“Just move on” they say…

I have no idea if I even want to ‘move on’, still I have pondered and discussed it. It’s very easy in theory, but it’s terrifying and complicated.

For those of you who love to read and share in my rants, hold on to your seats.

The newly single me has – no – is riding on the rollercoaster of, realisation, some elation, devastation, and accountability. It certainly is a ride designed for the thrill seeker because the conflicting emotions are madness!!!

While enduring the rises and falls of the track I have found one common denominator that subconsciously and consciously holds me back. I am so, so hard on myself. In the many conversations with healers, coaches, beautiful friends, and therapists I now see that women are hard on themselves in general. We just whip the shit out of ourselves, regularly. I recently found myself raging in resentment.

Here’s how it came to the fore:

1. Working mom

I am ambitious and driven. But balance in this area is elusive. Just having children sends women into a constant state of self-doubt and worry. We want the best for them, and we will do what ever it takes to give it to them. When you’re working and juggling the school calendar, homework, studying and the ongoing sports kit debacle – it’s exhausting. Both career and motherhood are insatiable beasts, and you cannot feed the one over the other. Yeeeees, I know children come first, but they cost money! I beat myself up often. Feeling as though I could do more. Spiraling for days when I forget something. Shit its hard!!!!!! I don’t care what anyone says – fathers do not have the same level of expectation when it comes to child rearing. IT’S NOT FAIR!

2. Put yourself out there

I do enjoy getting dressed up, feeling beautiful and going out. I love to dance and party. My friends tell me that I am intimidating. Too confident. Apparently, no man will approach me because I’m dancing, or talking to whoever and I’m just enjoying myself. WHAT? Omg, are we expected to evoke the 50’s and sit along the wall waiting for a suitor to ask us to dance? No man! Everyone wants the confident women, but only if she stands still and quiet for long enough for them to put their big boy pants on and approach her. Am I supposed to be less confident, less happy, less me? No, I fought for years to get back to that and it isn’t going anywhere!!!!

Still, I think what my friends were saying is that I don’t really try. They are actually right. I don’t do small talk -because it’s annoying-and I am usually having such a good time that I forget to stop and meet new people. I suppose I do have an ‘unavailable vibe’. Given that my online dating attempt lasted 5 hours – I must admit that don't put any effort into it.

3. Parts that jiggle

Men can maintain the same body. So, when they become single, they can carry on in the same flesh suit as before their children. Is this their fault – no, of course not. Its sounds so juvenile – but I was rocking rage and fury because I carried (giant) babies. They altered my body in the most incredible ways. Babies go on to destroy your boobs and give you pigmentation!!! Like permanent war paint that pays homage to the hormonal combat! Annnd, while you’re trying to raise them as good humans you forget about yourself. So, I sat firmly in IT'S NOT FAIR!!!! Yes, I know it’s ridiculous but it’s a very real phenomenon for women. How on earth are we going to move on? (If we wanted to) It feels like men get to hop into the sack with the first willing participant sans the stretchmarks and the frustration of having small hands that don’t cover much. I don’t like myself naked! The thought of sharing that with someone new, makes me want to crawl into a dark cave and die. I just can’t imagine it. Well, I can only imagine it.

Now I know that this is not the fate of all women. Some are lucky enough to go straight back to their size 8 pre-pregnancy lives. I doubt it was easy and I have respect for them. But I cannot relate. I don’t actually blame my children, the carbs and junk (that someone else obviously force fed me) had a role to play. Still, here I am stuck and ashamed of the parts that jiggle.

A friend recently called me out, she was saying that men stare at me while we are out. (Because that’s not stalker-ish at all😬). Before I knew it this sentence fell from my mouth. “They look at me and think, if only she was thinner.” My friend was speechless. - because I said it like it was an absolute truth! I believed it - to my core. It would seem that my shame had gifted me telepathy, and I just knew what men were thinking.

I journalled about it. Here is the most gut wrenching of sentences “I am smart, and funny, and loyal and fierce – but it doesn’t matter. Because I’m fat.” FFS! WTF! WTF! 😱 I am horrified at myself. Apparently, I am not only a telepath, but now, I also know what society as a whole believes and does. Confirmation bias at its worst and my inner saboteur at her best.

To summarise:

• I don’t think that men are to blame – but in these areas, I maintain that it’s less difficult for them.

• I’m jiggly, I’m a working mom, I’m confident. Perhaps I put out that unavailable vibe because I’m not available. Not right now. I’m not ready to move on. The problem is not what men are thinking, or what society believes. It’s what I believe. I’m projecting. I am the problem. The fact is, if I met a man who told me that he loved me right now, as is, I would test his eyes, get a psych eval. and conjure up a way out loooong before I actually believed him. Bless me.

• I have work to do. I need to get to a place where I like me (dressed and naked), feel like I’m on top of work and motherhood and be relaxed enough to actually give people a chance.

I am always told "you’ll meet someone who loves you for you." Ha haaa. 🤣 Good luck to him! At this point, I still have to figure out who ‘me’ is. So, I’ll be a little kinder to myself and give myself a break while I learn to really love me. There isn’t a man on the planet who could do that FOR ME anyway.

Ha ha👇🏽🤣 . Right!