My Perspective: Stop the Shaming

Well, it’s been all over the news, internet, social media and in my spin class…that woman baring her six pack abs with her three kids.

 

{I hate even adding the photo here, but in case you were living under a rock and didn’t know what I was talking about, here’s a visual.}

 

maria-624x767

 

I have no issue with her really, but her message sucks.

 

First of all she’s a fitness model. Ummmm….yeah COMPLETELY unrelateable to most moms. I don’t personally make money from having six pack abs, but even if I did they wouldn’t look like that. Everyone’s body is different and I’ve NEVER had six pack abs even when I was anorexic.

 

Secondly, at what point do we start shaming each other in order to encourage each other. Even if she wrote something like “If I can do it so can you” it would have been better than “What’s your excuse?”

 

It all goes back to my previous post on the fine line between Fitspiration and Thinspiration. If we are pushing ourselves past our breaking point that isn’t a good thing. It’s this mentality that has tween girls pinning images of rib cages poking through translucent skin and obsessing about thigh gaps.

 

I get a little ticked off {if you can’t tell} about things like this, because as women we just seem to dig the knife in a little deeper with each back handed comment. We can’t seem to stop ourselves.

 

Ladies, for real, this isn’t a competition we are in this together. We might possibly rule the world when we can STOP shaming and START encouraging each other.

 

If you can’t be encouraging then keep your abs and your comments to yourself.

 

Use that energy to start an online support group for women with eating disorders, or encourage your friends on their fitness journey or just be present for your family.

 

You may not get as many twitter followers by portraying a positive message, but you might just inspire someone and that’s better than any social media stat.

 

So let’s stop the shame and start encouraging … because life is too short to be so damn negative.

My Perspective: Divorce and the Adult Child

I’m the product of divorced parents.

 

They divorced when I was around three years old and I don’t really remember much. A couple of memories standout like crying for my mom, and the arguing and yelling.

 

My dad ended up with custody, which was unusual back then. He did his best raising a girl, teaching me to use a drill and mow the grass. Family dinners meant watching the A-Team while eating our Salisbury steak TV dinners.

 

On the weekends I’d visit my mom and we would go to the library. She made pizza with peppers {that I didn’t like}, but she also made maple and brown sugar oatmeal in the morning and that was my favorite.

 

It was my new normal.

 

I didn’t know any different.

 

To me all kids had separate families.

 

Having divorced parents never really impacted my life that much. I wasn’t emotionally scarred or damaged in any way.

 

It had it’s moments. Like going through puberty, and buying my first bra. And in later years I had to make sure everyone had equal visitations during holidays.

 

There were also moments I was grateful, because two sets of parents meant two incomes, and shared expenses.

 

It wasn’t until I had a family of my own that I realized the true impact of being the child of divorce.

 

I have no blueprint for how a marriage should look, or how to raise children with a partner.

 

Easton Family 2012

As the boys get older this lack of guidance becomes more and more apparent and I find myself making up my own rules. Sometimes I fail as both a wife and mother. I’m not looking for a pity party, it’s just a fact. During those moments I regroup and try to make it right. Unfortunately, there may be collateral damage and feelings are hurt.

 

There are days when I’m worried I will relive my parent’s model. Not because my marriage is bad or anything, but because that’s what all the news stories said years ago. They told us {the children of divorce} to not even get married. The statistics are too high, I was destined to walk in my parents footsteps.

 

During the first five years of my marriage, that thought haunted me every day.  I lived in fear that my destiny was already written. Every disagreement festered worry that my husband would leave or I took it as a sign we weren’t meant to be together, because in my head arguments led to divorce.

 

It’s what I saw, and what I lived.

 

However, after eleven years of wedded craziness, I realize this isn’t the case.

 

Wedding Day

In fact, I would say that children from broken homes WORK HARDER at their marriages. We know marriage isn’t rainbows and unicorns all the time, and problems can’t be solved by leaving. We are fighters, always have been. Children from divorced families are tough, we have been there and seen that and we don’t want it for us or our children.

 

I don’t want anyone reading this to think that I’m worried about my marriage. Other than the fact that it would be nice to win the lottery we are doing well. However, within the past year we’ve had over a dozen friends file for divorce. Some with kids, some without, some older, some younger, and some from families of parents married for years.

 

When I found out our first friends were getting divorced I was shocked. Their marriage looked so perfect {from the outside} and their parents weren’t divorced. There were no hints that their lives would lead them down this road.

 

Honestly, for a while I was scared to hangout with them for fear that it was contagious. You know because 20/20 did a study and told me so.

 

But divorce isn’t contagious.

 

On the contrary, when you see the heartache in your friend’s eyes you know you would do anything not to feel that pain. You will dig in your heels and fight for your marriage.

 

Don’t get me wrong, divorce might be the only answer if you are truly in a loveless, abusive relationship. Because life is just way to short for that crap.

 

But don’t let the fact that your husband didn’t read your mind about emptying the dishwasher or going to get milk be the deciding factor.

 

Yesterday, I read a great post by a fellow blogger Meagan Francis, from the Happiest Home. Her advice is priceless, and I took every single word and soaked it in.

 

I may be flying by the seat of my pants on this whole wife and mother gig, but I know I’m going to do my best and be grateful for what I have EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

 

Family

#gratitude40

My Perspective: A Happy Confession {#BTSBTW}

Ok, it’s time for a confession of sorts. A “let’s get real” sort of moment.

 

This is something I RARELY if ever say out loud for fear I might be called a braggart, and I definitely don’t want that title. You can call me crazy, but just don’t call me braggy.

 

I’m sure your waiting with bated breath for this big confession of sorts.

 

Will it be startling?

 

Perhaps.

 

Surprising?

 

Maybe to some.

 

In reality you all will probably say something like “oh, that’s it?”

 

Well, I’m ready with my full on confession.

 

Wait for it.

 

Wait for it.

 

I’m happy.

 

This may or may not be a big deal to you, but to me I feel guilty for being happy.

 

Isn’t it true that misery loves company?

 

People like it when you are relatable and relatable means you sometimes need to be miserable {or at least look it}

 

I know you doubt me right now, but seriously hear me out.

 

Which Facebook post would get the more comments?

 

  1. Wow what a horrible Monday, don’t you just hate Mondays?

 

Or

 

  1. Wow! I rocked that Monday. Kids to school, work done, grocery shopping finished and now I’m off to cuddle with the hubs, bring on Tuesday… I’m ready to rock this WEEK.

 

Ok, so number two may be a little over the top, but you get my point. Sometimes too happy is just too much.

 

So, I’ve been living a secret happy life. It may not have unicorns pooping rainbows, but it’s still pretty awesome.

 

Sure I have sucktastic moments like the next person {see last week}, but here’s the thing overall in my soul when it comes down to what’s REALLY important {hubs, kids, roof over my head and coffee with a side of wine} I’m able to tell those sucktastic moments to suck it.

 

So when you see me rushing through the school hallway running late like usual or defusing a kiddo meltdown, and my bitch face is making an appearance just know that underneath it all I’m smiling a big fatty smile. Because I know this suck storm will pass that eventually life will be good again, and filled with smiles, giggles and nose doinks.

 

Life can hand you a whole bunch of crap {trust me I know}, but it’s time to confess to the world that no matter how much crap I’m standing in I’m still happy, grateful and content.

See mom I do smile!
See mom I do smile!

 

What’s your confession?

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This post was inspired by the Creative Soul Back to School Back to Writing Prompt.