Right there on page 93 – Glennon writes that although on the surface, her life was good.
She was a do-gooder for others (wife , mom, community, work). Because her ‘training’ and taming told her that “a woman isn’t allowed to do well unless she also does good”. That’s me.
She was so good that she was also exhausted, anxious, and lost. She “assumed that because I wasn’t good enough yet; I just had to try a little harder."
Well dammit, I’m tired of being good. I’m so tired. I’m tired of being tired. After years of advocating for every-friggin-one else, I’m only gonna give a shit about me. (not really, but if’s fun to think about)
I’ve got to figure out what my Ache is…trust my Knowing. After I figure out what that might be.
Because I too have learned that “dealing with the dropped shoe is less paralyzing than waiting for that shoe to drop.” (p.84)
As I commented previously, I grew up very close to my Dad. He was really my first therapist, if you will. While my Mom was out being a do-gooder with her Venn diagram circles of friends – I sat home and watched Laugh In, Mary Tyler Moore, and Bob Newhart with my Daddy. And we talked for hours. Whether intentional or not, he instilled in me this pessimistic view of the world. “Why set your goals too high, when the letdown will be that much greater?”
And – I’m paraphrasing, because neither my brother or sister ever got that vibe from him.
But that’s really what shaped me – the implied cautiousness. Cautious about being open about myself. Dip your toe, don’t dive off the high board. I try not to raise my kids with the same negativity, but I am a Part of All that I have met…and can’t undo who I am. I can only be intentional about my words and recognize when (not if) my Ache is showing.
And then, when Glennon writes about meeting Liz – and how while she really liked her she was all (p 102) “attempting to be her friend would be like intentionally writing a bad check." That Glennon didn’t ascribe to the standard "friendship maintenance rules." That got me thinking that my Mom was a Liz. I’m a Glennon. My Dad told me that I would be lucky if I was his age and could count my really really close friends on one hand, those “Lizzes” who will unconditionally BE your Liz; Who offer a new meaning of friendship. While I think I’m a better friend than Glennon claims she isn’t, I wonder if I've got a handful of Lizzes or just five fingers.
Oh and I wouldn’t mind a Beach house too.