Down the Rabbit Hole

Expectations and Eleanor Roosevelt

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DAY 2238-- September 8, 2020
Prompt: Eleanor Roosevelt said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.”
As best stories sometimes come out of their authors’ fears, what do you say for writing about one thing that scares you every day? For example, what scares you today?

I feel like nearly every day since becoming a mother, my life dictates that I automatically do at least one thing every day that scares me. Motherhood is one terrifying-as-fuck journey some days for real. I find myself fairly well-rooted in the fear that I am screwing up , even on the days when I grudgingly award myself an A- for parenting at the close of a particularly productive trip around the sun.

As my daughter rapidly approaches puberty, some days I am completely overwhelmed by those fears. We get sidelined by epic shouting matches as she seems compelled to argue with me over the most mundane things. It seems we are destined to never agree on a wide spectrum of topics from, "what shirt goes best with those leggings", or "why chicken nuggets are still chicken" to "why one particular Hamilton cover is in fact, not Sia but some other artist". Sadly, these are all very real examples drawn from actual arguments. I blame our most irrational debates on burgeoning hormones and on my patience and sanity, both of which have been severely compromised in the wake of COVID.

I try not to to think about the fact that she's not even a preteen yet. The truth is that real emotional fireworks haven't started yet and that thought fills me with a numb horror some days. I wonder how we will make it through these coming years, she and I. The anxiety overwhelms me at times and I have to take step back. I have to slow down. I have to acknowledge that we have amazing moments still too. For as much as we may battle, she will still randomly take my hand in the grocery store, unconsciously slipping her delicate fingers through mine. She still prefers to sleep in between us most nights and we one of us will always wake with her lithe body snuggled up against our back or her small face pressed against our neck. As much as she loves time with her friends, she seems content to settle back into time with us after returning from play dates and sleepovers. The graceful and forgiving truth is that,as often as I have seen the budding adolescent in her these past weeks and months, I have also had glimpses of the loving, dependent child she still is in her heart and it gives me a beautiful respite from the fear.



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Day 2853: September 8, 2020
Prompt: It wasn't until I was older that I understood...

It wasn't until I was older that I understood that having expectations of others would be the greatest deterrent to my own happiness. The truth in life is that most people in your will not care about whatever battles you may be facing, what dreams you wish for or what goals you achieve. That has been a hard learned lesson and one I seem bound and determined to keep forgetting. Lately it seems, I'm dealt one reminder or another as to how little I, or anything I may think or feel, matters to the people who would claim to love and care about it. It sounds like I am whining...I'm honestly not. I'm most angry at myself. You see, I am the person who feels compelled to pick up every call, to respond to every text. I "need" to be there, to invest in everyone else - sometimes at my own expense. I am the one condoning the way others make me their second and third choice. There is something inside me that doesn't believe I deserve more sometimes. I thought we got wiser with age but that doesn't seem to be true in my case. I have to keep relearning the same lessons. I have to keep reminding myself not to expect more from other people. I have to remind myself not to be grateful when someone makes me an afterthought.