Tag Archives: Anne Lamott

Mother’s Day

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It feels like winter is reluctant to leave us. When I woke this morning, it was 0℃ and feeling cooler than that. It hasn’t gotten much warmer, sitting at 5℃ and feeling like -5℃ at 2:40 pm. The sky has remained grey. There’s a strong wind blowing though not as bad as yesterday. The planted snow peas and celery in the raised bed remain under covers.

It’s a good day to cosy up with a hot cup of tea. I’m sleepy, tapping and trying to keep up my joie de vivre. I’m finding I can choose how I feel. I choose the brighter side unless I’m too cranky. Sometimes I revert to my childish side and slip over, Then I have to give myself a talk to get my adult self back. It’s all okay to slip, stumble and fall. It keeps me humble.

It’s almost Mother’s Day. How does one celebrate it without a mother? She’s been gone a year and a half now, a short and a long time ago. It’s short but long enough that the pain is not the sharp searing kind. I’ve adjusted to her physical absence. Her essence is, of course, forever in me. I do not need to do anything for Mother’s Day. I no longer have a Mother and I have never been a mother. Anne Lamott speaks so well on the thing about Mother’s Day. Here it is from 2025:

“Here is my annual Mother’s Day post, ONLY for those of you who dread the holiday, dread having strangers, cashiers & waiters exclaim cheerfully, mindlessly, “Happy Mother’s Day!” when it is a day that, for whatever reasons, makes you feel deeply sad. I told Neal last year that I didn’t think I’d run it, because I always get so much hate mail, and he said, “It’s never stopped you before.”

This is for those of you who may feel a kind of sheet metal loneliness on Sunday, who had a sick or abusive mother, or a mother who recently died, or who wanted to have kids but didn’t get to, or had kids who ended up breaking your hearts. If you love the day, and have or had a great mom and happy highly successful kids, skip this piece: I’m begging you.

I did not raise my son, Sam, to celebrate Mother’s Day. I didn’t want him to feel some obligation to buy me pricey lunches or flowers, some obligatory annual display of gratitude. Perhaps Mother’s Day will come to mean something to me as I grow even dottier in my dotage, and I will find myself bitter and distressed when Sam dutifully ignores the holiday. Then he will feel ambushed by my expectations, and he will retaliate by putting me away even at a PlaceForMom.com sooner than he is planning to — which, come to think of it, would be even more reason for me to resist Mother’s Day.

But Mother’s Day celebrates a huge lie about the value of women: that mothers are superior beings, that they have done more with their lives and chosen a more difficult path. Ha! Every woman’s path is difficult, and many mothers were as equipped to raise children as wire monkey mothers. I say that without judgment: It is true. An unhealthy mother’s love is withering.

The illusion is that mothers are automatically more fulfilled and complete. But the craziest, grimmest people this Sunday will be many mothers themselves, stuck herding their own mothers and weeping or sullen children and husbands’ mothers into seats at restaurants. These mothers do not want a box of chocolate. They may have announced for a month that they are trying not to eat sugar. Oh well, eat up or risk ruining the day for everyone.

I hate the way the holiday makes all non-mothers, and the daughters of dead mothers, and the mothers of dead or lost children, feel the deepest kind of grief and failure. The non-mothers must sit in their churches, temples, mosques, recovery rooms and pretend to feel good about the day while they are excluded from a holiday that benefits no one but Hallmark and See’s. There is no refuge — not at the horse races, movies, malls, museums. Even the turn-off-your-cellphone announcer is going to open by saying, “Happy Mother’s Day!”

You could always hide in a nice seedy bar, I suppose. Or an ER.

It should go without saying that I also hate Valentine’s Day, even those years when I’ve had a boyfriend or random husband.

Mothering perpetuates the dangerous idea that all parents are somehow superior to non-parents. Meanwhile, we know that many of the most evil people in the country are politicians who have weaponized parenthood.

Don’t get me wrong: There were a million times I could have literally died of love for my son, and I’ve felt stoned on his rich, desperate love for me. I felt it yesterday when I was in despair. But I bristle at the whispered lie that you can know this level of love and self-sacrifice only if you are a parent. What a crock! We talk about “loving one’s child” as if a child were a mystical prancing unicorn. A majority of American parents secretly feel that if you have not had and raised a child, your capacity for love is somehow diminished. They secretly believe that non-parents cannot possibly know what it is to love unconditionally, to be selfless, to put yourself at risk for the gravest loss. But in my experience, it’s parents who are prone to exhibit terrible self-satisfaction and selfishness, who can raise children as props or adjuncts, like rooms added on in a remodel. Often their children’s value and achievements in the world are reflected glory, necessary for these parents’ self-esteem, and sometimes, for the family’s survival. This is how children’s souls are destroyed.

But my main gripe about Mother’s Day is that it feels incomplete and imprecise. The main thing that ever helped mothers was other people mothering them, including aunties and brothers; a chain of mothering that keeps the whole shebang afloat. I am the woman I grew to be partly in spite of my mother, who unconsciously raised me to self-destruct; and partly because of the extraordinary love of her best friends, my own best friends’ mothers, and from surrogates, many of whom were not women at all but gay men. I have loved them my entire life, including my mom, even after their passing.

The point is, have a beautiful, wonderful Mother’s Day if it is a holiday that brings you joy, but just be conscious that for many, many people, it isn’t. Proceed thoughtfully. Deal?

Bit and Pieces

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Here I am again, sitting in sunshine, sipping my tea. I’m tired already, thinking too much on life, death and taxes. I’m working on not letting all that get me down. That’s life as people like to say. Every day babies are born and people die. We know we can’t escape the tax man. I must set a time within the next 6 days to file mine. Everything sits heavy. There’s no escape. Maybe a tylenol might give me some ease.

I don’t want life to drown me. I’m trying to find my way to the shore and get on solid ground. I tell myself feelings aren’t always real. I can still move and function well inspite of them. My mantra in life has always been No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up. During this April it has been make it simple, make it easy. I break jobs into bits and pieces. They add up. I’ve been doing things this way for a long time, even in writing. First, a word, then a sentence. String them together and you have a paragraph. I learned the importance of one small step at a time from Anne Lamott’s book, Bird by Bird. It’s a wonderful little book.

It applies not only to writing, but just about everything in life as well. I’ve sewn 100 log cabin quilt squares that way a few years ago. I have yet to put them together though. It’ll be my square by square project in winter. I talked about getting moving on with my gardening. All I could do yesterday was water the greenhouse and plop 4 cauliflower seedlings in the raised bed outside. It’s not much but it’s not nothing. This morning I’ve managed to pot up 3 squash sprouted seeds before my mood got the better of me. I’m getting things done, living life in bits and pieces.

MONDAY WHINING – Mother’s Day

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It is Monday morning, another first day of the rest of my life. It is time to fulfill one of my do-it-list of showing up here Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. It is not a hard thing. I can do it now that I’ve made it as an intention. My new motto is not to make intentions that I’m not going to keep. Words are important. They matter. If you don’t live up to them, no one will believe you ever after. They would guffaw and say, Oh, she’s just talking. Don’t pay any attention. She doesn’t mean it.

Another Mother’s Day is over. Have I told you that I have fallen out with all these occasions – birthdays, Christmas and Easter, too? I am exhausted by the idea that we are obligated to feel celebratory, joyful and all that jazz. I feel guilty and bad for saying all this, but not bad enough because I am saying it. Anne Lamott says it much better in a piece she wrote about Mother’s Day in 2015. Needless to say, she received not a small amount of flak. I suppose I will, too, even though and more so because my voice is small. It does not carry much weight.

It’s not that I have anything against joy and celebrations. It is not that I don’t love my mother and motherhood. I feel uncomfortable. I have adopted all these occasions and traditions because it is ‘the right thing to do.’ When in Rome do as the Romans. But when you are not Roman, you can’t quite pull it off authentically. Everything felt fake and not as good, especially when I was young. It left me feeling less of everything. Things have changed over the years and now we seem to have a monoculture. The whole wide world is celebrating Christmas, Easter, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day. You would think that would make me feel better. But it has left me feeling that things are more meaningless.

So what to do? I do not like feeling like this. I don’t want to be a badass. I’m a bit of a rebel but I’m not great at it. The thing to do is to adopt those wanted warm fuzzy good feelings and fake them till they become real. Enough said but one thing more. I tried to do all that stuff regularly if not every day, in my own ways. I love and care for my mother every day and not just on the official Mother’s Day. I used to buy her presents. Now I give her my time and attention. Still, at times it is hard to quiet the voice that say’s buy her something. So I do Chinese take-out to feed us both.

WHAT SURPRISED ME IN 2021

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It’s day 3 of the new year and the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I’m feeling tired and not the least bit eager, wanting to show up here. I’m doing it anyways. In the same manner, I did #2 assignment for the 30-Day Positivity Challenge. It helps to have a plan and goals for the day/month. It’s my to-do list for difficult to navigate times. I’m up and down with the fluctuating temperatures. I’m temperamental and over sensitive to noise and clutter. Everything sounds loud and like fingernails on chalk board. Everything looks messy.

Perhaps it is a good day to do some clearing – of things and thoughts. When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change. I do not have to do super feats. I can do/write in what Anne Lamott calls ‘bird by bird‘ or in one minute picture frames. I like to use the log cabin quilt square as a reference. I built it log by log. It’s not intimidating at all when you look at it that way. Now I just have to put the 100 squares I built together, block by block to make a quilt. I am a person who cannot see/do the whole picture at once. If I try, I get overwhelmed and discouraged to make even a start.

I now have picked up and rid a few things off the dining room table. I have found homes for them. Next – to work on a question or two in Unravel My Year workbook. They are not easy. The answers don’t jump out of me. What surprised me in 2021? Hmmm, let me see. Nothing obvious at first, but I suppose the fact that I could plant tomatoes, scarlet runner beans and cucumbers in the greenhouse in early March was a feat. Some died but most lived to give us an abundance of food. I had a large harvest of pumpkins in the fall. I was surprised that I love them as a vegetable to stir fry, stew, curry and soup with, besides making them in pies, muffins and cookies. Trying new things bring the best surprises. I am surprised, too, that I am enjoying these cold months relaxing, not thinking of gardening at all.

Some surprises are subtle and startling at the same time. They are like blows because they come out of nowhere and yet they’ve been there all the time. It’s just me, not seeing how I don’t value myself in so many small and big ways. That is till one day I woke up and saw how I was abusing myself and therefore, allowing others to do the same. I never set any boundaries or made any demands of others how I want to be treated. I forfeited myself to please others. My waking up was the biggest surprise of 2021. I’m still reeling and sitting with it, digesting and feeling into how I will change with the knowledge.

It has started to blow and snow outside – a bit of winter wonderland when you’re not out in it. I am glad we had our ski this morning. That is another surprise. I am not at all athletic but I love the activity so much. Who would have thought? So even if you don’t think you like something and don’t feel like trying it out, do it anyways. You might get a very nice surprise.

HOW TO KEEP GOING INCH BY INCH

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Here I am on Day 3 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I am struggling already. I have to wisen up and listen to my body. I’ve been working it too hard lately with my daily ski and altering and sewing projects. My right hand is sore, numb and tingling at times. It’s probably from gripping the seam ripper too much. No more ripping and sewing heavy material for awhile. I can use one or two rest days a week from skiing. I will not rust from lack of activity.

I will keep going with the Ultimate Blog Challenge and the100dayproject. I really like Anne Lamott’s advice in her book Bird by Bird. It really is a manual for writing and life. When I get overwhelmed by any thing/project I think about her One-Inch Frame. I write/work within that frame until it is done, then I move to the next inch. I tap out a word/idea, sentence, paragraph. I’m building an idea/sentence/paragrah at a time. At the end I will have a blog post. If I write a few more posts, it could lead to a chapter. Chapters can add up to a book. I don’t have that aspiration. But who knows?

I work at my Log Cabin quilt squares the same way. Each square has 17 components. The project was actually started a few years ago. I had some 1 1/2 strips cut up but that was as far as I got. They’ve been patiently waiting for me all this time. I am not an experienced quilter but I have taken a beginner’s class a long time ago. I have lots of material and all the tools. The Log Cabin square begins by sewing two 1-inch squares together. They are 1 and 2 in the photo. Then I sew on 3. The strips are not cut to size except the first 2. I cut up two 1 1/2 inch lengths, allowing for 1/4inch hem allowances. Then I sew on 3 and cut off the excess length. Each seam is pressed before going on the next. There’s no rushing. Patience, Precision and Care. It settles my brain. It’s good for me.

TO INSPIRE AND BE INSPIRED

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I think it is better for me to use my time to inspire or to be inspired. These last while I have lost my mind and energy in stress over the pettiness of nothingness of someone else – not a friend or a relation. So in effect it was a nobody. How foolish is that? It is the foolishness of being a human, susceptible to trickery and evil. I’m over that, at least for the time being.

Who inspires me?

  • Anne Lamott and her Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. I admire her honesty and frankness. I am inspired by her advice on witing in a one-inch picture frame and as far as you can see in the length of a headlight’s beam. When you get there, you start again. That is how you can travel the distance, inch by inch, beam by beam.
  • Laurie Wagner of 27 Wild Days. Her 27 video poetry prompts, one each day inspired me to write from my heart. She reads a poem twice. Then it was up to me to write without censorship for how many minutes – 15-30? It doesn’t matter.
  • It works much like Julie Cameron’s Morning Pages.
  • Then there are all those creative souls in my Instagram Community. There’s too many to name. I’ve learned and been inspired so much by them – the textile and other medium artists. They share their ideas and methods   freely. They are generous in their praises and encouragement.
  • My mother is most inspiring of all. I don’t even know how to begin. Perhaps that could another post.

This is enough for today. I’m learning to write in a one-inch picture frame. Tomorrow is another day and another inch. I’m learning to let go of what does not serve me. I’m going towards people who inspire instead of destroy.

 

THOSE DIFFICULT THINGS

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The difficult things are so hard to do. I hem and haw, twiddle and twaddle, scroll here and there. I do everything except the things that I need to do. I scratch my head and wonder why that is. I think it is the way with most people – that is most people like myself whose first instinct is avoidance. I try hard not to get to the root of the problem. That would be another delaying tactic. Instead, I sit myself before my keyboard to start a conversation.

I have got a few difficult things out of the way. I am not a complete failure. I tolerated the discomfort of not wanting to do and did some paperwork, put it in an addressed and stamped envelope. It is now in a Canada Post box. My prescription medications are picked up but not put away. Sheba is fed. She is waiting for her walk. Other than that, there is nothing urgent. I can put away that uncomfortable ‘I should do’ feeling. I should hitch Sheba up and go for that walk. Fresh air would do us good though I’m not looking forward to walking in wet slushing snow.

It is evening now. The walk over and done with. Somehow things do get done. My tomato seedlings are all transplanted. A few chili peppers got seeded as well as a new variety of tomato called Sunshine Sauce. I had time for a 20 minute Epsom salt soak in the tub before supper. I’m pecking away on the keyboard, trying for a few precious thoughts. A few thoughts/things are better than none. My eyelids are heavy, my mood sober. Better close up shop till the morrow.

It is now a few morrows later. I am not really in the mood to finish this post but I will. I do not want to waste my already spent efforts. What I have learned is that spot between a hard place and a rock has some give. I just have to give up the thought and not be stuck in it. I’ve been repeating the phrase, If I don’t have that thought, how would I feel? over and over these last while. It’s something I’ve learned from Byron Katie. I ask myself that question when I’m distraught and in distress. Somehow it works. It disrupts my stuck despairing, distressing thoughts. A little calm seeps in and I’m okay again.

It is another morning. The sun is shining. I’m here tapping out a few more words. Sometimes the world Facebook gives me what is needed. This morning it is words from Anne Lamott on How We Endure and Find Meaning in a Crazy World.

“No matter what happens to us — to our children, to our town, to our world — we feel it is still a gift to be human and to have a human life, as long as we ignore the commercials how and advertisements and the static that the world beams at us, and understand that we and our children are going to get knocked around, sometimes so cruelly that it will take our breath away. Life can be wild, hard and sweet, but it can also be wild, hard and cruel.

The bad news is that after the suffering, we wait at the empty tomb for a while, the body of our beloved gone, grieving an unsurvivable loss.

It’s a terrible system. But the good news is that then there is new life. Wildflowers bloom again… They’re both such surprises. Wildflowers stop you in your hiking tracks. You want to savor the colors and scents, let them breathe you in, let yourself be amazed. And bulbs that grow in the cold rocky dirt remind us that no one is lost.”

STARTING AND STOPPING

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I’ve recently recognized myself as having ADHD when I was listening to The Current on CBC Radio. Since then I’ve been listening to many lectures by Dr. Russell Barkley,  an internationally recognized authority on attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD or ADD) in children and adults. You can find them on his website or on YouTube. Rick Green is a Canadian comedian, satirist, actor, writer, and advocate for awareness of adult ADD. He is most well-known as co-creator of The Red Green Show. His website totallyadd.com contains a wealth of information.

So what have I done since I became aware of it in myself besides gathering all this information? I’ve been proactive in putting them into use since executing is my huge problem. Starting and stopping is also difficult for me. To stop overwhelm, I break things into small parts. To make a start in this space, I tap out a word, then a sentence. Sometimes it works. When it doesn’t, I get up and make myself a cuppa to settle the aggitation in my head.

I’m especially having trouble today. Not feeling super. I have so many f***king disorders. I’m not liking this sudden change to warmer temperatures. What a thing to complain about, eh?  It’s a reality with me so I am learning to somehow thrive despite everything. I’m writing in that one inch picture frame  that Anne Lamott talks about in Bird by Bird. It’s a very good book on writing and living. She writes:

“E.L. Doctorow said once said that ‘Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.’ You don’t have to see where you’re going, you don’t have to see your destination or everything you will pass along the way. You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you. This is right up there with the best advice on writing, or life, I have ever heard.”

I agree! It is the best dang advice for me, too. On many days I can’t see the whole picture, not the whole enchilada. I have to take a small bite at a time or else I could end up in a screaming malfunction. It’s not a pretty picture. I’m getting close to that point now. But before I stop, let me tell you that I’ve taken apart my Dyson Stick vacuum and cleaned all the parts and put them back together. A few days ago I phoned the company for a replacement part that was not working. I was delighted to find that I still have 7 months left on my warranty. The call took only minutes. In the past, I would not or could not have gotten there. Progress! But I have to keep at it.

GRATITUDE AND BUCKETS

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I was clearly ranting yesterday. I was not raining on anyone’s parade except my own. I like to say I’m uncranked but not yet. It lingers yet. I could be coming or is down with something. Maybe it IS who I am. I don’t have to act it out. I can just grumble (quietly and politely) here. It’s a nice sunny day and it is Thanksgiving Sunday. I am full of gratitude for my life and what I have – a roof over my head and food on the table. I am also thankful that someone else is cooking the turkey. I am providing the salad. It is a contribution albeit a small one.

Although I am grateful, I am not a fan of gratitude or bucket lists. I hope no one feels offended and throws rotten tomatoes at me. It is just my own feelings. I am sure not many approve of my daily rantings and mumblings of thoughts publicly here either. But it is my space and it works for me. It’s a stress relieving, problem solving platform for me. Being not private, it helps to keep me more thoughtful and objective. I’m apt to be more mannerly and kind. It helps me see from the other side. It keeps me from laying blame.

My crank is a little more relaxed with the tapping of the keyboard. The rhythm eases the tension in my head. Today I’m remembering to use Anne Lamott’s one inch picture frame advice for writing. It’s very good and works for everything. I work in that one inch frame at a time. That way there’s less frustration and crankiness. Can you imagine how frustrating it is when you keep making the same mistakes more than once? I redid the gent’s hair but got carried away. Too many lines again! His head got puckered. I took some out. Then I had to leave it for now. Grrr!

Working in one inch squares saves me from those grr! moments. I can get quite a bit done in those short little spurts. They add up like drops in a bucket. Gee whiz! I am a bucket person after all. I also write in one inch squares. There’s no point in being stuck in no thoughts or angry, frustrated ones. Changing venues and scenery diverts sticky thoughts and feelings.

THE GIRL I WANT TO BE

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This morning I sat with Melli O’Brien and Jack Kornfield for the Mindfulness Summit’s session on how to integrate spiritual life with everyday life. It’s good to review and revisit the sessions from October 2015. When things are going well, I tend to forget and drop my practice of being in the moment along with my qigong routine. It’s when I’m in distress, I grope my way back. I have done this time and time again. I am sure I am not alone.

It took some effort to quiet my mind to sit, watch and listen. Like Anne Lamott says: My mind is like a bad neighbourhood. I try not to go there alone. Oh, I wish I had written that! She talks like I feel. It’s great that someone else has the same feelings. I don’t feel so alone in my ‘badness’. It’s a conundrum why I feel this way. The only explanation is I am vocal about my feelings and opinions. It’s what is advocated – be open, be honest. Yet when you are I am, I get feelings of disapproval. Maybe I’m just thin skinned. I cannot help being who I am – open and honest. I do know the word tact. I was well brought up.

It is ridiculous that I feel this insecurity in this stage of my life. Why am I still seeking approval from anyone? Am I not grown? Am I not responsible? Am I not independent? Of course, I am to all of the above. What I am seeking now is freedom from this feeling of ‘badness’, of not being enough of this and that, of being at fault for everything. I am seeking peace of mind and NOT  approval.

I am sitting in mindfulness. I close my eyes and try to picture the girl I want to be. Peace and contentment came over me. I do not really see a girl. I felt her. I felt her goodness, kindness and generosity. I am not a bad girl at all. Please do not transfer your feelings onto me. Give me a break.