I woke up this morning with the need to write. While sipping my morning coffee, all sorts of ideas crossed my mind on what today's post would be about, but once I opened my computer, I just stared at the blank screen with a blank mind. That's not usually how this blogging thing goes for me. I often wake up with an idea, or a topic, or even a title, and I get busy. This morning, however, there are so many topics floating through this head of mine, it's hard to clear out the clutter and know where to begin.
The first topic that crossed my mind was a piggy-back on my last post of letting go of control. I was thinking about Radical Acceptance and how lately it's been a struggle for me. Just when I think I have completely and totally accepted something, I find myself ruminating about it again, and getting stuck.
Then I thought about how Mother's Day is tomorrow, and writing to celebrate both of my mothers. I thought about this being a post about the deep love and gratitude that I have for these magnificent women,
Now here's something interesting that just happened. As I was in the middle of typing this blog, my computer started underlining everything I am writing in bold red, as if I am spelling everything wrong, or have some massive run-on sentence happening. (That's not completely rare...for me to have run-on sentences) Maybe this is my computer's way of saying "Girl, this isn't what you are supposed to be writing about!" So maybe this is a sign. That's what I'm going to take it as.
I'm staring at the screen, trying to figure out what I need to do to fix this problem, I'm distracted by all this red, underlining every word and sentence I write. I'm feeling frustrated, and now judging myself, and wondering if this is going to be the worst blog I've ever written. "When people read this Kate, it's not going to make any sense. They can't see the red lines. This is just going to be a mish mosh of terribly written, unconnected words."
Maybe, this is supposed to be a blog about the unseen.
When people hear my recovery story, or sometimes a story about myself or my life, I often get the response of "I never would have known!" or "I can't see you as depressed or unhappy, you are always smiling!" or "You struggle with being invalidating and judgmental?" Yes. Yes I do. Underneath the exterior that I project, is a girl who constantly questions, analyzes, and judges what I put out there. As much as I work on letting go and radically accepting what is, there is a sliver within me that wants to hold on, even if it doesn't serve me well.
I am still in the process of learning the balance. I teter between being incredibly proud and confident of who I am, who I have become and who I strive to be, and beating myself up for my faults. I see-saw back and forth between loving myself to the fullest, and being unsure if I am my most authentic self. I look inward for answers, and I look outward for approval and guidance.
In DBT, one of the assumptions we have is that people are doing the best they can, and people want to do better. We also believe that change only happens when the person wants to change. In writing this blog what I realize is that I can fully accept that I am doing the best I can, and I DO want to do better. I also realize that what I want to change, is the unseen. I guess this brings me back to the beginning of this post. Radical Acceptance. In order for me to change what no longer serves me, I must radically accept that I am doing the best I can, and I will continue to do better.
This also brings me back to Mother's Day...to honor the two moms who have loved me and encouraged me no matter where I was in my life. To the two women who have always loved me for exactly who I was in any given moment, and who have pushed me, whether they were aware or not, to be the best version of myself. To the women who looked past what others could not see, and who showed me how to look at things I could not see in myself.
To Mom, who passed down to me this incredible gift of writing and being expressive, who taught me that giggling at myself is imperative, and who is always impressed with my smallest accomplishments, even when I cannot see them...I thank you and honor you.
To Mamaria, who, no matter how disappointed I was in myself, taught me that disappointment is the place where you learn to forgive and become a better human being. Thank you for encouraging me to look deeper within myself and for helping me find myself when I was lost. And thank you for giving me a love for laundry that hardly anyone understands.
I'm still staring a full screen of words underlined in red, and I'm totally okay with it. It inspired me to let go of judgments and just keep going.