I’m reading another blog. And she’s going on and on in flowery language about this blessed motherhood and I find myself wondering, “are we even living the same experience?” And she talks about the privilege and beauty of raising children, and I look around at my mundane and think…this?!?
Do you ever feel like an imposter?
Kind of like when you’re at a party and everything is going along nicely and you’re having a perfectly lovely time and then you realize out of the blue that you just don’t quite fit in?
Sometimes I feel that way about motherhood.
I keep reading, convinced there has to be a part in her story where she just completely lost it.
Because that’s what I did this morning.
But no. Instead, there were more descriptive words talking about navigating the difficult moments with grace and {dare I say} ease. And when she describes her “bad day,” it looks nothing like mine. Her “bad day” looks more like my Tuesday.
{Kind of like when someone shares an “honest picture of their messy house” and there are two shirts and three toys sitting cheerfully on the floor. That is not a messy house in my home. That, my friends, is also just Tuesday.}
And so I feel even more like an impostor. Because honestly when I read things that gush on and on and on about how amazing motherhood is, I usually think to myself, “I don’t even WANT to feel like that. That’s ridiculous.”
Then I feel guilty. Because, of course.
But there are those other mothers. The women that constantly make light of, make fun of, or complain about the craziness of motherhood.
And I don’t feel like I belong in that motherhood, either.
Because I do walk through days with intense joy and gratitude. But I also walk through days with frustration and a short temper. Some days I pull myself out of it.
And some days it’s more of an act.
And some days I fail miserably and let myself wallow in it.
I don’t share this because I disbelieve the experiences of the women who walk through their journeys with more grace than I do. Because that is their experience, their motherhood, their truth.
But if you’re like me and sometimes you don’t feel like you belong in this motherhood, I just want to tell you that you do.
We were all created differently. Some women are created with a deeper emotional bank that’s filled in ways yours isn’t. Some women were created with a gift of creativity and can create beauty in their homes when your walls sit empty for lack of inspiration. Some women have been gifted with gentle words to walk their children through a hard lesson, when you just cut right to the chase and tackle that problem head-on with confidence and surety.
You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not, or wish you were a different mother. You were created to be the perfect parent for your child. Be you. And work to improve the things you don’t love, but never, ever try to become someone else.
And so after that frustrating morning filled with a messy house, lack of patience, and few choice words I’m not terribly proud of, I knelt down and I looked into my son’s eyes and wrapped him in my arms and apologized for losing it. No excuses. Just honesty.
Just real life.
Just loving my kids with every fiber of my being, trying to do my very best by them, and blowing it big-time once in awhile.
Because that is my motherhood. And all are welcome.
