“Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once; just once, understand.” ~ unknown
I believe that one of the side effects of all that I have been through and all that I love is that I tend to look unceasingly into my life and over analyze so much of it. I find truths and wisdoms and life lessons and shelve them in my soul so as to remember, “oh yeah, that hurts when I do that”, or “right, I love that”. But mostly I have to be careful not to get caught up.
Let me explain;
I have such a deep sense of the “Proclamation of the Family”. I have lived both lives and have been a caretaker for my family and the sole financial supporter. What I would give to be back home and be the homemaker again. I miss it so much but my reality is that I made choices that preclude that from being my life. It’s a simple equation. Divorce does not equal “stay at home” Mom. The reality is, as honorable as a man may think he is, when he gets divorced he doesn’t really care if you are at home with his kids or not, he will complain, (at least most men do) of the support he needs to pay and the courts will enforce your half of the financial responsibility of your children whether you feel it is right or not. The world is not in keeping with the family as the church sees it and expound as the General Authorities do to men understanding the need for them to step up, most men will only meet only the minimum the law requires and still find reasons to complain.
In my case, the financial involvement was so caustic (the last place he could try an exercise control) that the only solution was to take nothing which he gladly agreed too. The price of emotional freedom was well worth it and the sacrifices I make are equally so. The Lord has blessed me a hundred fold through out and I am ever grateful for it but here lies the rub.
Being in the world as a working women forever felt like I was giving a piece of my soul away each day I entered downtown. As much as I have no choice in working because of choices I have made previously the culture of the working world ebbs away like the corrosion of a river bed on the caregiver and women that weeps within me. My divine role is second to the role left to me to meet the financial needs of my children. Though I find great satisfaction in doing a good job, and even with the esteem building that happens by the praise of a job well done there is always a piece of my soul that feels at odds with the divine role I yearn for. The truths here and please understand this, are that this is my perspective and in no way should reflect on what I believe all women should feel. This is my paradigm. This is my world and my vision of it.
There is coldness in the working world that best suits the logical and heartless attributes that a man can bring forward for this environment. A man with attitude and drive is called progressive and assertive; a woman with the same is known as a bitch and is generally hated. Same qualities, different gender. The women I know who have made it to management and executive positions have done so having two personas. The one, working woman who is cold and removed and the second, a side they let few people see of warmth, compassion, and understanding. It’s hard because I admire these women so much, I don’t know how they balance it. I know it’s something I probably could never do.
Working at home is exhausting. Being a mother that stays at home is not easy work either. Sick days don’t happen and the job is 24/7. Put also into play the “perfection” factor that can be an aspect of the culture I am a part of and wow, things get difficult. When I compare my 20 years of home to my almost 10 of working I still can’t decide which is more difficult excepting when you are a single parent and you essentially are both, that is the hardest life for sure; hands down.
So what am I on about?
I felt for a long time that with each journey to the core, each day I worked, I left a piece of my soul there. I was letting the hassle and bustle, the non caring bumper car mentality of the congestion that is downtown get to me. I was slowly losing the nice that was a part of me. I was being overtaken by the injustice of having to work and forego the divine role I yearned for and it was eating me up alive. All the good that was happening, the emotional repair I was preceding through was silently being erased by the conforming to a mentality of selfish disregard that defines the downtown core. I had to find a balance in a world that frowned on its approach. What could I do?
It started simply, with prayer. I would board the train and find a seat, if I was lucky, and I would have my morning prayer. It seemed to take me to a zone of comfort and helped me to contend with an overcrowded pushy environment. I zoned out the congestion and concentrated on those things that I was thankful for. That was another component. My prayers lost the requests and focused solely on gratitude. I did this on the trip home as well. One day, I looked around and there around me, here, there, scattered throughout the car were others who no doubt were doing the same thing whether you call it meditating or communing and yes, there were others who were simply asleep but all of us had found coping mechanisms that were working. This helped immensely.
I started to walk at lunch. First it was about 3 km’s and then 5kms and then I got to 7kms. I love walking in downtown through the Princess Island Park and along the river. The atmosphere is electric and during the summer when the buskers and promoters are there, it gets absolutely fascinating. I tried walking with an Ipod but I couldn’t think and process. I have learned that this time is my self talk session. I work through so much during these walks. The unfortunate thing about this is my Asthma precludes walking about ½ the year. It sucks, literally!
When I can’t walk I have started to pick up books to fill that time. I read and have sought inspiration through words and have found solace in them. I would sometimes read on the train too but mostly I chose to find peace where peace is hard to find. It hasn’t changed the environment it simply changed the Zen of my approach to it. I can’t change others, things, or cultural mentalities but what I can do is change me.
I had a long talk with W this weekend. I had a moment and he was able to help. In the aftermath I told him of my heart and how I felt but what I know and what I explained was that as much as he loves me and wants to care for me, the responsibility of my children lays with me. He would step in, he already has once before but this isn’t his responsibility, it’s mine. I was asked by not just one person when they found out when I got engaged when I was going to quit work but by a number of people. The answer is simple. Not until D is out of college and W and my future is secure. It may take some time but W has added one more aspect to the coping of a world I don’t seem to fit to well in. He is a reprieve at the end of my day.
I only have W on the weekends now. He isn’t moving up full time until the second week of May. I work for Friday when I can get home and feel the security of his embrace and the warmth of his support. Every once in a while I get a Wednesday too. I love those Wednesdays. The world may not be what I thought it would have been 30 years ago or even dreamed of but the world I have now is wonderful and truly a gift. It is the dream I am making it. I love my journey!
Let me explain;
I have such a deep sense of the “Proclamation of the Family”. I have lived both lives and have been a caretaker for my family and the sole financial supporter. What I would give to be back home and be the homemaker again. I miss it so much but my reality is that I made choices that preclude that from being my life. It’s a simple equation. Divorce does not equal “stay at home” Mom. The reality is, as honorable as a man may think he is, when he gets divorced he doesn’t really care if you are at home with his kids or not, he will complain, (at least most men do) of the support he needs to pay and the courts will enforce your half of the financial responsibility of your children whether you feel it is right or not. The world is not in keeping with the family as the church sees it and expound as the General Authorities do to men understanding the need for them to step up, most men will only meet only the minimum the law requires and still find reasons to complain.
In my case, the financial involvement was so caustic (the last place he could try an exercise control) that the only solution was to take nothing which he gladly agreed too. The price of emotional freedom was well worth it and the sacrifices I make are equally so. The Lord has blessed me a hundred fold through out and I am ever grateful for it but here lies the rub.
Being in the world as a working women forever felt like I was giving a piece of my soul away each day I entered downtown. As much as I have no choice in working because of choices I have made previously the culture of the working world ebbs away like the corrosion of a river bed on the caregiver and women that weeps within me. My divine role is second to the role left to me to meet the financial needs of my children. Though I find great satisfaction in doing a good job, and even with the esteem building that happens by the praise of a job well done there is always a piece of my soul that feels at odds with the divine role I yearn for. The truths here and please understand this, are that this is my perspective and in no way should reflect on what I believe all women should feel. This is my paradigm. This is my world and my vision of it.
There is coldness in the working world that best suits the logical and heartless attributes that a man can bring forward for this environment. A man with attitude and drive is called progressive and assertive; a woman with the same is known as a bitch and is generally hated. Same qualities, different gender. The women I know who have made it to management and executive positions have done so having two personas. The one, working woman who is cold and removed and the second, a side they let few people see of warmth, compassion, and understanding. It’s hard because I admire these women so much, I don’t know how they balance it. I know it’s something I probably could never do.
Working at home is exhausting. Being a mother that stays at home is not easy work either. Sick days don’t happen and the job is 24/7. Put also into play the “perfection” factor that can be an aspect of the culture I am a part of and wow, things get difficult. When I compare my 20 years of home to my almost 10 of working I still can’t decide which is more difficult excepting when you are a single parent and you essentially are both, that is the hardest life for sure; hands down.
So what am I on about?
I felt for a long time that with each journey to the core, each day I worked, I left a piece of my soul there. I was letting the hassle and bustle, the non caring bumper car mentality of the congestion that is downtown get to me. I was slowly losing the nice that was a part of me. I was being overtaken by the injustice of having to work and forego the divine role I yearned for and it was eating me up alive. All the good that was happening, the emotional repair I was preceding through was silently being erased by the conforming to a mentality of selfish disregard that defines the downtown core. I had to find a balance in a world that frowned on its approach. What could I do?
It started simply, with prayer. I would board the train and find a seat, if I was lucky, and I would have my morning prayer. It seemed to take me to a zone of comfort and helped me to contend with an overcrowded pushy environment. I zoned out the congestion and concentrated on those things that I was thankful for. That was another component. My prayers lost the requests and focused solely on gratitude. I did this on the trip home as well. One day, I looked around and there around me, here, there, scattered throughout the car were others who no doubt were doing the same thing whether you call it meditating or communing and yes, there were others who were simply asleep but all of us had found coping mechanisms that were working. This helped immensely.
I started to walk at lunch. First it was about 3 km’s and then 5kms and then I got to 7kms. I love walking in downtown through the Princess Island Park and along the river. The atmosphere is electric and during the summer when the buskers and promoters are there, it gets absolutely fascinating. I tried walking with an Ipod but I couldn’t think and process. I have learned that this time is my self talk session. I work through so much during these walks. The unfortunate thing about this is my Asthma precludes walking about ½ the year. It sucks, literally!
When I can’t walk I have started to pick up books to fill that time. I read and have sought inspiration through words and have found solace in them. I would sometimes read on the train too but mostly I chose to find peace where peace is hard to find. It hasn’t changed the environment it simply changed the Zen of my approach to it. I can’t change others, things, or cultural mentalities but what I can do is change me.
I had a long talk with W this weekend. I had a moment and he was able to help. In the aftermath I told him of my heart and how I felt but what I know and what I explained was that as much as he loves me and wants to care for me, the responsibility of my children lays with me. He would step in, he already has once before but this isn’t his responsibility, it’s mine. I was asked by not just one person when they found out when I got engaged when I was going to quit work but by a number of people. The answer is simple. Not until D is out of college and W and my future is secure. It may take some time but W has added one more aspect to the coping of a world I don’t seem to fit to well in. He is a reprieve at the end of my day.
I only have W on the weekends now. He isn’t moving up full time until the second week of May. I work for Friday when I can get home and feel the security of his embrace and the warmth of his support. Every once in a while I get a Wednesday too. I love those Wednesdays. The world may not be what I thought it would have been 30 years ago or even dreamed of but the world I have now is wonderful and truly a gift. It is the dream I am making it. I love my journey!
“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.” ~ Henry David Thoreau
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