Now that I'm over my writer's block, it's time to throw the spaghetti on the wall and see what sticks.
When I was in middle school I wanted to change my name to Zeka (pronounced zee-ka). It was my version of "Twonda!" The name Idgie Threadgood, from the movie Fried Green Tomatoes, used to shout to give herself courage.
In recent years, I've become almost paralyzed from insecurity and social perceptions. The more "hard-line" I felt I was about certain things, the more often time and research showed me alternate paths.
Up until now, I wasn't zen enough to understand that being unsure is okay. Or maybe, I'm okay with it now because -so far- we have all turned out okay. And frankly, being a mother scares the shit out of me. There's no "fake it til you make it' through raising kids, but somehow it's happening.
More recently, I've accepted the fact that I'm not ever going to attain the perception of what I THOUGHT I needed to be as a mom, or person in general; of what I had envisioned for myself. Equally so on a professional level. I can never completely dedicate all of my time to perfecting both. There's not enough space for it all to fit.
The balancing act is real. The desire to attain perfection is gone. The swinging pendulum, the press of demands and lack of time is unreal. We all have to sleep and eat. And this is good.
When I was in middle school I wanted to change my name to Zeka (pronounced zee-ka). It was my version of "Twonda!" The name Idgie Threadgood, from the movie Fried Green Tomatoes, used to shout to give herself courage.
In recent years, I've become almost paralyzed from insecurity and social perceptions. The more "hard-line" I felt I was about certain things, the more often time and research showed me alternate paths.
Up until now, I wasn't zen enough to understand that being unsure is okay. Or maybe, I'm okay with it now because -so far- we have all turned out okay. And frankly, being a mother scares the shit out of me. There's no "fake it til you make it' through raising kids, but somehow it's happening.
More recently, I've accepted the fact that I'm not ever going to attain the perception of what I THOUGHT I needed to be as a mom, or person in general; of what I had envisioned for myself. Equally so on a professional level. I can never completely dedicate all of my time to perfecting both. There's not enough space for it all to fit.
The balancing act is real. The desire to attain perfection is gone. The swinging pendulum, the press of demands and lack of time is unreal. We all have to sleep and eat. And this is good.
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