Surviving Jealousy

I am friends with the most amazing people.  I don't mean they are amazing.  I mean they are THE MOST amazing.  I don't know how that happened, probably because it takes a certain caliber of person to put up with me. In keeping company with these amazing souls, I have learned a thing or two about jealousy.

For example,

I know that when a naturally thin and unfairly beautiful friend plans a visit, I can drop 15 pounds in two months.   I've done that.

I know that when a childless friend plans a surprise visit, I can clean, reorganize, and RE-PINTEREST my home in 48 hours.  I've done that.

I know how it feels to want to quit everything.  I have wanted to quit writing.  Quit blogging.  Quit shopping, quit cooking, quit eating, quit cleaning, quit marriage, quit parenting, and go live in a hut on the beach.  Because if you're going to feel like an embarrassment in EVERY SINGLE WAY A PERSON CAN FEEL LIKE AN EMBARRASSMENT, you might as well feel small in front of an ocean instead of in front of other people.

I know about that.

And I know about feeling guilty for resenting GOOD, AMAZING, WONDERFUL people just because your heart can't handle their wonderfulness.  I know how it feels to resent yourself for being so resentful.

Jealousy and insecurity go hand-in-hand.  It's very chicken-or-the-egg.  Am I jealous because I'm insecure?  Or am I insecure because I'm so jealous?  The answer is, "Yes."

They feed off of each other in a downward spiral, like a whirlpool, taking your confidence, joy, peace, friendships, and focus with them as they go.  Like an airplane stealing tree limbs on the way down.

Jealousy is not something you can just live with.  You can't allow it to occupy a little room in your heart, like it's paying rent, and try to get on with your life while it's sitting there on the sofa bed you made up for it.  Jealously will burn the place down.  Jealousy starts a slow burn that will eventually leave your whole heart in dead, white ashes.

A few years ago I decided to quit jealousy.

And that's what I did.  I quit, cold turkey.

And you know what?  It really wasn't that hard.

Here are the four things I do when I battle with jealousy and survive:

1. Connect.

The absolute fastest way to kill jealousy in its tracks is to look another person in the eye.  It breaks the trance.  Sit across the table from somebody, and listen to them talk.  People don't get to edit in real-time conversations, so when you talk to someone you normally interact with online, you'll be amazed at how ... NORMAL they sound.  If you are jealous of a real life friend, go to her house more than once.  You will notice that her baseboards aren't always clean, and this will free you.  She might even have ants.  I will never forget the day that I walked into the house of a childless person and saw an ant.  AN ANT!  It was one of the most validating, freeing experiences of my entire life.  It was like that ant said to me, "I do not condemn you, human.  Be free."   When you look somebody in the eyes, you remember that real life doesn't come with Instagram filters.  You might even see traces of hurt, struggle, fear.  You might see some of the weight that they carry.  You might notice that even the slenderest of people have thigh-meat, and that thigh-meat might set you free.

2. Celebrate.

Take their success before their success takes you.  This is public relations 101; he who breaks the story, writes the story.  He who makes the announcement, owns the announcement.   When someone has a success, celebrate it like it's yours.  The more you practice their joy, the more you'll feel  their joy.  Become a good celebrator.  You'll be surprised by how much you mean it.

3. Remember.

Remember that your life is yours to live.  Remember all the treasures with which YOU have been entrusted.  Remember that that THING, or that TRAIT, or that LIFE that you're so jealous of is not yours to live.

Amena Brown (who is a treasure and my favorite) said it this way in her poem How to Fly.

"You never carry dreams given to you by someone else. You figure out which things you gotta check and protect, And which dreams you hold close you to. You let go of everything that was sold to you as true. Too much hurt affects your wingspan.

You see flyin’ ain’t about provin’ to someone who is struggling to be somebody That you ‘gone be somebody too.   Flying is about taking what you got, being who you are, And doing what you do."

Know yourself, and dare to like yourself.  This is audacious gratitude and it will change everything.   Four years ago  I realized I was carrying dreams given to me by someone else.  I looked around, full of gratitude, and the most amazing thing happened: It dawned on me, like someone walking into a room and turning on the light, I like me.  I think I'm smart.  Maybe not book-smart, or street-smart, but some kind.  I think I'm funny, funny enough that I'm not bored by my own thoughts, so that's good.  I think that I'm cute.  I'm no physical specimen to behold or anything, but I think I'm cute and I'm okay with cute.  Mostly, I'M ME.  I am this whole collection of thoughts and experiences and values and beliefs and quirks and proclivities, and I LIKE ME.  I put down all the dreams given to me by someone else, and I gave up trying to prove things to people who weren't even watching.  Gratitude turns your eyes up to The Giver, and you can't behold The Giver of All Good Things and still be looking around feeling jealous about stuff.

4. Love.

When you love someone, jealousy gets edged out.  The love presses it out, occupying the space it used to hold, filling all the gaps.  When you love someone, you see their hurt and your heart grieves with them.  When you love someone, you see their joy and your heart leaps with them.  When you love someone, you want their best, their happiness.  You actually DESIRE their growth and maturation - you are on the edge of your seat, breathless to see what their lives could hold.  And you want to be on the sidelines, cheering them on, holding them up, because, LOVE.    Love causes us to lose sight of insecurity, competition, lust, idolatry, and entitlement because it causes us to lose sight of ourselves.

Kick jealousy out.  Stop taking his rent.  Quit him.

Connect, celebrate, remember, love - and breathe the free air.

 

The Survivor Series giveaway is still live!  Share a #survivorseries post for a chance to win $150+ in coffee, music, books, and other survival essentials.  Click here for details.

You guys, I wrote some books!  They’re really good and if you buy them and read them I will bake you cookies.*  You can get it on Amazon, from Barnes & Noble, and in bookstores August 1.  

*and eat them myself because you live too far away.

You Can Do Hard Things

My daughter was born blind. When she was three-years-old, it was hard for her to learn self-help skills that come more naturally to sighted children.  Putting on socks.  Using a fork.  As a sighted person, it was hard for me to know how to teach her, and as a parent, it was hard to watch.  If independence was my goal for her (it was and is), I had to insist she learn.  I had to hold her toes to the fire a little bit.  But I also had to acknowledge that it was hard.

Growing up is hard anyway; we ask children to try new things every. darn. day.  "How do you know you don't like it if you don't try?"  My brain would implode if I was asked to try half as many new things as the average four-year-old.  Do something that I haven't mastered?  BUT I MIGHT FAIL.  That's like asking me to play a team sport.  I break out in hives thinking about it.

Growing up is hard.  Learning to put on shoes is hard.  And it was hard for Madeline.

A phrase I used every day, was

"You can do hard things."

She wasn't allowed to say "can't."

She could say, "I need help." She could say, "This is hard." She could say, "I am frustrated," or "I am tired," or "I am sad." But she couldn't say "can't," and she couldn't quit.

(I hold myself to the same standard of language and toughness.  It's always okay to say, "This is REALLY HARD.  I am tired.  I need help."  But I try not to say can't.  I try to do the next right thing.  Gotta go through it.  Inch by inch.)

I call my girl Madeline the Brave.  Madeline the Tough.  Madeline the Helpful.  Madeline the Hope-Giver.

For her entire life, I have been telling her, "You can."

You can do hard things.  And here's the thing - she has.

I believe in the power of not quitting.  I believe in the power of "You can do hard things."  Thomas Edison said, "If we all did the things we were capable of, we would literally astound ourselves."  I believe that.  I believe that there is a divine spark in each of us, and that that spark can ignite courage and perseverance and creativity and great compassion.

Here is what I hope for Madeline (and for you and me and everyone):

I hope that I am not the only one telling her that she can.  I hope that a whole host of people rally around her and remind her that she has a divine spark in her, and that just because a thing is hard, doesn't mean it's wrong.

I saw these two commercials this week, and both of them made me cry.  I'm thankful for the little insurgence of messages like this in advertising.  Alone, they don't negate all of the terrible messages we get from the people that are trying to sell us things, but there is something inside of us that springs to life when it hears the truth.  Like there is a sleeping cat in our hearts, all drowsy and curled up - but when it hears TRUTH, it shoots its head up, the way cats do, like they are spring-loaded, and it locks eyes with that truth.  There's a knowing, isn't there?  My inner cat wakes up in church a lot of times - I'm sitting there listening when he shoots up, and I think, "This thing I'm hearing right now is THE REAL DEAL."

So I hope that when people - men and women alike - see commercials like these, their inner truth cats sit up.  I hope that in the constant stream of promotion and consumerism and materialism and idolization of beauty, sex, pleasure, and comfort, these messages ring so true that they are downright startling.

ALL THAT TO SAY:

Girls can. We can do hard things. Wake up, little truth cats.

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjJQBjWYDTs[/youtube]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqbZrymH5Rg[/youtube]

The Survivor Series giveaway is still live!  Share a #survivorseries post for a chance to win $150+ in coffee, music, books, and other survival essentials.  Click here for details.

You guys, I wrote some books!  They’re really good and if you buy them and read them I will bake you cookies.*  You can get it on Amazon, from Barnes & Noble, and in bookstores August 1.  

*and eat them myself because you live too far away.

"Don't be delicate.  Be vast and brilliant." -Shinedown Kate

When Motherhood Hurts

Originally published September 21, 2012. Yesterday morning I was sitting on a long sheet of white paper, waiting for my OBGYN to come in and let me hear my tiny baby’s heartbeat for the very first time, when I got a text message from my friend:

“I’m either having a miscarriage or an ectopic pregnancy.  I’m sorry, I just couldn’t call.  Please pray for us this morning.”

Before I could respond, my doctor came in.

So I sat, listening to the strong, healthy heartbeat of the baby we didn’t plan – the baby we were trying not to have – while one of my best friends sat, hundreds of miles away, bleeding.

I scheduled an ultrasound to determine the sex of our third child; she went into surgery to have the ectopic pregnancy removed.

In that moment everything about motherhood seemed arbitrary and upside down and unfair.

Perhaps the most unfair thing of all is that my friend is not the exception.  Neither are my 6 friends that have miscarried in the last couple of years.  Neither are my 2 friends who are battling infertility.  Neither are my 3 friends who are waiting for adoptions to go through.  Neither is my friend who had an unplanned pregnancy, and just as she was getting through the fear and into the love, lost the baby.  Neither are my dozens of friends who have heard the words, “It’s anencephaly.”  ”It’s cerebral palsy.”  ”It’s autism.”

Neither am I – even I who have easy pregnancies, easy deliveries, and healthy babies.

Two unplanned pregnancies: two rounds of fear, and “I’m not ready,” and “My life will never be the same.”  And one veryhard day when a doctor told me, “There is no treatment; she will never see like you and I can see.”

Thinking about it all, I went back and re-read a chapter of Shauna Niequist’s Bittersweet, called “Eight for Eight.”  It is all I’ve been able to think about for the last twenty four hours.

Motherhood is the most beautiful, transformative, sacred thing I’ve ever done.  I would choose it again every single time, forever.  But some days – it sure does hurt.

“…And then I realize that as much as I want my friend Jenny’s abs, she wants a baby, and we’re all yearning for something.

When I take a step back, I’m surprised to realize that the topic of pregnancy and birth and mothering, for every single one of us, has been touched with pain or just a shade of heartache.  The odds of that surprise me.  Eight women, and eight stories of waiting or yearning, of brokenness mixed in with deep delight.  If we’re a microcosm, is this how it is?  We’re eight normal women, if normal exists in this or any realm.  And one by one, eight for eight, one or another aspect of motherhood has pricked us and made us bleed.

…As for my dear friends and me, our hearts are full, of course, but also a little tender, bruised, tired.  Motherhood, and the journey towards it, has battered us a little bit, each in our own ways.  From ambivalence to longing to loss, from the anger that our bodies won’t do what we want them to, to the consuming, crushing love for a baby that is just hanging on…Motherhood laughed at our plans, twisted up our expectations, and gave them back to us upside down, covered with blood and stretch marks and Goldfish cracker paste.

We are very thankful, and we adore our children and one another’s children.  But as much as it’s beautiful, the process is a little harrowing.  Who knew we could want something so badly and then not be able to just wrestle it into existence?  Who knew we could want to provide something so desperately for our children, to heal and protect them, but find ourselves profoundly unable?  The stakes have gone up in our lives, the way they do, it seems, every time you decide to love something.”

[Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, 2010]

And oh, how we love them.

#SurvivorSeries  #SurvivingParenthood

The Survivor Series giveaway is still live!  Share a #survivorseries post for a chance to win $150+ in coffee, music, books, and other survival essentials.  Click here for details.

You guys, I wrote some books!  They’re really good and if you buy them and read them I will bake you cookies.*  You can get it on Amazon, from Barnes & Noble, and in bookstores August 1.  

*and eat them myself because you live too far away.

Surviving Parenthood

Surviving parenthood is simple.Why do people think it’s so difficult?

Take if from me, if you do this one thing, you will be the most prepared, peaceful, wise, Zen parent alive.   Here it is:

Redefine everything.

I’ll give you a quick 10 to get you started.

Redefine “clean.”

The Floor:  Is it navigable?  Yes = clean.  No?  Put all toys in a hamper and shove said hamper into the nearest room with a door that closes.  Bam, clean.

The Dishes: Can you see the dirty dishes over the horizon of the sink?  Are they “breaking The Plane?”   No = clean.  Yes?  Rearrange the dirty dishes so that they are no longer breaking the plane.  Bam, clean.

The Fridge:  Can you smell it?  No = clean.  Yes?  Does the smell offend you?   Throw away all Tupperwares and sippy cups.  Do not open them, as curiosity might actually kill the cat here.  Wipe down with Clorox wipes.  Bam, clean.

Your Laundry:  Is there a visible spill/stain?  No = clean.  Yes?  Can you scrape it off with your fingernail?  Can you dilute it with a wet washcloth?  Yes = clean.  No?  Can you smell it from 2 feet away (which is likely the closest you’ll come to another human)?  No = clean.  Yes?  Just wear the jeans again.  Just ooonnneee more time.

The Children’s Laundry:  Do they have pants?  Yes = clean.  No?  Do they really NEED pants today?  No = clean.  Yes?  Go swimming instead.  Bam, clean.

Your Car:  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

2. Redefine “productive.”

Did you do any 3 of the following?

Shower, brush your teeth, change into different pajamas, leave the house, get the mail, make a phone call, reply to an email, feed yourself real actual food, consider exercising.

Yes = productive.  No?  Life is hard, try again tomorrow.*

 *In seriousness, parenting is inch by inch, moment by moment, Chinese takeout by Chinese takeout.  If you nourished the body, mind, and soul of a small, helpless person that has been entrusted to your care, if you taught them about love, and that the world is a safe place for them because YOU are a safe place for them, if you played and cooed and held and disciplined and kissed and nurtured a little heart – you did a great big thing.  You are shaping healthy humans.  You are pouring LOVE into the world, because you are pouring LOVE into another person.  And that is no small thing.  Some days it will cost all you have, and that’s okay.  Spend it.  Pay it.  And don’t think twice about the dishes.

3.  Redefine “dressed.”

Men, are you wearing pants?  If so, you are dressed!  Women,  are your breasts covered?  Yes = you are dressed!  No?  Are you breastfeeding?  Yes = dressed!  No?  Put something on, out of the hamper is fine.  Bam, dressed.

4.  Redefine “date.”

You didn’t know these were dates, but they are:

Grocery shopping, watching The Office on Netflix while eating dinner leftovers at 11:30 pm, taking the kids for a walk, holding hands while driving and listening to the Frozen soundtrack, sitting beside each other in church while the kids are in the nursery for a WHOLE GLORIOUS HOUR.

5.  Redefine “privacy.”

The last time I was in the bathroom for any reason and the door was closed was 2007.  Can your neighbors see you?   No = Congratulations, you’ve achieved “privacy.”  Yes? Ces't la vie.

6.  Redefine “dignity.”

Imagine your child is throwing a holy terror fit because he is possessed by the kind of demon that only comes out by prayer and fasting.  Imagine he is screaming, kicking, gagging, sweating, and very, very red.  Now, imagine that you are in Barnes & Noble, a traditionally quiet establishment.  Imagine that you are dragging your demon out by his arm, at great risk to his tiny shoulder socket, as he flails/gags/kicks/screams behind you.  Imagine that you are visibly sweating through your clothing, and that your mommy muffin-top is poked out because you have another baby on your hip.  The small baby has his arm shoved down between your breasts, exposing your bra to the patrons of Barnes & Noble.  Don’t worry, EVERYONE IS LOOKING.  Imagine that as you drag your noisy, paralyzed demon, that you can hear the other patrons talking amongst themselves about you and your “parenting style,” and that their opinions are neither kind nor empathetic.   Now – are you embarrassed by this?  Yes?  Your pride will be the death of you.  No?  Congratulations, you have achieved Zen parenting.  Drag that demon out as calmly as Linus dragging his blue blanket.  Carry on, warrior.

7.  Redefine “dinner.”

You didn’t know the following things were dinner but they are:

A packet of peanut butter crackers and a glass of milk, cereal, assorted nuts, “pizza” (hotdog buns topped with pasta sauce and shredded cheddar cheese in the toaster oven), baby carrots and pickles, a milkshake from Sonic, a generous helping of Wheat Thins, Pop-tarts, granola bars and bananas.

8.  Redefine “sleep.”

Here is a simple equation to help you determine whether or not you are receiving enough sleep:

Begin with your number of children. Add six. Raise to the 4^th power. Divide by the number of pets in your home. Multiply by zero. Add 1.

Are you getting at least one (non-consecutive) hour of sleep?  Yes = rested.  No?  Feign serious injury, get admitted to the hospital, and sleep for several uninterrupted hours.  Pay your exorbitant medical bills and get back to your regularly scheduled programming.

9.  Redefine "worth."

You probably thought that you were very enlightened and mature and deep, and didn’t measure your worth by your home, appearance, productivity, job, or general likeability and good-naturedness.  But you did.  Even the Buddha, the Dali Lama, Mother Teresa, and the Virgin Mary did.  When you have children you are forced to look that reality in the face, and are confronted with what you’re going to do about it.   Here is the answer:  You must RECKON WITH AND APPROPRIATE the reality that your worth is not in any of those things.  Your worth is in you because you are a person.  Because you have life and breath in you.  Because you were created in the image of God and are loved by Him (scandalous!).  There is no other measure - there could be no lesser measure, and there could be no greater one.

It’s strange that people without children so often feel that their lives are less complete because they haven’t experienced parenthood.  There are so many posts out there saying, “You matter too!”  And at the exact same time, on stage left, parents feel like their lives aren’t worth as much because all they do is raise children.  There are so many posts saying “You matter, too!”

This is evidence that finding your worth anywhere except for inside of your given-to-you-by-your-Creator-life, is hollow.  You can take a deep breath - there's nothing to earn and nothing to prove.    You are lovely, valuable, enough.

10.  Redefine “love.”

I don’t know how it is true that you can love fully before kids, and then add more fullness when you have them.  I don’t understand the math of heaven, adding fullness to fullness and growing it.   I know that people that do not have children love fully and sacrificially and that their insides twist and flip inside out and they have WHOLE, COMPLETE, INFINITE LOVE.  I know that.  I also know that I have never loved anything on this planet like I love my children.   I can’t figure out how that works, but I believe that it’s true.  Dear mother, you will have to redefine love.  It might not be right away.  It might not be in the hospital.  You might not cry when you hold that new baby that looks like a stranger to you.  But sometime, maybe a week or two in, you will be rocking and soothing in the middle of the night and you will not want to stop.  You SHOULD want to stop, to go back to sleep, but you won’t.  You will want to sit and stare at her forever.  You will never want to blink again.  You will feel fierce and angry at anyone who would ever leave a baby - hurt a baby, neglect or abuse a baby.  Something in you will break like a dam and you will think, “OH.  THIS IS MOTHER-LOVE.”  And you will never, ever, ever, ever be the same again.  I cannot explain that.  I just know that it is.  The love will break you.  You will hurt more, worry more, cry more, despair more.  You will want more, yearn more, scratch and claw more, PRAY MORE.  You will consider the possibility of God more.  I do not know the mechanics of this.  How could love that is already maxed out, grow?  But whatever you think love is, hold on tight.  Because you’re about to be flooded and drowned and smashed and buried in love.   And it is good.

For more from Kate on parenthood, read:

Life, inch by inch We Keep Our Children's Secrets Sunday Confessions The posts in the "Surviving Parenthood" tag

The Survivor Series giveaway is still live!  Share a #survivorseries post for a chance to win $150+ in coffee, music, books, and other survival essentials.  Click here for details.

You guys, I wrote some books!  They’re really good and if you buy them and read them I will bake you cookies.*  You can get it on Amazon, from Barnes & Noble, and in bookstores August 1.  

*and eat them myself because you live too far away.

Gotta Go Through It

Originally published April 6, 2013.

(source)

We're going on a Lion Hunt! (We're going on a lion hunt!) We're not scared!  (We're not scared!) Look what's up ahead!  Tall grass!  Can't go over it. Can't go under it. Can't go around it. Gotta go through it. Swish, swish, swish.

"Going on a Lion Hunt" was always a favorite of mine - rhythmic, suspenseful and fun.  But now, as an adult, it is also my mantra: what I whisper to myself when I feel the tendrils of despair start to curl around my heart.

All of my favorite people have been through some stuff - terrible, awful, heartbreaking stuff.  I'm proved right every time I meet a new person whom I instantly like; the more I get to know them, the more I learn about the stuff they've been through:  chronic illnesses, serious depression, betrayals, affairs, ugly divorces, deaths of children, addiction, cancer.

I like them,  I've learned, because those terrible circumstances create something beautiful inside of us.  Something  precious is forged in our hearts as we walk through the difficult, painful places.  The gauntlet strips off pretension, pride, insincerity, piousness, and anything false.  Underneath we find gentleness, humility, wisdom, compassion, bravery, and indomitable strength.  Refined by fire, the Bible calls it, burning off the dross, leaving the gold.

There are no shortcuts to that beautiful, beautiful countenance.  You have to go through some stuff to get there.

Just like there is no shortcut to a baby; you have to go through labor, and morning sickness.

Just like there is no shortcut to a Thanksgiving table full of well-adjusted grown-up children; you have to go through the Terrible 2's.

There is no shortcut to seasoned love; you have to go through the fights - all of them - no giving up.

There is no shortcut to forgiveness; you have to feel the pain to get to the other side.

There is no shortcut to health; you have to trudge through the pain, the meds, the therapy.

There is no shortcut to healing, to moving on, after a catastrophic loss; you just have to keep walking through.

When it comes to the tough stuff of life, the best way out is always through.

So if this season of life seems so hard you can't breathe, know that while you might come out weary, broken, a little worse for the wear, you'll shine.  Refined, like gold.  Take a deep, raggedy breath, say a prayer, and steel yourself.

Because you can't go over it. Can't go under it. Can't go around it. You gotta go through it.

#SurvivorSeries  

The Survivor Series giveaway is still live!  Share a #survivorseries post for a chance to win $150+ in coffee, music, books, and other survival essentials.  Click here for details.

You guys, I wrote some books!  They’re really good and if you buy them and read them I will bake you cookies.*  You can get it on Amazon, from Barnes & Noble, and in bookstores August 1.  

*and eat them myself because you live too far away.