Wherein I Introduce Project "Do As I Do"
As you are probably aware, I write weekly entries in a CaringBridge account to keep everyone who loves our family and/or is interested in our journey updated in regard to my two-year-old daughter Eleanor’s health conditions. (Our little Rainbow Unicorn Zebra has multiple rare medical conditions.) My husband Mark and I spend our days caring for Eleanor and working six jobs between us… because paying for the needs of a medically fragile kid is a never-ending hustle. However, this new project was inspired primarily by the fourth member of our little family. Our older daughter Samantha is a freshman at Wellesley College, which is one of the top three liberal arts colleges in the nation. She is brilliant, ridiculously funny, loveably dorky, as loving as you can get, and totally beautiful to boot. Which is why I got understandably frustrated when the doubts about ourselves we all have as teenagers came to visit my girl. Self-doubt is necessary for exploration and growth. But there is a point when it becomes destructive. I thought that because I have armed Samantha since Day One with every book ever published that features a strong, smart, confident, badass girl… and because I am a vocal feminist and raised her to be one too… that her self-doubts would fade away as time passed. However, I was ignoring a fundamental truth – our daughters will not do as we say… they will do as we do.
I have told Samantha every day how much she is loved, how lovely and smart and funny she is. I have told her this even during conversations in which I expressed that she was making me angry or sad or so frustrated I wanted to throw stuff. I told her these things because I know how tough it is when someone doesn’t say these things… or says them and doesn’t mean them. I told her these things because I never wanted her to feel about herself the way that I feel about myself. I never wanted her to doubt how incredible she is. How strong and brave and powerful, smart, lovely, loving, tough, hilarious, and straight up dorky she is. But no matter what I said or how many times I said it, that fundamental truth – our daughters will not do as we say… they will do as we do – caught up to the both of us.
This isn’t to say that Samantha isn’t confident. That she doesn’t love many things about herself and that she doesn’t take pride in who she is. But there are doubts that are stubbornly lingering that I feel I had a part in creating through example. And because I sincerely believe that when you identify something in yourself that is unintentionally hurting someone else, you do what you can to remedy the unintentional harm you’ve caused… I’m launching a new project entitled “Do as I Do.” It’s meant to serve as a reminder to my daughters (and a lesson to myself that I’ve yet to learn well) that when you find yourself hiding any part of yourself, as soon as the immediate danger has passed, you do whatever you need to do to come out and rejoin the rest of the world. That you find yourself again, stronger in the places that have cracked or broken outright.
To make a ridiculously long story short, I had an exceptionally difficult final two years of college. I didn’t understand until half-way through my senior year that I was having such a tough time because I hadn’t processed any of the absurdly tough things I had been forced to grapple with during the five years before I got to college. Even as I came to understand that my reactions to those stressors was human and deserving of compassion, I became profoundly embarrassed by my very existence, in large part because I had unintentionally projected my un-processed hurt onto some people I loved tremendously. In the years that followed, I slowly stopped spending time talking to almost anyone I cared about for fear I would unintentionally let them down too. When I did put myself out there, I was so self-conscious, my skin felt like it was on fire or my scalp had just been plunged in cold water. There were fewer than two dozen pictures taken of me over the next dozen years. When I met my husband, he pointed out that it isn’t normal to wear jeans and long shirts every day in the summertime. One of my two best friends used to beg to take a picture of both of us that she could display on her Facebook wall. I shot her down so many times over the years that she stopped trying.
I got older, wiser, and more at peace with the fact that very little that had happened up to the point where I understood that I had been operating in straight-up survival mode was my fault. But I didn’t stop hating having my picture taken. I struggled to connect with most people even though I’m an extrovert because I couldn’t handle the idea that I might unintentionally hurt someone’s feelings and I started feeling more comfortable being myself when I was alone. I started communicating primarily through the written word because I felt physically out of place most of the time. When I got Lupus and gained a LOT of weight due to the drugs I was on and started losing big chunks of my hair, this feeling intensified. It was only after I got pregnant with Eleanor that I realized I better start getting over the “no pictures” thing, no matter how unworthy I felt. I have so few pictures of me and Samantha after she turned 3-years-old and I didn’t want to repeat that reality with Eleanor. I started slow… two pictures on my wedding day. A picture of me and Samantha at Homecoming. A few bump shots. But I was still too self-conscious to take any pictures of me on the day Eleanor was born. I then stopped taking pictures again for a year because I was preoccupied with taking care of my brutally sick infant. I stopped taking care of myself entirely because there wasn’t time. Between caring for Eleanor and paying the bills, I didn’t even have time to read books… and nothing makes me feel less like myself than being without a good book. I sucked up taking some pictures with Samantha at graduation and in advance of her leaving for college. But I was horribly self-conscious in every single shot. I wanted to stamp “I had Lupus and gained this weight because of drugs and I can’t lose it or do anything about my hair or how tired I look because I have a sick baby” on my forehead. I currently even forego putting my name on a lot of the pieces I write for businesses and nonprofits because I’d have to submit a headshot to receive attribution. What I write gets published under the name “staff writer.”
The thing is, as self-assured as Samantha is, there are pieces of her that have been unintentionally affected by my own profound self-doubt and self-conscious behavior. To make matters even more complicated, I have another little girl growing up before my eyes who has not yet witnessed a mama who is confident, self-assured, and allows the world to physically see who she is. Yes, I write. But I thank God every day that I don’t have to communicate with many people face-to-face. And you guys… that is seriously twisted. I graduated college nearly 15 years ago. And I’m still so embarrassed about who I was during a period when I hadn’t realized I was suffering from severe PTSD that I have all but completely disappeared from view. On behalf of both of my phenomenal daughters, on behalf of myself, and as a value statement to all of our daughters, I’m going to start showing up again. And God willing, over time, it’ll help transform the act of being seen from a terrifying chore into a joy.
Project “Do as I Do” is going to consist of daily video entries. My strongly preferred method of communication is writing… but writing won’t get my point across or help me out of this place. Instead, I’m going to upload a video of ME every day. I may talk about my journey to start taking care of myself again (which also begins today), or I may provide book recommendations. I may take you on a tour of a place I love in the Twin Cities, have a dance party with Eleanor or give you my thoughts on the Oscars. I am hoping that I’ll make you think or laugh or possibly even inspire you sometimes. But mainly, I’m hoping that what I say will matter less than what I’m doing. By showing up and letting you see me… chin rolls and all… I’m going to remind all of us that just because someone FEELS inadequate, unlovely, unlovable and afraid doesn’t mean that they’re inadequate, unlovely, unlovable or experiencing rational fear. That when you start to lose parts of yourself that are valuable, you find your way back to them… period.
***Just an FYI of how this will work… I will be uploading each day’s video to a YouTube channel. I’ll also be posting a rundown of what the previous week’s videos were about on Facebook and on this project-dedicated blog. That way, if you’re interested in listening to my book recommendations or learning about my latest workout but could care less about what I thought about the most recent presidential debate, it’ll be easy for you to pick and choose what to watch.***
One final note… I had planned to start this journey in December, but life (predictably?) got in the way. I am SO GLAD that it did though… because the support our family received as a result of Eleanor’s GoFundMe campaign has inspired my approach to this project in intense ways. If you all can show up in force for us in the ways you just have, I can certainly figure out how to get out of my own way. It’s going to take time and effort – but I’ve never felt this ready to take on my insecurities before. I have YOU to thank. So… thank you.
I have told Samantha every day how much she is loved, how lovely and smart and funny she is. I have told her this even during conversations in which I expressed that she was making me angry or sad or so frustrated I wanted to throw stuff. I told her these things because I know how tough it is when someone doesn’t say these things… or says them and doesn’t mean them. I told her these things because I never wanted her to feel about herself the way that I feel about myself. I never wanted her to doubt how incredible she is. How strong and brave and powerful, smart, lovely, loving, tough, hilarious, and straight up dorky she is. But no matter what I said or how many times I said it, that fundamental truth – our daughters will not do as we say… they will do as we do – caught up to the both of us.
This isn’t to say that Samantha isn’t confident. That she doesn’t love many things about herself and that she doesn’t take pride in who she is. But there are doubts that are stubbornly lingering that I feel I had a part in creating through example. And because I sincerely believe that when you identify something in yourself that is unintentionally hurting someone else, you do what you can to remedy the unintentional harm you’ve caused… I’m launching a new project entitled “Do as I Do.” It’s meant to serve as a reminder to my daughters (and a lesson to myself that I’ve yet to learn well) that when you find yourself hiding any part of yourself, as soon as the immediate danger has passed, you do whatever you need to do to come out and rejoin the rest of the world. That you find yourself again, stronger in the places that have cracked or broken outright.
To make a ridiculously long story short, I had an exceptionally difficult final two years of college. I didn’t understand until half-way through my senior year that I was having such a tough time because I hadn’t processed any of the absurdly tough things I had been forced to grapple with during the five years before I got to college. Even as I came to understand that my reactions to those stressors was human and deserving of compassion, I became profoundly embarrassed by my very existence, in large part because I had unintentionally projected my un-processed hurt onto some people I loved tremendously. In the years that followed, I slowly stopped spending time talking to almost anyone I cared about for fear I would unintentionally let them down too. When I did put myself out there, I was so self-conscious, my skin felt like it was on fire or my scalp had just been plunged in cold water. There were fewer than two dozen pictures taken of me over the next dozen years. When I met my husband, he pointed out that it isn’t normal to wear jeans and long shirts every day in the summertime. One of my two best friends used to beg to take a picture of both of us that she could display on her Facebook wall. I shot her down so many times over the years that she stopped trying.
I got older, wiser, and more at peace with the fact that very little that had happened up to the point where I understood that I had been operating in straight-up survival mode was my fault. But I didn’t stop hating having my picture taken. I struggled to connect with most people even though I’m an extrovert because I couldn’t handle the idea that I might unintentionally hurt someone’s feelings and I started feeling more comfortable being myself when I was alone. I started communicating primarily through the written word because I felt physically out of place most of the time. When I got Lupus and gained a LOT of weight due to the drugs I was on and started losing big chunks of my hair, this feeling intensified. It was only after I got pregnant with Eleanor that I realized I better start getting over the “no pictures” thing, no matter how unworthy I felt. I have so few pictures of me and Samantha after she turned 3-years-old and I didn’t want to repeat that reality with Eleanor. I started slow… two pictures on my wedding day. A picture of me and Samantha at Homecoming. A few bump shots. But I was still too self-conscious to take any pictures of me on the day Eleanor was born. I then stopped taking pictures again for a year because I was preoccupied with taking care of my brutally sick infant. I stopped taking care of myself entirely because there wasn’t time. Between caring for Eleanor and paying the bills, I didn’t even have time to read books… and nothing makes me feel less like myself than being without a good book. I sucked up taking some pictures with Samantha at graduation and in advance of her leaving for college. But I was horribly self-conscious in every single shot. I wanted to stamp “I had Lupus and gained this weight because of drugs and I can’t lose it or do anything about my hair or how tired I look because I have a sick baby” on my forehead. I currently even forego putting my name on a lot of the pieces I write for businesses and nonprofits because I’d have to submit a headshot to receive attribution. What I write gets published under the name “staff writer.”
The thing is, as self-assured as Samantha is, there are pieces of her that have been unintentionally affected by my own profound self-doubt and self-conscious behavior. To make matters even more complicated, I have another little girl growing up before my eyes who has not yet witnessed a mama who is confident, self-assured, and allows the world to physically see who she is. Yes, I write. But I thank God every day that I don’t have to communicate with many people face-to-face. And you guys… that is seriously twisted. I graduated college nearly 15 years ago. And I’m still so embarrassed about who I was during a period when I hadn’t realized I was suffering from severe PTSD that I have all but completely disappeared from view. On behalf of both of my phenomenal daughters, on behalf of myself, and as a value statement to all of our daughters, I’m going to start showing up again. And God willing, over time, it’ll help transform the act of being seen from a terrifying chore into a joy.
Project “Do as I Do” is going to consist of daily video entries. My strongly preferred method of communication is writing… but writing won’t get my point across or help me out of this place. Instead, I’m going to upload a video of ME every day. I may talk about my journey to start taking care of myself again (which also begins today), or I may provide book recommendations. I may take you on a tour of a place I love in the Twin Cities, have a dance party with Eleanor or give you my thoughts on the Oscars. I am hoping that I’ll make you think or laugh or possibly even inspire you sometimes. But mainly, I’m hoping that what I say will matter less than what I’m doing. By showing up and letting you see me… chin rolls and all… I’m going to remind all of us that just because someone FEELS inadequate, unlovely, unlovable and afraid doesn’t mean that they’re inadequate, unlovely, unlovable or experiencing rational fear. That when you start to lose parts of yourself that are valuable, you find your way back to them… period.
***Just an FYI of how this will work… I will be uploading each day’s video to a YouTube channel. I’ll also be posting a rundown of what the previous week’s videos were about on Facebook and on this project-dedicated blog. That way, if you’re interested in listening to my book recommendations or learning about my latest workout but could care less about what I thought about the most recent presidential debate, it’ll be easy for you to pick and choose what to watch.***
One final note… I had planned to start this journey in December, but life (predictably?) got in the way. I am SO GLAD that it did though… because the support our family received as a result of Eleanor’s GoFundMe campaign has inspired my approach to this project in intense ways. If you all can show up in force for us in the ways you just have, I can certainly figure out how to get out of my own way. It’s going to take time and effort – but I’ve never felt this ready to take on my insecurities before. I have YOU to thank. So… thank you.
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