Guilt is a Cattle Prod
Stepmoms have many things in common: fear, insecurity, doubt, gray hair, wrinkles, nervous stomachs, a head that amazingly stays in tact instead of exploded despite our stifled screams. Been there? Yes, stepmothering can be a unique joy, but there are also times when it brings us another universal feeling -- guilt.
Why is this role so heavy? Why are our feelings so complicated, holding us tolerant and relatively sane one moment and rocking us on the floor in pangs of guilt the next? I don't know all the reasons, but I believe much of it stems from our over-developed sense of duty and our highly-developed urge to make things better.
We do our best for our stepkids, with or without their awareness or appreciation, with or without their mom's approval or assistance, with or without their dad's understanding or acknowledgement. We do our best, but we get tired, we get hurt, and we feel that nomadic desire to run away, to be free of it all, to be without them. It's a feeling with a high price tag.
Sometimes we feel guilty when we're happy about any reprieve from the pressure to be so great, when our stepkids aren't a fixture in our homes and we like it, when we can pretend even for a moment that they don't impose on our lives. We do our best, and despite any success or genuine caring, we feel guilty when all we want to be is a wife instead of a "second wife," when we want what we have but just not all of it. That guilt is perhaps a stepmom's cross to bear, but instead of a yoke too heavy to carry, perhaps we can look at it as a cattle prod to make our lives better.
Guilt is a feeling we can't deny, and we shouldn't. It's understandable to feel the way we do because sometimes real situations in our lives have led to us feel the way we do. So instead of beating ourselves up because of how we feel, let's look at the situations that come first. Maybe if we can see them in a different light or understand them better, we can prevent the guilt from overpowering us to begin with. It's worth a shot.
A stepmom wrote about this feeling a few days ago here, and I'm sure you'll appreciate her honest and sincere post. She's trying to learn from her situation, and I hope these few tips here will help us learn from ours, too, whenever we're fighting the Guilt Monster of Stepmother Land, because she's one tough cookie.
1. Perfection is highly over-rated. Sometimes we feel guilty because the world we live in [or those step-people in our world] make us think we have to be perfect, to make this second life perfect, to do everything right because of all we've done wrong. No. When you feel yourself in one of those situations that "demands" perfection, give yourself permission to be, oh, I don't know, human.
Don't over-analyze your performance or critique your every move. Strive for better than last time, and allow yourself to accept that. Being a "good stepmom" isn't about being perfect or spending every waking moment trying to make your stepkids' lives better. It's about coming into their lives as the unique person you are to love them and support them -- and perhaps because of the mess steplife can get to in a heartbeat, teach them how to overcome failures and disappointments with an attitude of integrity and the willingness to learn from your mistakes. We model best by looking forward, not by looking infallible.
2. Meltdowns happen for a reason. Maybe your guilt is trying to tell you something, that you're overloaded, near a breaking point, worn out. Maybe you need a time-out. Nobody can be "on" all the time. Nobody can hold up the world day after day, and sometimes that's what we feel like we're doing.
Then when we stumble, we don't look at the debris in front of us but instead at the delicate balance that might shift if we tilt too far one way. But the world won't end if we back off for a second, if we avoid some difficult situations, if we take a moment to breathe by ourselves. Sometimes we just ask too much of ourselves, and then if we trip, the guilt falls on top of us. Ask for less, at least some of the time.
3. Not everybody can sing. I wish I could sing, but I can't. I can't cook either. Or speak another language. Or understand a computer's fickle personality. I could go on, but you get the point. We can't be good at everything. And that's ok. But we're all good at something. Learn where you shine as a stepmom and put as much of your energy there as you can.
Sure, we have to do the things we're not so great at, too, but we can do them the best we can and move on, finding security and validation in the things we do do very well. We can learn to look at the "singing" as just part of the role and accept our limitations there. We can learn to see the guilt-producing "I'm not in love with my stepkids" feeling coming and prepare for it. It doesn't make us any less responsible, any less diligent about their care, any less of their stepmom, but it makes us appreciate more the days we just "love them to pieces" as my grandmother says. Don't worry about the singing, just hum and move on.
Guilt is powerful. Let it teach you something useful, let it guide you with a better approach to difficult times. Don't kick yourself when you're down, just look around for the biggest block of stepmom wisdom you can find and climb up on it. You're one tough cookie, too.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Eleven Things...
Eleven years ago tomorrow, September 6, I became a stepmom. Wow, that's a sentence I never expected to write. But it's not like stepmotherhood is something we plan, is it? What sane person would ever do that?? What air-breathing, chocolate-eating, logic-appreciating human would ever deliberately set herself up for life in looney-toon land?? And yet, here we are.
And what we learn about here in steplife reads like a college catalog -- psychology, economics, history, politics, child development, statistics, diplomacy, religion, geography and physics. I think you'd agree, it's an education unlike any other. So in the spirit of my eleventh anniversary, here are eleven things I've learned as a stepmom:
1. It's not the heat, it's the humidity. If you've ever even breathed (or tried to) here in the South, you know what I mean. The temp may be 90 or so, but with a hundred percent humidity, you have to chew the air. It's awful. The crisis I'm facing in my steplife may be bad, like a 90+ day, but I make it worse when I view it through the stifling humidity of my own fears. I need to take it for what it is and deal with that, not add to the problem with an insecure approach.
2. I don't have to know everything. Eleven years ago, I was the biggest control freak stepparenthood had ever known. I'm reformed now, sort of. I had to -- the world kept spinning around me without my blessings or knowledge! The very idea! But what originally felt like a popped balloon I couldn't catch turned out to be ok. What I do have to keep up with is enough. Let somebody else worry about everything else.
3. Questions are good when I do need to know everything. Being a control freak (even a reformed one) can make you a bit of a . . . know-it-all. I know. Wouldn't everyone else have to believe my approach was best? Can't I just give the orders and get on with it? Well, no. There's no such thing as too many questions, but there's a real big, live *oops* coming when I assume I always know what's going on. There are just too many variables to leave anything to chance.
4. Whispers are more powerful than yells. The average stepmom has to say probably about 16 gazillion words every week. There's just so much to explain, so many points to make clear, so much of ourselves to defend! And it's easy to believe that volume will equal understanding. Not so. Fewer words at a quieter, even whisper-like level will get someone's attention sooner, maybe because they have to focus to understand instead of just adding your babble in with the television or stereo. The more calm, measured and deliberate my speech, the more everyone seems to listen, even kids.
5. I have to sleep with me. Regret makes a lumpy pillow, and avoiding stupid choices is the best road to take, but making amends as soon as possible when I do go the wrong way makes living with myself a little easier -- and that's a chore even on a good day. Thinking smart and acting well at the beginning is always best, and seeking forgiveness when I don't follows closely behind.
6. I only have to sleep with me. I can't control anybody else's stupid choices, so I need to keep my focus on my own. If somebody else explodes like a shaken-up can of Coke, that's their problem. I don't have to join them in their meltdown. Perhaps I can even be a model of lessons learned -- the hard way, of course, but still. Imagine: me, a model of restraint and integrity. Wow, didn't see that one coming.
7. I can't fix everything. Well, I was certainly going to eleven years ago! I can remember telling my husband, "I can fix that," whenever he'd have a problem with one of the boys or their mom. Guess how successful I was? What was I thinking?? It's not that I didn't try, and most of that trying meant taking the blame on myself and trying to move heaven and earth to get things like I thought they should be. It's laughable now, but taking on that responsibility no one should assume caused me a lot of pain and of course, grief, when I failed.
8. I can fix some things. I may have failed at trying to fix everything, but I learned pretty quickly how I could make at least some things better. The original target of the phrase "lighten up" must have been me. When I stopped trying to analyze everything to death, when I learned to forgive and seek forgiveness quickly, when I learned to learn from something instead of beat myself up over it -- AND THEN LET IT GO -- a lot of things got better. I learned that my best was good enough. I learned to offer what I had to a situation and build on my successes. I learned to fix what I could and worry less about what I couldn't.
9. Patience is a plant. I may be the most impatient person on the planet but I've learned how to grow a little of the stuff now and then. You have to start small, you have to save the seeds and replant again next year, and you have to tend the crop well. Then you'll have a harvest that will sustain you when the other bounty is scarce. Family ties come slow sometimes and old wounds need years to heal. That's ok. I've learned to be grateful for the harvest I have while I wait on something else to grow.
10. Rest is as essential as air. I exhausted myself through a lot of years of stepmotherhood and lived what a heavy load with a quick pace can do to you. I needed to rest -- my body, my mind, mostly my heart. I didn't know how for a long time, too afraid to release my grip because . . . if I'm not working this hard every moment, oh, no . . . what'll happen to my life..?? What I learned is that it goes on, and if I'm rested and better able to deal with it, it'll go on even better. A rested and renewed heart is much less likely to become a robbed and resentful heart.
11. There's not an answer for everything. Some parts of steplife just don't make any sense. You can't change other people, you can't create relationships between other people, and you can't make other people love you or always see things your way. Maybe there's not an answer for every complication, but there's always tomorrow to see what happens, to see if you discover a new understanding or approach. And there's always today to do the best you can and leave the bigger questions to Someone else. Pray a lot.
What have you learned?
**Be sure and stop by on Monday, the 10th, when I'll post this month's issue of The Stepparenting Journey. Thanks!
And what we learn about here in steplife reads like a college catalog -- psychology, economics, history, politics, child development, statistics, diplomacy, religion, geography and physics. I think you'd agree, it's an education unlike any other. So in the spirit of my eleventh anniversary, here are eleven things I've learned as a stepmom:
1. It's not the heat, it's the humidity. If you've ever even breathed (or tried to) here in the South, you know what I mean. The temp may be 90 or so, but with a hundred percent humidity, you have to chew the air. It's awful. The crisis I'm facing in my steplife may be bad, like a 90+ day, but I make it worse when I view it through the stifling humidity of my own fears. I need to take it for what it is and deal with that, not add to the problem with an insecure approach.
2. I don't have to know everything. Eleven years ago, I was the biggest control freak stepparenthood had ever known. I'm reformed now, sort of. I had to -- the world kept spinning around me without my blessings or knowledge! The very idea! But what originally felt like a popped balloon I couldn't catch turned out to be ok. What I do have to keep up with is enough. Let somebody else worry about everything else.
3. Questions are good when I do need to know everything. Being a control freak (even a reformed one) can make you a bit of a . . . know-it-all. I know. Wouldn't everyone else have to believe my approach was best? Can't I just give the orders and get on with it? Well, no. There's no such thing as too many questions, but there's a real big, live *oops* coming when I assume I always know what's going on. There are just too many variables to leave anything to chance.
4. Whispers are more powerful than yells. The average stepmom has to say probably about 16 gazillion words every week. There's just so much to explain, so many points to make clear, so much of ourselves to defend! And it's easy to believe that volume will equal understanding. Not so. Fewer words at a quieter, even whisper-like level will get someone's attention sooner, maybe because they have to focus to understand instead of just adding your babble in with the television or stereo. The more calm, measured and deliberate my speech, the more everyone seems to listen, even kids.
5. I have to sleep with me. Regret makes a lumpy pillow, and avoiding stupid choices is the best road to take, but making amends as soon as possible when I do go the wrong way makes living with myself a little easier -- and that's a chore even on a good day. Thinking smart and acting well at the beginning is always best, and seeking forgiveness when I don't follows closely behind.
6. I only have to sleep with me. I can't control anybody else's stupid choices, so I need to keep my focus on my own. If somebody else explodes like a shaken-up can of Coke, that's their problem. I don't have to join them in their meltdown. Perhaps I can even be a model of lessons learned -- the hard way, of course, but still. Imagine: me, a model of restraint and integrity. Wow, didn't see that one coming.
7. I can't fix everything. Well, I was certainly going to eleven years ago! I can remember telling my husband, "I can fix that," whenever he'd have a problem with one of the boys or their mom. Guess how successful I was? What was I thinking?? It's not that I didn't try, and most of that trying meant taking the blame on myself and trying to move heaven and earth to get things like I thought they should be. It's laughable now, but taking on that responsibility no one should assume caused me a lot of pain and of course, grief, when I failed.
8. I can fix some things. I may have failed at trying to fix everything, but I learned pretty quickly how I could make at least some things better. The original target of the phrase "lighten up" must have been me. When I stopped trying to analyze everything to death, when I learned to forgive and seek forgiveness quickly, when I learned to learn from something instead of beat myself up over it -- AND THEN LET IT GO -- a lot of things got better. I learned that my best was good enough. I learned to offer what I had to a situation and build on my successes. I learned to fix what I could and worry less about what I couldn't.
9. Patience is a plant. I may be the most impatient person on the planet but I've learned how to grow a little of the stuff now and then. You have to start small, you have to save the seeds and replant again next year, and you have to tend the crop well. Then you'll have a harvest that will sustain you when the other bounty is scarce. Family ties come slow sometimes and old wounds need years to heal. That's ok. I've learned to be grateful for the harvest I have while I wait on something else to grow.
10. Rest is as essential as air. I exhausted myself through a lot of years of stepmotherhood and lived what a heavy load with a quick pace can do to you. I needed to rest -- my body, my mind, mostly my heart. I didn't know how for a long time, too afraid to release my grip because . . . if I'm not working this hard every moment, oh, no . . . what'll happen to my life..?? What I learned is that it goes on, and if I'm rested and better able to deal with it, it'll go on even better. A rested and renewed heart is much less likely to become a robbed and resentful heart.
11. There's not an answer for everything. Some parts of steplife just don't make any sense. You can't change other people, you can't create relationships between other people, and you can't make other people love you or always see things your way. Maybe there's not an answer for every complication, but there's always tomorrow to see what happens, to see if you discover a new understanding or approach. And there's always today to do the best you can and leave the bigger questions to Someone else. Pray a lot.
What have you learned?
**Be sure and stop by on Monday, the 10th, when I'll post this month's issue of The Stepparenting Journey. Thanks!
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