So I've been reading a daily devotional since the beginning of the Lenten season and a common theme is about light. Seeing God's light, feeling it, but also being it. Shining your own light so that others can see it and feel encouraged to share their own. Imagine how bright the world could be if this light sharing trickled on and on! One of the readings was about how we often wait to share our light or don't feel worthy enough to share it if it isn't perfect, if we don't think it's bright enough. The message was that it doesn't have to be, and actually shouldn't be perfect to share. You share your true self, who God made you, and your light will inevitably shine and reach someone's darkness in order to help them believe in their own light.
This made me think...of all the articles I've had published and any blog I've shared, the most shared and commented on (whether in person or on social media) have been when I was the most real. When I was the most vulnerable and honest. When I discussed mental health, fertility struggles, the challenges that come with the joys of parenting, what it's like being married to a police officer; the times I opened my personal life and thoughts to anyone willing to click and read. Oftentimes, those things didn't feel like I was sharing any kind of light, the opposite actually; I was sharing things in me where I thought the light wasn't touching. But that's the beauty, right? "In the darkness, we find light," is a quote that stands out to me. And I assume this quote is derived from the bible verse "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." (Which I had to look up...and is John 1:5 in case anyone is wondering.)
I also would be remiss not to mention the Kelly Clarkson lyric that inspires me to share..."you may not have the stage, but you still have a voice" (this one I didn't have to look up...it's from I Dare You in case anyone is wondering:) Maybe a handful of my closest friends and family will ever read what I write, but maybe it will spark something for someone, and that's what matters.
So, the combination of that morning devotional and the wise lyrics of my bff Kelly, spoke to me to share more of what I think isn't share-worthy. We should share the parts of us that we think people might not love, the parts that are confusing or scary or shameful. Maybe when we bring these things that feel dark into the light, we find it doesn't have to be so dark at all really.
So here comes the anecdotal story...I'm not super comfortable sharing it, but that's kinda the point I'm trying to make here, right? We recently took a family trip to Florida. My in-laws gave us a super cool family gift this past Christmas to swim with manatees when we visited them. My daughter was the most excited, it's something she's been asking for for a long time and what we planned to give her for her birthday which was only a few weeks before we were going to be in FL. She is our resident animal expert and is a walking encyclopedia of manatee information. The idea of being up close and personal with them was a dream come true for her. We spent the weeks leading up to the trip scouring the library and podcasts to find anything about manatees that she didn't already know.
The day of our excursion came and we had a very excited little girl. There was one moment on the drive there where she showed some trepidation, but it faded quickly as her excitement won out. We arrived at the docks, listened to the safety talk, put on our wet suits, boarded the boat and headed out to find our manatees.
We saw a few of these gentle giants as we traveled to where we were going to anchor and everyone's excitement grew. Once anchored and set to go, the guide handed us snorkel masks and told us we could get in the water. I got in first, then Kennie came down the ladder. The second she was in the water, she panicked. I saw it in her eyes through the mask and tried to calm and steady her. I don't know what spooked her, but she immediately said "I want to get out." I told her to breathe, I told her we were safe and I was going to be with her the whole time, I reminded her the guide knew exactly what he was doing, I repeated how he told us there was absolutely nothing to fear in those waters. She wasn't having any of it. Her nervous system flipped a switch and she needed to get out of that water. I swam her back to the ladder, helped her out, stayed with her a few minutes before deciding to have her just take a break, watch us go and wait until she was comfortable and ready to join us.
We followed the guide through the murky water and listened as he pointed out which way to look so we would see a manatee coming our way. We were too far from the boat for Kennie to see the manatees swimming right next to us or underneath us, but what a magical experience! A mom and baby swam less than a foot away from us. All I could think of was how much Kennie would have loved to be that close to a mama and baby wild animal! I was so worried she would be so bummed she missed it! After a little while, I swam back to the boat to see how she was doing and I was sure she'd be ready to come out with us (sometimes she just needs some time to wrap her head around something new before participating and we always try to be mindful of this and not push her into something before she's ready.)
I began by calmly speaking with her and encouraging her to come back out with us even if it was just for a few minutes. I so wanted her to get to experience this and I was so worried she would be full of regret if she didn't. I reminded her what a strong swimmer she was, how much she knew about manatees and their habitats, how amazing it would be to experience all she had read in the books in real life. I regaled her with the stories of all we had seen so far, certain she would be enticed to jump back in. I was wrong. She firmly told me she was staying right where she was on the boat.
Here's where things turned. After exhausting all my positive parenting skills, and being continuously shot down, I said to myself, okay, we'll do this another way. I stopped thinking of her and started thinking of all the people who knew we were taking this trip, all the people who would say to me why didn't you just make her do it? I can't believe you let her miss this opportunity. I put pressure on myself that her not participating was impolite to my in-laws who got this whole excursion as a gift for us, and mainly her. All the people who I would allow to make me feel like I was a less-than parent even if they weren't outright saying it, or even thinking it for that matter. I don't really have people in my life that would be rude about this. But any inkling of disappointment shown from someone else and my self esteem would spiral into it's all too well-known depths of self doubt. It was my own voice and thoughts and worries. My insecurities took over.
So here's where my switch flipped. Where I allowed my fear of what others might think to take over, my not understanding her why rather than the part of me who knows my kid, who knows that she is smart and strong willed and capable of making her own decisions. Something scared her, something didn't feel right, and she listened to her body and her mind. Isn't that what I have been aiming for her whole life? Teaching her to trust her instincts, be true to herself, check in and listen to herself. That is exactly what I want for her. I should have left it at that. I tried the positive things, I tried to be supportive, and my support is what she needed. My support and acceptance that she had made this decision for herself. But is that what I ultimately offered? No, it's not. So here comes the part I am even less proud of. I became a parent that I'm not, used a "tool" I have never used on my children and it shocked her just as much as I shocked myself.
I told her that if she didn't change her mind, I was going to make her come. I told her if she couldn't tell me why she didn't want to go, if she didn't have a "good enough" reason, that I would simply drag her in the water with me. I think I smirked when I said it because I didn't even understand the words coming out of my mouth. I would never actually pull her into the water, I was obviously making a joke. But I also really wanted to just shake her and say "let's go!" I told her that she was missing out on a huge experience and that she would really regret not getting in that water. I didn't say it very kindly really, I was getting mad. I reminded her that she had told all her friends and family how excited she was about this manatee excursion and then asked what she was going to say when they all asked her how it was? (Cringe, cringe cringe...putting in her mind that it matters what other people think, that she should do something she isn't comfortable with just because others expect her to. Yuck.)
And then the real kicker. Which makes me actually wince to think about and cringe even more to share...I told her I was really disappointed in her and that I thought she was brave. I saw the hurt in her eyes. She stuck out her chin and said "I AM brave."
Did I stop there? No. I was on a warpath now, taken over by some old school authoritative parenting technique that I never thought I would use. I said "Well, it doesn't seem like it because being brave is doing something even when you're afraid or nervous about it. And you're not doing that."
That was that. There is the darkness I hate to even admit.
I hate that moment. She wasn't mad at me, she didn't give me the silent treatment or behave any differently, but once I snapped out of it, I felt broken. I felt like I could have broken her. I couldn't stop replaying the whole conversation in my mind over and over as we prepared to head back to the docks. As they began to pull up the anchor, I called her over and said, "I need to talk to you for just a minute, would you please come sit with me?"
I looked her right in the eyes and said "I'm sorry. I should have never said any of the things I said before. You are brave, you are smart and you made a very difficult decision for yourself and I am proud of you. I know how much you were looking forward to this and I'm not sure what happened, but if you ever feel ready to try again, I will be right here with you, if you want me to be. I hope you can accept my apology."
She hugged me and said "I accept your apology." I asked her for one more hug then sent her back to watch the manatees as we floated by large masses in the water. Even with her acceptance, I still shudder to think I created a terrible core memory for her when I looked straight at her and told her she wasn't brave. I am lucky she is forgiving and I hope she truly understood how wrong I was and saw that I was able to overcome that, admit I was wrong and apologize for it. But I still hate that I let it happen at all.
So, there it is. The hard truth. A glimpse into my darkness. Sometimes I really F up as a mom. But hopefully, we each take something away from this. I will try my damndest not to let my insecurities creep up and snap me into some type of monster, and hopefully Kennie sees her mom is human, flawed and humbled. So here I've shared something else that I worry I'll be judged about in hopes that by doing so, I let people see it isn't always rainbows and happy manatees raising miniature humans, or in life in general. And if you think you're upset while reading and picturing this interaction, imagine how I feel. That's right, how I still feel even though I talked with her after and she accepted my apology. It still stings for me and I don't really want to hit "post" on this...but sharing my not-quite-perfect seems important right now.
