Below is a tale of dropped balls and feelings of unworthiness…
Last night was parents night at my kids’ school.
I have 3 children, so I went to all of their classes to chat with all their teachers and hear how things were going so far. Well, my youngest daughter just started kindergarten and is loving every minute of it. If you have kids in school, you know that at the beginning of every year, the kids normally have the “all about me” projects they are asked to complete, where they describe something about themselves, their favorite food is, their pets, what they want to be when they grow up…ect.
And I dread these projects, not sure why. Maybe it’s the pressure of finding the right pictures, of the kids, or family of pizza and puppies and then cut out and paste on the miniature posterboard.
Whatever it is, I don’t like doing it and although my kids always help, it’s still one of those things that I normally put in to my to-do pile, then rush to do at the last minute.
Anyway, when I was talking to my daughter’s teacher, she asked me about her “all about me project” (which I had just seen earlier on my desk and thought “ I really need to do that ”) and then she told me it was due last week, that the class went over them that day, and Piper was the only one without one, and could we please finish it tonight.
I got that numb tingly feeling of hot smallness and mortification.
I said, “OMG, I am so sorry. Piper must have felt awful. Will she get another chance to present her poster? Was she sad?”
I think the teacher could see my slow-motion descent into the spiral of mom-fail shame, so she said “Oh it’s ok, she can just do her’s tomorrow. It’s not a big deal. Just please do it tonight if you can.”
Ok said “Ok, she will definitely have it tomorrow!” and walked to the next class.
And although she said it was ok, and in my thinking brain I knew it wasn’t the end of the world, but I still in the middle of what Brene Brown would call a “shame shit-storm”. I was mentally berating myself for being so disorganized and procrastinating and being an all-around terrible mother. And feeling so bad for Piper, as I pictured her huddled in a heap of tears on the floor as she is ostracized by her kindergarten peers for having the WORST mother in the world and not having her poster. And how her sweet teacher probably thinks I am so selfish and lazy.
And As I sat there in that tiny kid’s chair, listening to the 5th-grade teachers present, I felt bad and small and was running through all those negative unworthiness tapes in my head.
So when the presentation was over, and I took some time to ask my son’s teachers some questions about his progress, with maybe a little too much intensity, (because I saw his teacher sneak a peek at his watch a time or two) but I think I was trying to overcompensate for previous horrid failure.
Then as we were walking home, in the cool breeze of the evening I started to feel the cloud lift and the tightness lessen and compassion for myself began to settle into my body.
I turned off the mean girl tapes that were playing in my head and took some deep breaths and found my love again.
And was able to give myself grace as I made dinner and we completed the “all about me” poster and got the kids off to bed.
Sweet Compassion.
So this is what I know for sure…yes, I may need to up my school organization game, now that I have 3 kids in school…but does forgetting something makes me a bad mom? No, it just makes me human. Will not have one project in on time make my daughter a school pariah? No, She will be fine and I have to do my best to help her be successful at school, but one of the most important skills I can teach her is to be kind and compassionate with herself and others.
I know I went into this spiral because being liked and respected by the teachers at the school in important to me and being a good mom is important to me. And because struggling in and at school is part of my story and triggers me, and I want so badly for school positive experience, full of rainbows and unicorns for my children. But even as I write this last part, I know that isn’t even my call to make, my children have their own journey to travel and I can’t choose their path, but can only help them navigate it. —> Which is both a comforting and uncomfortable thought all at the same time.
I am however in charge of my own path and journey and I know that walking with a pack filled with shame and unworthiness is a heavy load to bare and it will slow me waaaaay down. And carrying it will teach my children to carry the same heavy baggage, and they will have their own baggage to pack, so it’s better to now pre-pack it for them.
It’s funny, even as I am writing this I am struck by the fact that I have been through and worked through this particular story before, it comes up again. The truth is, no matter how stuff you uncover and dissipate, you are always at risk of rolling down that same old hill. But the difference is the more you do the work, the less time stay at the bottom feeling sad and creating stories about how everyone hates you So, now I can pretty quickly brush myself off and climb back up again.
That’s progress I think.
And since the name of the game is progress, not perfection…I would say I’m doing pretty good.
Lot’s of Love,
Sally
P.S. Have you joined my Vibrant Warrior Tribe? It’s pretty awesome.
