OK. So, this has been a year of grieving. Grieving my mother was part of human nature. It was painful and dreadful. It was natural progression, a typical experience that although the details may differ from person to person, we all must endure the grieving of our parents and others we love at sometime or another in our lives.
But the grieving gear grinds onward. I continue to grieve my hopes and dreams.
I tell myself, "Due to a series of misfortunate events..." or "God's will for my life overpowered mine..." or "My girls and their special needs needed more from me than a career minded mother could give." Ain't that the truth.
And, as I learn more about my daughters' special needs, I realize that each day I am giving up more. I really didn't have a choice in the matter. I once was a career driven mother who strived for success so much that my goals surrounded themselves around my idea of the legacy I planned to pass down to my daughters and other women in corporate America. I prided myself as a woman who lived above the glass ceilings. The more the ceilings would surround me, the harder I would work. I was not going to give up on that, for the sake of my own daughters I would say to myself. But, I did give in. I caved. I gave up. I ran away from the prize.
Along with that, I had to give up the six-figure income that I alone provided to our family. I gave up my wardrobe and my designer purses. I gave up my Chicago office address. I still keep my business cards though. No one cares but me. I tried to drag along my professional network but realized soon enough that the professional circles I surrounded myself around didn't have the attention span to keep up with my juggling acts of dropped balls. I give up. Can't run with the wild. It was time to exchange the heels for crocs.
Now, a year later, I realize more and more that I need to give up. I learned at my last counseling session that I needed to "Stop caring what others think of me."
Well. How the hell do I do that? That shakes me at the very core of my existence. I admit, it would be a lot easier to not worry about other people's stares and judgement and opinions on how I parent my children and react during their public explosions. My therapist says that I spend way too much energy being embarrassed and trying to 'control' how other people think of me and my family.
It makes perfect sense. Don't worry about what others think of you. I just don't know how and I don't know where to draw the line. Help.