My daughter won’t hear me tell her she has to “do it all.”
Instead, she’ll hear me ask God to keep guiding us both to do what we’re meant to do and be who we’re meant to be.
And she’ll see me doing my best trying to show her that we’re both better off doing what makes us feel genuinely happy —rather than endlessly finding ways to do all.of.the.things.
She says: I am nervous about giving birth.
Society says: That’s normal. Everything will be fine.
She says: I feel very scared to leave the hospital. I wish I could take these nurses with me.
Society says: That’s normal. You’ll figure it out.
“Why do you need to go to therapy? You seem so happy! What do you even talk about there?”
When my seeing a therapist comes up in conversation, I am often met with comments like this.
I used to feel a shade of shame and embarrassment knowing the implication here was that “unhappy” people are the ones that need therapy… and yet, there I was, returning to sessions week after week.
But now, years—many years—later, I have shed the shame and replaced it with love.
Self-love. Love that runs through me and floods out to my children. And I am proud of that.
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