  I am failing my children and students.  Am I a loving, giving and thoughtful partner?  I am not as thoughtful as she is.  I cannot give as much as she does.  Am I a good friend?  I am often aloof.  I don't call anyone, ever.  Am I as happy as I should be?  I have many down days.  I struggle with anxiety.  I'm also insecure about my writing, and I often look back on my posts and feel them to be trite and trivial.

But I don't say any of this because I want sympathy, or for responses to these.  That's because it's all my inner self-critic and it has absolutely nothing to do with others!  I think a part of my harshness on myself pushes me forward, pushes me to be better.  And, that is a good thing.  But sometimes these things cross the line and I end up in destructive mode as opposed to being motivated.

All that said, I have a fairly healthy self-esteem, and I can often answer yes to my inner critic and feel pretty good about myself and how I conduct my life.  Just because I am not totally secure doesn't mean I have less worth, or that I am not good enough.  When I do feel insecure, I can't look outside to fix it.  I need to turn inward, and tell myself the truths I know but sometimes don't feel.

My truths are: I am a good parent.  My daughters are happy, healthy, decent humans.  I am a good teacher.  My students learn, grow and achieve.  (They like me, most of the time too.) I am a good partner, and I have a lot to give. I am a good friend.  I love my friends fiercely and give them what I have.  I am happy, despite my struggles.  I live a full, wonderful life.  I am a good writer.  My words are neither trite nor trivial, and on top of that, they are true. 

So, am I ever insecure?  A resounding yes!  But, that doesn't mean that I'm not okay, or worthy, or acceptable.  I am all of these things.  We are all of these things.  My positive words should outweigh my negatives, and this helps me to move forward.  A little insecurity is actually a good thing, and it doesn't have to cut you down.  It can't change your worth.

Body Un-Image

Body Un-Image

When's the last time you looked in the mirror and liked what you saw?  I've wrestled with my image since I can remember.  But haven't we all?  Every woman I know, whether overtly or not, struggles with their own self-image.  I've written about this topic more times than I can remember and this post, apparently, is no exception.

We are programmed to find ourselves unacceptable.  We see images of what we 'should be', what is good, beautiful and acceptable.  We fight it, and our minds tell us we are worthy, we are beautiful and we are acceptable, but the bombardment of what we should be is always lurking behind our best intentions, like a sinister devil on the shoulder putting negative words in our minds.  The strong self can often hold the shadows at bay, but eventually the shadows crack our armor.

That's because the cracks come from within.  The shadows lurk on the inside of us, not the outside.  They've been bred into us from birth, by the fact that we silently, unwittingly fall into predetermined gender roles and rules about how we should present ourselves to the world.   Think about how you role played as a child.  Think about the movies, cartoons, toys.  Think about the colors you wore and the clothing that was available to you.  We have silently perpetuated the shadows, and now they live within.  What's within is what comes out in advertising, fashion, and the patriarchal society we still fight against.

So, if what is within is reflected on the outside and made manifest in society, what can we do but beat our heads against the wall in futility? It all starts with the individual and then spreads through the rest of us.  Perhaps, if we all do our small part, maybe we can affect some kind of change.

First, we must change on the inside.  We must change the way we think.  We must change the way we talk to ourselves.  We must change the way we present the world to our children.  We must stop sabotaging ourselves.

I'm the prime example of a self-saboteur.  I've lost 20 pounds and I promised myself the last time I lost a lot of weight that I wouldn't allow myself to go back.  But, I did.  And I hated myself for it.  I'm trying to untangle my twisted relationship with negativity by replacing the searing thoughts with praise for what I've accomplished.  But, why do I need to lose weight in the first place?  What I tell myself and everyone else is that I want to live longer, healthier, and happier.  However, could my real motivation be from the norm that my gender is subject to?  When I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, when I see a photo of myself in a bathing suit, I judge.  I find all my faults.  I see that even though I've lost 20 pounds, I am still not at the standard of beauty society holds me to - the standard I hate that I also accept and embrace.  I have this constant, gross battle going on inside my head.

"You are beautiful no matter what size you are."

"You're still 30 pounds heavier than you should be."

"You have come so far, and you are so healthy."

"You have so far to go, and you're not there yet."

"You have only one body, and you're going to treat it well and live in it for a very long time."

"Your body is always going to be unacceptable, no matter what you do."

UGH.

I am tired of this.  Aren't you?  How can we break this cycle? Here it is - we must stand up against our inner shadows, and the ones that still bombard us from outside.  It's time to reprogram our thinking.  Instead of a negative, replace it with several (I mean, quite a few, because it takes that many to cancel out the negative) positives.  I know that I am worthy, and beautiful and acceptable.  I don't have to let anyone else, including the entirety of the patriarchy, tell me that I'm not.  Only I can allow that.  Only I can set my value.  There is not another living soul who can do that.

So here it is - my battle is yours.  We are all in this together.  By writing this, I wrestle with my own demons, in hopes that others can overpower their own.

So next time you look at yourself in the mirror and find yourself unacceptable, remember that you are the only one who can change that.  You must reprogram your inner dialogue and replace the negative thoughts with more powerful positives.  Here are mine:  I am beautiful.  I am healthy.  I am being proactive about my health, and that is the best thing I can do for myself.  This body really is the only one I will ever get, so I better treat it well, and love it.  Inner saboteur, go fuck yourself.

When I have nothing to say.

I've been suffering with a serious lack of something to say.  I've got three half finished blog posts that have gone completely unpublished.  I've got an inkling of an idea bouncing around inside my head like a lopsided rubber ball, and I just can't get it all out.  So.  I thought I should write about the fact that I have nothing to say!

I have been off work for a few weeks, and you'd think that would give me a ton of time to iron out my convoluted thoughts.  Apparently not.  Do you ever get the sensation that you're banging your head against the wall?  I feel like this, utterly and completely.  Every so often, the impact will knock a word or two loose, but none of them can be strung together into a coherent thought.

Why, why, why?

Here's my self-diagnosis (what a narcissistic thing this can be...).  I haven't had a moment to recharge.  I am a total introvert and I spend a very long time inside my head on a daily basis.  That generally takes place during my long commute to and from work every day, and at the end of the day when I can grab savored moments to myself during a long walk or something quiet.  On vacation, I am busy having fun (oh the horror!) and not so busy being quiet.  Quiet is my fuel, and fun, apparently, my kryptonite. Ha!  How ridiculous is that?

I love spending time with friends, family and my children.  I love laughing, engaging in good conversation.  I love long days with amazing people.  But all of these things take a lot out of me.  They leave me with random rubber ball words that make no sense, until I take a few moments to sink in to the rapture of quiet.

Isn't it a strange thing, that when I partake in my quiet, the words come out?  Isn't it a strange thing that as an introvert, I relish in publishing my thoughts?  Such a contradiction. But isn't life a series of hilarious contradictions?  Like, doing nothing makes me flourish.  Like, when I sit in the dark, things come alight?

I've been learning a lot about personality traits like introversion and extroversion in the past few years, which has deepened my knowledge about myself immensely.  However, I still forget sometimes.  I often to get to a place where I find myself short-tempered, irritated by things that don't usually ruffle my feathers and generally unhappy.  Then, every time, it hits me that I haven't spent any time alone in days, and I see my solution.  It's my solution, every time.

How easily we get wrapped up in ourselves and forget ourselves at the same time.  Again, hilarious contradictions.  Life.

On Being a Young Woman

"Slut."

"Whore."

"Cunt."

"She's only hanging out with you because she wants your dicks."

"You're so skinny.  Are you anorexic?"

"Are you a boy?"

And other expletives and remarks she doesn't want to tell me about or repeat.

This is the constant barrage of comments that my thirteen year old daughter has faced in her seventh grade year at school.  Do you remember words like these, when they pierced your hearts and broke your fragile self esteem?  Do you still carry the cuts and wounds left behind by words like this in your formative years?  Do your scars show in your daily life now?  I know mine do.  More often than not, they take the form of self-loathing and self-imposed body shaming - that age old feeling of not good enough.

And now, my first of two daugters, a strong, smart, beautiful young woman coming into her own, must deal with the same.

I once hoped society could change.  That my generation was going to parent their kids better.  That my generation would teach our girls to walk in their power and the boys not to be intimidated by powerful women, but to stand powerfully together as humans.  I feel the sense of optimism I used to have vanish with every single story my daughter tells me.  She has been slut shamed, body shamed and gender shamed.  She has been sexually harrassed.  She has had an attempt of physical assault on her by a boy (the same damn one) twice in two years.  I thank god every day I have taught her to be strong and unapologetic of her body, mind and strength.

But even the strongest woman can be whittled down to nothing. And so I sit here with my "what ifs", and she comes back at me with her "I'm strong enoughs" and we are at an impasse.  I can't shelter her from the ugliness of the world. and I shouldn't.  I want to protect her from the words that display the fact that patriarchy is alive and well, but I can't.  And I won't.  She will hear worse, and she needs to know how to deal with it.  I have heard worse, and I know there is more to come.  What do I do now? I allow her to be open and honest about what happens, and I don't freak out.  (Inside, I am raging, but on the outside, I must appear in a monk-like calm.) She needs to be able to tell me when people call her a slut or try to shame her because she makes her own choices.  She needs to be able to have a strong woman hear her, listen to her and empower her.

I can't fight her battles for her.  I have to counter these words, these knives spit at her by young men who are afraid of her female power, with words of strength, so she can fight her own battles and stand courageously in the face of adversity.

"You own your body, and no one can take that from you."

"Your power cannot be diminished by anyone but yourself."

"Their words hurt, but they don't have to destroy."

"I am evidence of their inability to retain control of us."

Because, dear daughter, it will get worse.

But....

You are more powerful and you will stand in your power.

And perhaps, when she does, when they all do, the future will be better after all.

My Own Skin

I have always been "a big girl" in my own mind. I may or may not be one in real life.  I'm pretty average for a thirty-something year old woman.  I've gained and lost, gained and lost, and gained again.  I'm in the process of losing again, and really hoping I've got my head around living a sustainable and healthy life.  But through all of this, one thing keeps nagging in the back of my mind.  That thought is that my body is unacceptable to the world, and therefore it is unacceptable to me.  I'll tell you how I know this.

First, as a young woman, I was taught to cover my body up.  I was told, in words and in actions, that my exposed skin was shameful, ugly and dirty.  If I wore a skirt that was too short, it was met with comments about how I would be perceived, whether it made me into an object to boys, or as 'slutty' or cheap.  I stopped wearing skirts.  If it wore a top that showed my stomach, I was told to cover up so as to not invite unwanted attention or advances.  Cover up or someone will hurt you.  (And it'll be your own fault, you know, as sexual assault always is.)

I was also told that my body wasn't good enough.  My thighs rubbed together when I walked.  Why couldn't I just lose a little weight there?  I would look so much better.  My body didn't belong to me.  I was harassed by boys and men alike for the curves I was developing, and so I covered them up.  Baggy pants, baggy shirts, lots of layers - these were my armor.  Cover up or you're open to criticism.  Cover up too much, and you get more criticism. 

My body has done a great many things for me, including keeping me alive and giving two beautiful children to the world.  As an adult, I tried really hard to shut out the world's idea of what my body should be and marveled in what it could do.  It was really eye-opening.  But then came the time when I had to go out, go to the swimming pool, dress up for a function.  Clothes didn't fit well.  They never really had, considering my curves never allowed me to just be one size, but after having kids, it was thrown much more askew.  Wear a two piece bathing suit after having had children and watch the looks you get at the pool.  Yes, I have stretch marks, and my lumps and bumps are hard to hide.  But man did I try to hide them.  The world told me I should, because the only pictures I had ever seen of women in bathing suits were ones who had no lumps and bumps and stretch marks.  Okay, world.  You're telling me to cover up.  I get it. You can turn your incredulous eyes away while I cover up again.  Sorry I offended your idea of what my body should be.

There is nothing in this society that has told me that my body is acceptable.  Not. One. Thing.  It is fodder for criticism everywhere I turn.  Wear something too revealing in your late thirties and you are judged.  Wear something too baggy and frumpy and you are judged.  Show it, hide it, live in it fat or skinny or somewhere in the middle, and you are judged. 

Well, I want to come to a place in my life where I give less fucks about what the world thinks about my body.  I can look hot at size 14 and size 4.  I can push two kids out of my vagina and still have sex appeal, feel attractive and be attractive.  I don't want to care if you, the world at large, find my body unacceptable in a two-piece bathing suit.  I want to feel the sun on my skin.  I want to look in the mirror and understand that my own skin is beautiful.  It tells the story of my life.  It shows me what I am capable of.  It shows me that it can do a great many things if I treat it well, and will continue to be loyal to me to the end.  So, shouldn't I love my own skin too?  Shouldn't I tell the damn world it doesn't own my body, and that it is my gift?  Shouldn't I stop criticizing every lump, bump, curve and mark (as the world is wont to do) and instead see if for what it is?  It is a trophy.  It is a story.  It is a life lived and being lived. 

So, here it is.  This is my resolution.  Stop finding myself unacceptable.  Stop berating myself and let my skin breathe.  Wear what I want, when I want.  Be free of the constraints put on me, woman, by the world.  You can't tell me I am not beautiful.  It is not my fault if you look at me inappropriately.  It is not my fault if you think I don't conform to the aesthetic this world believes in.  Screw you.

Here's to starting to find my own skin acceptable.  Only I get to decide that.

Warm Weather Antagonization

With the onset of delicious, warm, summer weather, I've felt many things.  I've felt that exhilaration a lizard feels when sunning on a rock, that need to open up my petals like the flower lying dormant under the frost of winter, the freedom of my toes as they shed the winter trappings.  All of these things come with the onset of sunshine and warmth.  One thing I didn't anticipate feeling was frustration and anger toward my daughter's school. 

It came with the title, "Request for Parental Support/Dress Code." My oldest daughter is 13 years old.  She dresses comfortably, and I approve 100% of the clothing she wears.  I buy them for her, ergo she has my approval.  She wears tank tops when it is hot.  As do I.  The request began innocuously enough: a short discussion of the fact that her school had a dress code, and the outline of said dress code.  Some points of the code are fine.  Don't wear clothing that promotes drug or alcohol use, sexual innuendos or crude language.  Check.  Fine.  Don't wear headgear that isn't religious in nature.  Sure.  I don't really get why, but okay.  Don't wear halter, tank, thin strap and short "belly" tops.  Hold on.  Wait a second.  Who is this one directed to?  Think about that one for a moment.  This list goes on: sunglasses or distracting accessories, ripped and torn clothing (good luck with that one these days), pajamas and onesies, hats, toques and bandannas (spelled incorrectly, I might add).

This seems like a run-of-the-mill dress code for most schools, and workplaces.  Most of it, though I fail to see its relevance, is harmless.  The fact that my daughter is barred from wearing tank tops on hot days bothers me.  If I am okay sending her out the door in the morning in a tank top, don't you dare send her home or tell her to change.  Are her shoulders so offensive?  For that matter, are mine?  I wear sleeveless tops all the time.  My daughter took issue with this one as well.  In fact, she did a little experiment.  She and a male friend of hers both wore a tank top to school the same day.  The predictable ending:  she was chastised and he was not.  This is where I take exception - the double standard.  I am a teacher, and I would wear a sleeveless, or tank top, to work if it were hot.  I have done so on many occasions. 

Here's the kicker: "Educators are not Victorian prudes, and we did not enter our profession to be fashion police.  However, if required, we will ask our young people to put on more clothes.  If they refuse or if our requests are frequent, we will seek parent support, as we want to get on with the job of teaching and learning..." This is quoted word for word in the document sent to all parents.  Firstly, what must have prompted them to write something so tongue and cheek?  Secondly, how dare you address me, the parent, in that manner?  The blanket statement was obviously motivated by anger or frustration, and is dripping with animosity.  The email ends with talk of a cohesive relationship and thanking parents for their anticipated support.  Simply by using this type of rhetoric, they do not have my support.  I don't care how reasonable they appear to be, they are using language to get a rise out of people, and effectively pitting me against them. 

My support is not given on this one.  Not all of it.  When saying they will ask their young people to put on more clothes, who exactly is this directed toward?  Girls.  100% girls.  And this was backed up by evidence.  My daughter's male friend wearing a tank top was not asked to "put on more clothes," while my daughter was.  She owns no tank tops that show anything more than her shoulders, and they are in no way offensive, nor would they be if there were less material.  It is not the school's place to teach my daughter to hide her body, and be ashamed of her own skin.  It is not their place to tell her that her shoulders are offensive to the teaching and learning environment.  It is not their place to target the girls and not the boys when the warm weather comes along. 

So here's my rant.  This one has taken weeks of mulling around to be ready to put into words.  I know what it's like to teach in a junior high school.  I understand the challenges that come along with all of that.  The last thing a junior high school should do is intentionally antagonize the parents of their learners.  I feel antagonized.