Learning how to parent

I have the privilege of helping many friends and strangers learn "how to parent" except this is not accurate.  I don't teach them anything--I show them what they already know. Because we do know- even if we don't know we know.

Part of this includes the privilege of being with friends as they labor and birth their babies- I also have had the pleasure of helping new moms learn how to breastfeed (it may be natural but it isn't always easy!!)

And the other day someone asked me where I learned how to parent. Interesting question. Honestly? I am doing what feels right and hoping for the best.  As luck would have it there is a fairly large body of evidence that supports attachment parenting as an emotionally healthy parenting option.  But where did this come from?

My mom.

When I had my first I was 22 and so immature having a goldfish would have been too much responsibility.

My daughter was a preemie-- and my mom helped me gain the confidence to hold her, to change her, to feed her and to parent her.  I was terrified of breaking her- so when she came home from the NICU at a whooping 3 lbs- my mom came down to stay with me and helped me figure out what I was doing. She taught me how to bath her, and supported breastfeeding even though she never breastfeed me.  She found resources to help me.

The biggest thing she did was help me gain the confidence to parent Princess and trust myself to know what feels right.  We have instincts for a reason- fighting them is counter productive.

So now I get to share what she guided me to learn.  You can do it.  You are enough.  Your baby needs you.  

No, I don't dance for anyone

No one aside from my pole sisters have ever seen me pole dance. 

Pole dancing has been thought of as a sexual act for so long, and it is. Really, pole rose to prominence in the US because of exotic dancers (aka strippers).  Without them, pole would not be. Pole can also be sensual, athletic, modern, or lyrical etc- it is an art, a sport, a career- it is whatever the individual doing it wants it to be.

For me though- pole helps me get in touch with my feelings, it helps me get in touch with my (please do not laugh too hard) sexy side.

So why do I want to get in touch with my sexy side if I am not going to let someone see? I do not believe that as a woman, as a pole dancer I need to be of sexual service to men unless I want to. There is no obligation inherent in being a pole dancer (for fitness or any other purpose).

A lot of people say something along the lines of "your husband must be happy" or "I bet he loves to watch you practice".

I do not pole for anyone but myself.

When I say something along the lines of "Well no one else has seen me dance" most often I am met with a response in the vein of "Then what's the point?" Which is to say: what is the point of being and feeling sexy if someone else is not going to benefit from it?

I want to feel connected to my femininity, my sexuality, my sensual side for me. Not for the benefit of someone else.  

and just because I can-- here are UNEDITED pictures from a shoot I had.

Utah anniversary

The night before, Thursday, I came home from Mock Trial team and spread my work out on the floor in the formal living, no one went in there so I could set to work on the mountains of projects I had to complete. My boyfriend called.  He was older than me, my parents didn’t like that. We argued. I knew something was up.  I didn’t know what.

I was sick. I was scared. I was hiding. I was running to try and find something- someone safe.  He was angry- he knew I was not telling him things. I couldn’t tell him. I was terrified.  Everything was so terrifying. Feelings were/are scary. They can’t be reasoned with they can’t be controlled.

My brother came home from work- he was staying with us while he was separated from his wife. We sat down for ‘dinner’.  Which was tense. Always tense. Eggshells. One wrong word, glance, putting a fork down too hard and it would erupt into screaming and crying- saying awful things- just to hurt the other person- hurt them as much as I was hurting. I felt so empty so scared so alone. I felt everything and nothing at once.

Back to homework. I had a final paper to revise, AP physics to prepare for. Exams were next week.

I went to bed.

Set my alarm, made sure that my riding crop was under my pillow. I was terrified of my dad. I was scared- and my flimsy riding crop was all the protection I could muster. I passed out into a dreamless sleep.

The next bit gets a little fuzzy

I woke up. I think it was my parents at my bedroom door—with 2 strangers. I was told that I was going to Utah today—like now. At 4 am.

My mind raced- how could I stop this. How could this not happen. How could I stop it? I thought of saying I was pregnant- even though I hadn’t slept with anyone- but Illinois law said that a pregnant minor was emancipated from her parents. Then again, I wasn’t 100% sure of that and my brother was a lawyer- he would have planned for that reaction.  Also, I was so thin- there is no way anyone would believe I was pregnant. My body could barely support me not another person too.

I realized at some point- that if I left- I may not like it- but I would be away. My parents could not hurt me so much every day. I wouldn’t have to see them an know I was a giant fuck up just ruining their lives maybe this could be ok. I agreed to go. But I asked about my group presentation that I had to present tomorrow… and what about finals? It would all be worked out they said.

I had a few moments to change- supervised. Go to the bathroom- supervised. I would have killed myself then. I would have just to not be so terrified.

I got dressed. Jeans, size 0- too big. A pink camisole. A black wool cardigan with pink roses.  I could take very little: I took my violin, my stuffed bear Tasha (whom later in Utah I would hold and inhale the scent of home) and my favorite book- Pride and Prejudice.  I asked to say good bye to my dog- Fred. My brother had him out for a walk. So I said good bye to my cat- Miss Meow. My parents asked to say goodbye to me, I told them to fuck off.

It was very cold. There was three feet of snow on the ground. We took off for O’hare- me and two escorts. Later I learned how good I had it.  Other girls were drugged and taken. Others were handcuffed and taken. I went on my own.

On the airplane the escorts were nice to me- this was their profession. Taking girls to treatment so they may—just may survive whatever demons live in them.  They gave me a letter my mom wrote to me. At first I was too mad.  Too angry to read it- but as we passed over the Midwest curiosity got me. I read it. And lost what little composure I had. Everything everything came spilling out overflowing in a mess of tears. I was angry and so very hurt—and scared… but being hurt and scared but you on the defense- and that was an untenable position for me- anger was safer. But there comes a time when anger can’t hold everything back. My time for that was somewhere over Nebraska.  I still have the letter.

They offered breakfast. A Danish. Orange Juice. Fat. Calories. Hell no.

When we landed I was handed off to Danielle and Matt. At first Danielle intimidated me- but later I grew to love her- she was the only one who could help me with my calculus. 

What do you do, 4 days after your 17th birthday when you are sent across the country- with no notice- to a treatment center so maybe, maybe I could survive this and come out the other side?

What do you do when for as long as you can remember you have been not good enough- convinced your parents hated you- then get sent away? Seems to confirm everything I had thought.

I felt more alone then than I had ever felt. But a sense of odd relief. I wouldn’t have to see my parents and know I was letting them down.  Hear the frustrated sighs, the disappointment.

The indignity got worse over the next few days and weeks—and I told myself that worst case scenario I would be there for 361 days- at which point I would become legally an adult.  Seriously, it got bad.

One of the worst parts was it confirmed my worst fears. That I was not good enough to be part of our family- so they simply got rid of me- remember 17 year olds – especially 17 year olds who are starving aren’t the best at critical thought.

Going to Utah sucked. It was awful. But it saved my life. I still have my old therapist’s (Alan) email and phone number in my phone- and yes- when things are really shitty- I call him and 16 years later? He still answers me. The man is a saint.

Now- I still don’t let people get close to me. I don’t do feelings well.  I prefer things that can me reasoned with and logiced  (new word, just made it up) out.  Feelings are too messy. Too much.

So today, I am a hot crying sobbing mess- and tomorrow it will be worse.

I am still friends with a lot of the girls who I got to know there- we had very different lives- but they were the first to help put me back together when I fell apart. 

 Now, so many years later- I lose it around my  'anniversary' both going and coming.  I try and keep terribly busy- to keep the tears away, to try and hold it together.  Inevitably, I fall to pieces a few time. A sobbing snotty mess. I can still smell the same smells feel the same feelings. Its like it is happening all over again.

I want to throw things, cry, have someone hold me and tell me its over, never will happen again-- and maybe pry my shoulders out of my ears- someone to be there to help stem the anxiety and fear.

Positive change

Typically, I am awful about dealing with change. When we remodeled the kitchen when I was a child, I cried for weeks.  When my mom got braces, I cried.  When my mom cut her hair I cried. Schedule changes are rough for me too.

For the past few years pole had been my refuge. My escape hatch from a busy life.  When things were rough I could count on pole to spin me back into a good mood.  Then I got sick. Really sick. I had surgeries. And more surgeries. I didn't get all the way better, I would get marginally better, then get sick again.  I had another baby. I got sicker. More surgeries.

Finally, I am getting better.  I am healthier.  But when I started back on the pole- so much that I took for granted was so hard, and it was defeating. I know that I could do something-- at one point- but now I am not strong enough anymore.  For a few weeks this was killing me.  It was depressing. It was dragging me down.

But I noticed tonight- my body is changing again, it is getting stronger. My muscles are coming back.  My flexibility is coming back.  I am not where I was, but soon I will be, I have to keep working at it.

So I owe heaps of thanks to Kymba of Kymberly's Aerial Pole Art and Fitness for sticking with me and showing me the joy in pole again.  While helping me get my butt back in shape.

On Suicide and Mental Illness

If I remember correctly I have addressed mental illness briefly in this blog after a tragedy.  I had hoped, in vain, that maybe, possible there would be a real discussion about the mental health issues in society.  Obviously, this is not the case.

People are still stigmatized by their mental illness.  People are still isolated.  Even the people who have access to the best medicine has to offer, are over powered by these diseases.  These diseases (and that is what they are: diseases- just the same as diabetes, asthma, cancer- and just as deadly) are powerful.

It is not cowardly to commit suicide (it is an act of desperation) it cowardly to call a sick person names and judge them.  The illnesses are powerful and scary, they can take over and rip lives apart.  The illness is in control not the individual.

A person with depression or mental illness has as much choice in the matter as someone with any chronic illness. Would you tell someone with kidney failure to just think positively, or to make their kidneys work?  No (and I certainly hope not). Then don't do it to someone with a mental illness.

Robin Williams was a genius, a gifted man.  Sadly, he was also a tortured soul as so many geniuses are.  His dramatic roles in (Dead Poets Society and Good Will Hunting are two of my favorites) changed lives.  His comedy was brilliant. He brought joy to so many people. He was able to reach into peoples hearts and touch them. The world has lost a great man.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

                         But O heart! heart! heart!

                            O the bleeding drops of red,

                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

                         Here Captain! dear father!

                            This arm beneath your head!

                               It is some dream that on the deck,

                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

                            But I with mournful tread,

                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

 Walt Whitman


Patch Adams and his character's suicidal feelings seem all that much more poignant now

15 years.

Today is 15 years since I went to Utah.  It is always a rough day for me.  Lots of anxiety.  Lots of racing thoughts, yet feeling paralyzed to do anything other than exist. 

Yes. 15 years is a long time.  I have learned with the help of my doctors, that what happened, while ultimately leading me to get better, was very traumatic.

The night going into the 13th, I have nightmares and can't sleep well.  The day of, doing anything of importance is not possible. 

Sending me to Utah had to be one of the hardest decisions of my parents lives, and I am grateful that they did. Without it I don't know where I'd be.  I don't know that I would be strong enough to do that.  But I can't imagine watching my child destroy themselves and being totally helpless to stop it. 

I'll never forget that night. Remembering it is like looking back in slow motion. I can remember the snow on the ground. My brother had taken the dog for a walk- he didn't want to be there for that. My school work on the floor. My book.  A note my mom wrote me.  I refused to say goodbye to my parents- I was angry. So angry. So hurt. So scared. I had no idea what to expect how to navigate this.

15 years may have passed but thinking about that time I am right back there. Scared, overwhelmed, (a little angry), hurt, terrified, other feelings that I can't even name now.

15 years.  It seems like it was yesterday.

Utah was hard for a lot of reasons.  But I learned so much there, more than about how to function as a person, I learned how much I love the mountains.  How beautiful they are.  You know how some people feel totally relaxed at the beach, I feel that way about the mountains. I love rock climbing and being out in them feeling the air and wind.  I don't think I would have had the chance to learn that without Utah.

Since when is self esteem a bad thing?

You know what is bizarre?  When I  start to feel good about myself, I end up feeling guilty for feeling good about myself?  What kind of crazy is that? 

Many many years ago, I was in Junior Girl Scouts and there was a self esteem badge.  I remember doing part of it and feeling terrible that I was working on liking myself.  I tried to talk about it with some adults and I was told that working on self esteem was a pretty self centered thing to do.  Then I was told that I already had a too high of an opinion of myself.

A few years later I developed an eating disorder- shocker (not really surprising in the least).

Seriously, I have lived my life feeling guilty when complemented, unable to have positive self talk, and being afraid to try new things because I may not get them quickly enough.

I grew up thinking I was a major screw up and incapable of doing anything right; that I would never be as good as my siblings, my friends, my neighbors.  My self image was a stinking pile of crap.

This is still something I have a hard time with. More pressing- I see my oldest starting o have the same patterns and I do not ever want her or any of my kids to feel like that. Ever.

So I am trying to change this. I have a long way to go.

Share the love

I have recently had to opportunity through some truly amazing women to share my love of pole with others and hopefully help them to love it as much as I do.

Pole has helped me through some of the worst times in my life and I am honored to share it with others.  I truly do not know if I would have made it through intact with out my pole family.

I seriously want to jump up and down with giddiness and joy. 

What do I want pole students to get out of it?

Everyone is different, and that is awesome.  Each of us moves our bodies differently and it is amazing, this is where the artistry of dance comes in.  We could all be given four tricks to do and the same music to do them too and yet all look totally different.

Pole is a sport- but it is also an art. If you aren't into the acrobatic tricks-- that's fine there are endless things you can do.  Walking can be amazing to watch- its all about artistry. 

You may not get every trick.  This is fine!! A lot of us have tricks we don't do for a lot of reasons. It doesn't make you less than anyone- it makes you--- you.

Love yourself and your body. Your body is part of you--- it is not *you*.  Your body doesn't define you.  I never got this until I was really involved with this physical sport-- ironic huh?

Be kind. Not everyone responds to tough love. I don't. I will get defensive and put up walls to keep people out. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

Pole dancing competitions

Pole dancing is no longer a "Gentleman's" Club attraction.  It is now a fitness activity.  One that I adore.

As pole dancing has grown more popular, competitions have become more common.  Women I started poling with are entering (and winning!) competitions.  Women I dance with and train with are champions. That is super awesome.

I do not compete.  I will not compete. Let me say, I do not hold it against anyone if they choose to compete or perform or whatever. Let me tell you why I choose not to compete.

Personally, I can't let myself compete or I will end up doing it all wrong.  I will end up getting really upset if I don't win and it will suck the fun right out of it.  Pole is about fun- to lose that would be so sad.

I do not want to do that to myself.  I will also measure myself against other dancers; from skills to appearance.  I will critique my feet, my thighs, my belly, everything.  I don't want to do that, so I don't put myself in a position when that is likely to happen.

Another reason I don't compete or perform is; I don't want people looking at me like that.  Pole has a really sexual side to it. That is fine.  I just don't want myself to get caught up in it.  I don't want to be looked at like that.  If other people are cool with it-- go for it. Its just not for me.

Pole is for me. Its my time. I have no desire to let someone else or a competition get into my head and take that time from me.  It is the time when I can focus on being me, not a wife, mother, etc.  It is time for me to get out of my head and turn my brain off.

Pole positivity

One of the things that attracted me most to pole was Kristin's dedication to positivity. She has a studio policy that students and instructors are not to be negative. 

I have never experienced a woman being negative towards another woman.  In class we are always cheering each other on and encouraging each other.  Clearly, I cannot speak to other women's experiences, but I tend to be negative towards myself.  I will say "I can't".  I will be self deprecating.  I will neglect my strengths and compare myself to others.  Often, I don't even realize it is happening. 

Well, now I noticed it.  And I will stop it. Pole is so much more fun, as is life in general when we focus on our strengths and abilities rather than what we are still working on. 

It is so easy to fall back into the habit of negativity towards myself.  I hardly even notice it is happening, until I see my attitude being sour and grumpy.

I am putting this out there as a reminder to me and to anyone else who reads this- you are amazing as you are.  You are strong. You are beautiful. You are smart.

Pole Dance Free Style Memory Loss

The basic format of our pole classes is: meditation, workout, trick time, dance time.  Sometimes there is a moving meditation in there too but that depends.

I get all happy for dance time and then it comes an I'll start dancing and my mind will blank out. Fairy climb I get to the top of the pole and well then what? What can I do from there?  Sitting here at the table thinking about it I can list off somethings but in the moment I blank- test anxiety pole dance style.

First, getting up high kind a freaks me out.  I am short- and mildly klutzy (okay-- moderately)- staying close to the ground is to my benefit- I have a shorter distance to fall.

I can do some pretty fun tricks and I am really proud of them, however, incorporating them into a dance and staying fluid escapes me.  Figuring out what to do escapes me.

Sometimes I wish I could have someone just calling out trick names and I could incorporate them because sometimes I can only remember like two things to do.

Attatchment Parenting--ahead of the fashion

So Attachment Parenting is the new thing.

Celebrities are doing it.  It is 'in' to babywear (in a non crotch-dangler), it is in to co-sleep (or bed-share), breastfeeding is cool now, cloth diapers are stylish, gentle parenting is the new rule, milk sharing is more mainstream, crying it out is out, and listening to our instincts is replacing listening to experts.

Thank goodness.

I am always behind the times.  Like terribly behind the times- on this though I am thrilled (and proud) that I was ahead of the curve- maybe the only time I have ever been 'ahead of my time'.

When I would wear my now 8 year old because she liked to cuddle, I would be told that she needed to learn to self soothe.  She couldn't learn to self sooth unless I showed her and made her feel safe.

When we opted out of most baby proofing in favor of being with the kids and watching them or just putting things away (like in storage, away)  that could be broken or injure them (like choosing green cleaning products--- goooooo vinegar!) I was told that my kids would be injured, poisoned, or whatever.  Thus far, no one has died and my children are learning to use their bodies adeptly-  I am usually observing ready to step in if there is an issue, but usually I let them be.

When we did extended breastfeeding with Stinky- I felt I needed to hide it.  I am proud that I have been able to nurse my kids for a long time.  We have an amazing bond and the benefits of breastfeeding are undeniable.

When we let Peas set her own pace for things instead of pushing her, I was told that I was doing her a dis-service.  Peas is an amazing girl- but stubborn.  Pushing her would prevent or delay her growing into the awesome kid she is.

When Pixie lived on my chest for months because she was happiest there, I was told she needed to be on her own or she'd have a hard time walking.  She walked at 9 mos.

When Little Dude crawls around the house that has not been sanitized I have been told he will get sick.  Actually- his immune system will be stimulated and learn to respond to threats.  By nursing him I am giving him a boost, but for your body to make antibodies- it first needs to be exposed to the bug.

Now, it seems that my weird parenting style is becoming more mainstream and people are seeing the benefits of it- yay!

Our instincts are there for a reason. Listen to them (use reason and good judgment too, of course, but our instincts are to care for and protect our babies by keeping them close).

(and as a post script- I just have to say it----- I told you so.)

Now That's a Pole Class

After last weeks not so great class, a toe injury, sick kids, and just general exhaustion, I was apprehensive about class.

I actually considered not going.  I was not feeling 100%- I felt tired and kind of like I was coming down with something.

Honestly, I had been having a really hard time being patient with everyone lately and I figured getting out would allow me to refocus myself even if I did not have a great class, as it turned out I had a great, amazing, awesome class.

It would have been a HUGE mistake to stay home.

I had an amazing class.

From the beginning of class I was able to get into it.  Yes my toe hurt. I was more slippery than EVER before.  I was weaker than normal.  Something about it was just right.

We were going to review a few tricks that I wanted get better at, one of them involved sitting on your non-dominant hand.  See after my wrist injury, doing things that put a great deal of stress on my wrist are often quite painful.  Instead of just gritting my teeth and doing the trick, I opted to hop out of it, and try it with my other wrist down.  My right wrist was strong enough and I was able to do it, just fine. 

The other big thing that happened in class is- I took my glasses off to dance.  I never take my glasses off-- really only to sleep and shower am I without them.  I need to be able to see.  I need to have an escape route.  Much like I need to have windows that I can see out of all the time- I need to have the ability to get out of somewhere fast. 

I took my glasses off and had a great dance. 

An Eating Disorder Rant

It drives me nuts when people simplify it so much: eating disorders are about (insert, control, body image, self esteem) whichever.

Its not that simple. It is not. It is like saying a cold is about a runny nose. Great that may be a part of it, a superficial part of it, but at most a part of it- a symptom of the issue.

As someone who has spend countless hours in therapy dealing with an eating disorder- it is not about that. It goes much deeper than that- in most cases.

My eating disorder was a way of protecting myself a way of guarding myself from being hurt, from being vulnerable, from needing anyone, from trusting anyone lest I get hurt. It was about me being perfect. It became about feeling fat and overweight- but it did not start that way (in several studies men were given limited amounts of calories and they began to start obsessing about their weight and food, which suggests the response to starvation of that sort is more biological and not necessarily related to the eating disorder itself).

It irritates me to to end when people go on and on about the horrors of advertisements on girls self image or how awful Barbies are. I played with Barbies, I never wanted to look like one, it is a doll. Ads, certainly do not help, but it is kind of ridiculous to blame eating disorders and poor self esteem on ads. Poor self esteem comes from much more than advertisement exposure.

an open letter about Tease

An open letter to Kristin

Dear Kristin,

A year ago (a whole year- and what a year it has been!) when I walked into Tease with J I was scared. I did not know what to expect.
I heard whooping and hollering from the studio and really started to panic--- clearly there was no way I could do this.

You led me. You started me on this journey that I did not expect. A journey that touched a part of me that I, and a lot of women, bury and stuff down: you began to guide me getting to know myself and my body, of not just accepting it but loving it, for all of its curves and strengths and weaknesses; of learning to listen to my heart and honor my needs instead of rushing to meet everyone's needs.

I was not ready to feel the sensuality that I felt. I was not ready to awaken that part of me. Good girls don’t do that right? Good girls do not feel pleasure from their bodies. The part of me that Tease has awakened has made me feel whole again. Tease has helped me to learn how to feel again; to allow myself to be vulnerable. This made me very uncomfortable and forced me to confront a lot of things that I had refused to deal with, but I had my safe place. So many of these things were not neat and pretty, they were messy and painful and all together unpleasant. Having Tease to facilitate this journey made so much of it possible.
More than that Tease has become my safe haven- no one messes with my Tuesday nights. They are MINE.

The Tease girls are not just my classmates who I see in an exercise class once a week- they are my friends, and I care deeply for them.
The ladies at Tease have supported me through an interesting year; one that has been rife with challenges. Because of the support of Tease I have made it through stronger and more confident. I hope that others have found me supportive and helpful on their journeys through life.

Thank you. Thank you so very much for sharing this. Thank you for all of it. I am looking forward to a fantastic second year.