Peace & possibilities

It’s been a tough year or so, and I know I’m not alone in this feeling. The pandemic and all the unpredictability it has created, inflation, changes in our workforce, and now the war in Ukraine are affecting all of us. And, of course, the everyday and difficult “normal” stressors of being a physically, mentally, financially stable human have never stopped. People still get cancer, loved ones die unexpectedly, layoffs happen, and sometimes the furnace fails on cold winter nights.

What’s tested me more than anything these past two years is parenting. The cliche that “it’s the toughest job you’ll ever love” holds true. Single parenting, in my experience, can make it even tougher. Doing all the things, being all the places, providing all the everything they need without the benefit of a gramma in the next town, a sister around the corner, or even a really close friend in our school district can feel lonely and impossible. And, parenting kids whose father is a low-functioning alcoholic with persistent, untreated mental health issues makes my job complex, crucial, and at times heartbreaking and overwhelming.

Add to all of this the end of my second marriage — the incident that initiated it, the aftermath of helping my kids (and myself) heal from it, the legal fallout in two different court systems — and frankly, I feel like I’ve been living under a storm cloud for a year.

“This is not the life I envisioned for them and for myself” is something the little voice inside my head has said often. Indeed, if someone had told me when I was in my 30s all that the future held for me, I would not have believed them. So much of what life has thrown my way these past six years has been mind-blowingly contrary to my goals for life and my ideas about who I am and what I’m capable of. It’s shaken my faith in myself and in the systems and structures of our society. Especially this last year, it’s driven me to take stock of my values, how they define me, how they show up in every aspect of me, and how I hope my kids will come to hold values of their own, too.

So now, as I begin my next journey around the sun, I’m reflecting on the painful, but beautifully productive lessons of my last year:

• Everyone, at some point in life, will have hardship. I know this sounds cliche, too, but it’s true. It could be caring for an aging parent, losing a spouse to a devastating disease, living with a chronic condition, divorce, or not having enough money to make ends meet; Hard times come in many forms. 
  
  Reminding myself of this has helped me to be careful about spending too much time lingering in that space of lamenting my hardships. They are what they are. Mine suck, yours suck. Many suck way, way, way more. Grieving the losses and disappointments is necessary and deserves your energy. But, so does moving on. 
  
  Thinking of it this way helps me step back from the intensity of the moment and puts it in a context that helps me focus on all the things we do have going for us, all the things we’re fortunate to have or experience, and to be grateful.  Also, it reminds me to be more compassionate with others. Just as I’ve put on a smile, shown up to life and work day after day as if nothing awful is happening, many, many, many other people are also silently steeling themselves to face a new day. Simple kindnesses give relief like you may never know (if you’re lucky), so give them often and in all the small ways you can.
  
  
• You are not alone. So many more families than I realized before are affected by alcoholism or drug addiction, mental health, or relationships that turn unhealthy or abusive. It feels wrong to admit that there’s a relief in that, but it’s true.
  
  
• Shame, embarrassment, whatever drives the fear of talking about these issues serves no one and, actually, it hurts. These issues are simply part of the human experience. Issues, problems, struggles are normal. They’re not a sign of weakness or failure. When we can talk about these things openly, we allow others who are silently struggling to realize they are not alone and there is no shame.
  
  Chances are my kids’ father will always have his struggles, and my kids will continue to navigate each disappointment as it happens. How can I expect them to handle it with grace, calmness, courage, and perspective, if I can’t do that myself? I need to model it for them so they’ll know how, too. I’ve been afraid of the awkwardness it can create, how uncomfortable it makes some people feel, and in a professional setting, I’ve been afraid of being seen as “the weak link” because in addition to managing work, I’m also managing a heavy load outside of work. I need to model caring less about what other people might think and more about what is true and real.
  
  
• Help is here. See it, cherish it, permit yourself to take it. There are so many people who show up for my kids with consistent support and kindness. Men like their coaches, the fathers of their friends, my brothers, and my dad who teach them through their actions what it can mean to be a man. Or, the moms who barely know me, yet are still always willing to give the boys rides to games or practices when I’m at work or can’t be in two places at once. And, my family and closest friends who know the details and offer encouragement and late night pep talks.
  
  
• You can do this. Getting up again… and again…and again and plodding forward in the best way you can muster won’t be pretty, and it may be a far cry from what you wanted or expected, but you can do it, and in time, you will get to the other side of it.
  
  
• Living your values is the only way. Sometimes it will be easy and obvious, other times shockingly difficult, but the example you set for your kids is powerful and enduring and the peace you create for yourself is worth the moments of dissonance.

Last week, “the universe” presented me with an early birthday gift.

It was an ordinary school morning, the routine rousing of sleepy boys, packing lunches, letting out the dog, getting everyone out the door on time. A rushed, miraculously timed effort, but successful. Just before walking out the door, each of the boys called to me to say they were leaving. They paused to let me hug them, then stepped out, calling “Bye, Mom. Love you” over their shoulders as they hurried to the bus stop.

It was a morning just like any other, but it struck me then: they feel loved, they feel happy, they feel supported, they feel connected. In fact, their cups are so full that they have enough “extra” to give back and bring with them into their days. Despite their disappointments, despite the tough times, they’re getting what they need most. Now, in our home, there is a peace that feels dependable like none other before.

Thank you universe, thank you friends, thank you coaches, thank you moms and people I barely know, thank you close friends and confidants, thank you family, thank you coworkers, thank you mom and dad. And, you know what? Thank you, me. This isn’t the life I imagined, but somehow, we’re doing it. Somehow, we’ve stretched a clean, fresh canvas and now it’s time to paint a new picture of beautiful possibilities.

March 24, 2022

Kim Walters