Lies We Tell Ourselves, Issue 6
When life gives you lemonade, drink it and don't worry about saving it for the next day
When life gives you lemonade, drink it, and don't worry about saving it for the next day
Sometimes, life gives us lemonade. Sweet moments that fill our hearts to near bursting. Sometimes it’s hard to lean into those moments because we’re afraid that if we enjoy it too much, if we love too hard if we dance too much or sing too loudly that the next day when we wake up, and the lemonade is gone, we’ll miss it even more.
But there’s always more lemonade. Or, you can always make more.
This week I got a giant pitcher of lemonade in the form of a prescription. It works to help my nerves and muscles communicate with each other. Now for the first time in two years, I can:
-eat a full meal
-dance with my kids
-pick up my daughter and swing her around
-sit upright in a chair for an extended period
and a host of other things that I used to take for granted.
During a Wednesday night dance party in my kitchen, Tiny Human and I donned tutus and messy buns and spun around to “Let Em Say” by Caroline Smith and Lizzo. During the chorus, tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Mama, why you crying?” Tiny Human stopped dancing and touched my cheek.
I held her hand against my face, “These are happy tears, baby.”
“Well,” she thought for a moment, “I’m going to make you cry more!”
Then she launched her little body at me, and I was able to catch her.
Do you save your lemonade or savor it?
Have you ever tucked your kids into bed and marveled at the perfection of their lashes, casting shadows on their cheeks only to be gripped by intense panic the next moment because you’re convinced that some sort of mystical force is going to come and steal this joy from your life?
When we’re living with a scarcity mindset, it’s hard to lean into joyful moments because we are afraid there won’t be more of them, enough of them.
We hold back a bit of ourselves and don’t fully dive into moments with our kids. We sit and scroll on our phones instead of jumping on the trampoline. We get mad about the mess of flour on the floor instead of enjoying the making of cookies and the smears of chocolate on their foreheads.
This fear keeps us from loving our partners wholly and fully. We don’t let them see all of us because we’re convinced that there isn’t enough love in the world to make them love you through your faults.
Next time life gives you lemonade, don’t avoid it, don’t sip it little by little until the ice waters it down, drink it down. Then, get up and make some more.
(Yes, sometimes that means you have to make a list, go to the store, squeeze some lemons, find sugar, spill the sugar on the floor, buy more sugar, purify the water, then make lemonade, but you can still make more. Oh, and don’t buy the powdered crap; that’s not worth it. If you want to cheat, use bottled lemon juice and real sugar.)
New from me:
Raising Shameless Girls:
Shame is a deadly force. Shame feels like there is something inherently wrong with you because you aren’t pretty enough, smart enough, rich enough, or just enough. Living with shame causes women to make themselves smaller, to hide parts of themselves away because they fear that if anyone sees their true self, they won’t be loved. Shame kills what makes us unique and valuable and turns women against each other.
Living with shame leads to alcohol and drug abuse, limits your potential, and hinders your ability to form meaningful connections with others. Shame is also the cause of the judgment and hates women spew towards each other. If left unchecked, those habits will make you sick. If we don’t teach our daughters to live without shame, we teach them to make themselves sick.
Stay tuned for the first chapter of Learning To Love Her, a novel about living with grief and disability and finding love and acceptance.
Reading recommendations (In case your reading list needs more additions)
After reading Sue Miller’s Monogamy I craved another character-driven story so, when I stumbled upon another of her books at my favorite used bookstore I punched on it. Lost in The Forest switches point of view from one character to another in a way I’ve always loved, and a way I’m trying emulate in my novel. It examines the ways families change and evolve through joy and grief.
Like most women in my age group, I read Untamed by Glennon Doyle during the pandemic. At first I found myself put off by the lack of structure (organization makes me happy). However, after listening to a podcast featuring a discussion between her and Brené Brown, PhD, LMSW whose work I love, I read a few more pages I was absolutely hooked. In the podcast Doyle talked about how, when writing Untamed, she initially wrote it in a standard memoir structure but, since the book is about breaking free of existing structures, she scrapped the first draft and birthed what turned into a raw, powerful account of the trials and joys of being a woman and a mother.