I Give Up

There are days where I just give up. I’m not what everyone wants me to be. I’m not what I expected of myself. Becoming a mom changed my life so drastically, so quickly, so devastatingly that I’m still, now merely adjusting to the ever-changing pattern that is my new life.

I watch other parents enjoying their children. Talking about their routines and how their kid sleeps through the night at 5 months. I look at my kid, food splattered, fussy, squirming. They see the bags under my eyes. They see the trouble I have catching my breath. Behind these tired eyes is a brain that has not stopped calculating things since it was awoken from its bare minimum level of sleep.  It’s risk analyzing, compromising, and falling short.

There are so many different things to measure up to today. My baby eats foods I didn’t mash myself, non-organic veggies and formula. That makes me a bad mom, right? My kid has “screen time” and I don’t always “engage” with her. That makes me a bad mom, right? I lose my temper when she’s been screaming for 30 minutes and I can't figure out why. That makes me a bad mom, right? I never cook anymore, my laundry is in baskets and not folded and put away, my house is a minefield of toys and random baby things. That makes me a lazy mom, right? I choose some days to nap with my child (who only gave me 4 hours of sleep the night before) instead of cleaning my house or doing the dishes. That makes me a lazy mom, right?

I watch my non-children friends go to bars, events and they still invite me. I almost always back out unless it’s kid friendly. Why? We don’t have any family near by. We have no form of “free” babysitting. Whatever event you’re inviting me to it may only be $20 to attend but you need to tack on $50-$60 for babysitting.  This addition pretty much prices me out of being able to go to your event. Plus add on the guilt of leaving my child and add on that I’m still somewhat breastfeeding (what I can produce) so I won’t drink. 

Social media is a joke. It’s not Mother’s Day unless you post about it. It’s not your anniversary unless you announce it. I see people doing cleanses, special diets and posting recipes. Half the time I’m eating some reheated crap over the kitchen sink while my child throws food at me and you want me to switch to Paleo? You think I should try this diet that requires I spend money I don’t have on products or only organic foods or only meat free from hormones? I don’t have time to boil veggies and mash them down into palatable food for my child but you think I have time to make a smoothie for myself ? Or meal prep? Or cook and eat only free range chicken on a bed of organic roasted vegetables? Those that do have diets that they actually stick to I applaud you. Right now if I get any food in my gullet I see it as a win. 

My other mom friends are battling their own routine issues or are working moms equally exhausted at the end of the day or are stay at home moms doing outings while I’m at work and unavailable once I’m free. Some moms seem so much more settled in life than me. They have careers and make decent money while I’m still struggling in the dirt rubbing my two pennies together.  Their children seem to make sense and are almost rational human beings. They have a bedtime routine that works. They don’t have the panic behind their eyes that I do.

There is this insane amount of pressure and new mom guilt. An over abundance of  “do this not that.” A weird amount of comparing one mom to another. This mom is already working out and running marathons. Maybe you should get off the couch. This mom still cooks dinner every night. Maybe you should time manage better. This mom doesn’t leave the house without her hair washed. Maybe you should get up earlier to clean yourself up. Good for those mom. Here’s what I’ve figured out: It’s okay to give up on what is “expected” of you.  To give up on your home looking perfect. To give up on friends that don’t understand the new stress you’re under. To give up on being anywhere on time.  To give up on pristine outfits. To give up on seeing the new releases in the theaters. To give up on being the perfect mother. There is no such thing. 

It’s not okay to give up on your kid or your path as a mother. There is no one correct way to raise a kid and no two kids are exactly alike. You go into parenting with the absolute best intentions and you somehow, someway make exceptions. Give up on whatever you need to so you can adjust your focus to what truly matters now: that screaming rebel child that wants you to pick her up.

5K Bomb - The Joys of Running

When I first started running, I got hooked very easily. There is a lot out there now for beginner runners. Marching to the beat of my own drum, I made up my own training regime and worked towards a 5K trail run 3 months away. I started on the treadmill but then quickly moved to trails once the weather got better. I like trails – no car exhaust, no one could see me, I can even sing out loud and bring my dog without fear. A few weeks before the run I was racking up serious miles – from 5.5 miles to my shortest runs which were now 4 miles. A 5K seemed a piece of cake, a walk in the park, easily accomplished. The day of the race approached.

As true Leila style, I arrived almost too late. Missed warming up and just went for it. For a girl who actively avoids people SEEING her run the race was honestly a nightmare for me. I had a running partner but before the first mile was done she was gone, ahead of me by leaps and bounds. I couldn’t control my heart rate as people passed me. My pace slowed, I saw their steely determination and clenched jaws, I freaked out. My heart pounded in my chest to the point it hurt and I was gasping, wheezing and no matter what I did – lowered my arms, focused on my breath, unclenched my fists, concentrated on deep full breaths – the hammering would not stop. About half way through the run I stopped, walked, shook, almost broke down and cried. I was better than this. I could run 3.1 miles on my WORSE days, 3 miles wasn’t even my short running days anymore.

I started running again but another mile into it a panic attack set it and I stopped to let what I considered “better runners” pass me. The runners were not friendly, they did not say thank you, they didn’t try to encourage me to continue they just glared at me and ran on. I knew my running partner had already finished the race and all I wanted was a redo or at least to be finished. I walked most of the last leg, only beginning to run again when the trail leveled off and I had a good distance between myself and the people in front or behind me. My running friend returned to my side when she saw me near the finish line. I was struggling. I was losing it and the last few feet to the finish line I almost got pushed out of the way by a guy in tight breathable running attire.  

It was embarrassing, it was a defeat and it scared me. It messed with my head. Correction: I messed with my head. All the encouragement in the world is not going to change the fact that I ran a horrible race where my mind took over instead of my capabilities. When you train for something for 3 months, when you attempt to do something YOU KNOW you can do well because you have worked so hard for so long at it and you watch your mind butcher your skill and your training into chopped liver, it’s mentally exhausting. It is a slap in the face.

There is always the easy way out – I could make up excuses. Instead of admitting that the race/ME freaked me out and got in my head, I could throw out excuses. I didn’t sleep the night before, I was dehydrated, I didn’t warm up or stretch, my foot hurt, etc, etc. But that is not what happened.

Instead of letting myself enjoy the run. I forced myself to see it as a competition where everyone was passing me and staring at me and judging me. Instead of enjoying the beautiful sunshine, Pacific NW trees and streams, I tortured myself focusing on the miles to go and how far I’ve gone and if I was done yet.

This race honestly scared me so much I toy with the idea of not running anymore. I loved having a set goal to work towards. The 5K was a great tool to keeping me motivated. However, since races apparently cause me to mentally shit myself, other than setting personal goals the only motivation is me and to be honest she is being a shaking child in the corner who just saw her dog get hit by a car. 

Right now, I feel a lot like my Tutu (grandmother), she fell about a year and a half ago at the age of 89 and broke her hip and had to get hip replacement surgery on her 90^th birthday. She got back to walking very quickly and still walks and swims. She confides in me she is terrified of falling down again and she’s shied away from walking.

Yes, I am over thinking my run, yes I was over thinking the run while I was doing the run and yes I scared  myself. However, the mind is more powerful than the body and no amount of encouragement or “but you finished” is going to change the rule mind over matter. If I have a mental block with running there is no fix, there is no cure, there is no miracle drug or stretch that will work. I can run and tell myself the entire time to enjoy it, but I won’t believe it.

Defeat is a luxury, it is a choice. I’m allowing myself to choose defeat for my first race, but I am holding strong to the belief that I won’t allow myself to quit. I quit too many things out of selfishness and sloth. I refuse to quit something that is healthy for me, something that I enjoy. My plan? To run. Perhaps by myself for a bit. Perhaps I’ll run that same 5K trail to show myself I can. I will sign up for another race. If it turns out I can’t mentally handle a race, then I just won’t do them. It will take me awhile to get my confidence back. It will take a lot of work to figure out why my mind has such a big role in my running. But I’ll get there; believe me I’ll get there, even if I have to run a marathon (by myself) to do it.