Monthly Archives: May 2016

On being perfect moms before we had kids.

“Come on Ben! You have to toughen up!”

I say this to him after urging him to do his practice math test all morning. I say this after he’s blamed his teacher, math (for being stupid and boring) and me for not feeding him properly. (For the record, I have offered him waffles, latkes and a banana – all of which he’s refused.)

I can see he’s afraid, frustrated he doesn’t understand his homework and knowing he will likely fail his test. My heart goes out to him and I soften, “I’m sorry Ben. I see how frustrated you are. I’m here to help. Just stay in the game.”

But then he lashes out again – “Well if you would just FEED ME or actually HELP ME…” and then I lose it again. “I’ve been trying to help you all morning!!” I shout.

And then he collapses on the couch and looks like an exotic bird, his lips pursed in a frown, his hair dyed bright turquoise in a Justin Bieber-like do. And that’s when I say that regrettable thing about toughening up.

Whose line is that anyway?

I remember an adult saying that same thing to me as a kid and wanting to either crumple in tears or punch them in the face. It’s not a kind thing to say. And Ben, the ultimate truth-teller, says what I wish I would have all those years ago: “What kind of mom tells her son to toughen up?”

I put my hand on my heart this morning as I drove to an appointment. It’s part of a practice my coach assigned me, a way to speak to my heart and listen to what it needs. It’s part of some grief work I am doing right now.

“You are not a perfect mother,” I tell myself. “But you are a good mother. Your heart is good.”

We got through the practice test and Ben and I were able to recover. I learned a new concept recently – repair – which apparently is even more important than trying to make everything smooth all the time. If you can practice the repair, if you can trust there will be time and space and love in that process, then it’s like a bone broken and healed. It will be even stronger for it.

Before I had kids, I would hear people say: My kids are my teachers… and I liked that idea. I imagined them showing me how to be a kid again- how to be present, how to tell the truth, how to move through emotions and not cling to them, how to play. All of which appealed to me. But motherhood has shown me that they also teach us about our shadows.

They show us where we still have healing work to do.
They show us where we need to be more compassionate. Where we judge. Where we need to grow.
They show us that we are capable of making mistakes and saying horrible things and shouting.
They show us that we are the full spectrum of being human – the dark and the light.

This is humbling.

They are our teachers and they are also our healers. Sometimes I wish that wasn’t the case! I love that thing people say about how I was the best parent before I had kids. In fact, I just found an article on this topic that cracks me up.

This is for all the imperfect moms out there. With good hearts and potty mouths. With lots of love and lots of, ahem, healing work to do. ?

 

Photos from Bali + Superhero Photo begins Monday!

Do you see the heart in the smoke above?

One of my great pleasures was teaching some photography while I was in Bali!
It lights me up to geek out about things like how to get that dreamy, blurred background in your photos…

This is one of the many things you will learn in Superhero Photo!

You can join me for 6 weeks of photo lessons + inspiration starting Monday, May 16th.

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P.S. Below is a slideshow from Bali. Get ready for some yummy color!

http://www.andreascher.com/#!bali-retreat-2016/fg72t

 

 

The dark and the light.

There are black and white checkered pieces of fabric wrapped around the trees here. Big swaths of textiles looped around the ancient banyans- limbs like octopus legs reaching out in all directions. The same checkered fabric is wrapped around the alters and carved stone statues. Even the curbs are painted in black and white stripes – a reminder of the light and the dark always being present.

“They’re not afraid of the dark here,” Juna told us that first night. We nodded our heads respectfully. “They hold both with reverence. They don’t suppress the dark or push it away like we do in our culture. They let it live in the light as well. Don’t be surprised if shadow stuff comes up for you here. It means it’s up for healing.”

Maybe it’s because it’s so hot in Bali and we weren’t wearing many clothes, but the old shadowy voices arrived quickly. You’re too fat. You’re getting old. You’re not pretty anymore…. Body shame kicked into high gear. Your face looks puffy. Your thighs are rubbing together. Why were you so confident back home? The truth is that you are ugly, you’ve let yourself go, you’re not disciplined enough.

It’s embarrassing to write these words. I want to suppress this voice, this pain, and leap to the positive. I want to bypass this ugliness. I don’t want you to know this voice is alive in me. They’re not afraid of the shadow energy. They hold it in the light as well.

I admitted to Juna that these voices were coming up, hoping that naming them would help. I stared at her adorable washboard tummy and all her delicious beauty as the words poured out of my mouth. Shame washed over me. I should be over this. I teach classes in personal growth. People see me as confident. I shouldn’t be talking about self-loathing.

This is how we layer shame on top of shame.

“If the shadow pieces are arising for you, that part of you is emerging for healing.”

That’s the word I chose for the week – healing. I chanted to myself softly: Shine a light on this. Hold it with compassion. There is more to heal here. But how? I thought. I don’t want to give more weight to these thoughts. I don’t want to fortify them. Am I created a deeper neuro-pathway? I don’t want to create a deeper groove! Again, it’s tempting to turn away from them and find better thoughts. Am I supposed to do affirmations or something?

My friend Susan traveled with me the following week. We had found a luxurious place to stay in Amed, Bali – one with real air conditioning! and a private pool just for us. I told Susan about the shadow voices and how they weren’t going away. She asked if I had tried to talk to that part, ask it what it wanted to tell me?

Usually this feels corny to me, but I decided to try. I closed my eyes and imagined that part of me, the part that felt ugly and unworthy. “What do you want to tell me?” I asked.

I could see immediately that this part was old and small… and compassion welled in my heart. The answer came quickly: “I’m the part that feels unlovable. I’m the part that’s trying really hard to do everything right and look good so that I’ll be loved. I’m afraid.”

Ohhhhh! I responded. You have it all wrong! Your love-ability has nothing to do with your beauty. It’s about your spirit- not about the lines on your face or how good you look in a swimsuit! I remember you… I know how hard you try. There is nothing wrong with you and you are totally lovable.

It seemed so obvious in that moment. This very young part of me that had collapsed being lovable with being perfect. It seemed like a reasonable coping strategy at the time – do it all right and be adorable and everyone will love you.

Healing happens in spirals and layers… that’s what my friend and mentor SARK says in one of her books. Because I feel better now, it’s tempting to believe that voice is gone, that I’ve somehow conquered it, that it will finally be quiet. I wish that were true!

What is different, is how I relate to that voice. We have befriended each other somehow. By shining the light of attention on it, by trying to understand it, I have offered it a kind of love. I have offered myself a kind of love. The healing is real even if it isn’t linear. I will come back to this moment again and again and again… but I will be somewhere else on the spiral. A layer away.