Wrestling with the shadow, and surrendering

Yes, a bad pun.

Wow, that’s a negative post title. But it’s actually a good thing.

I’ve never liked the word "surrender." It always brought to mind waving a white flag on a bloody battlefield, bowing your head with the expectation that a sword would come whistling through the air to chop it off. It sounded defeatist, resigned.

But in this depressive silence I’ve been in, I think I’ve learned to see the positive side of surrender.

I’ve written before about how powerful I find the idea of "choosing all", or adding more "and" into your life, and less "either" and "or." Most of the time, it works. I’d like to think I can keep two disparate ideas strolling around in the boulevards of my mind, but occasionally, two ideas bang and bang away on each other like two silver balls in a pinball machine. And I have to pick one. And I hate that, as it brings up all of my fears of making the wrong choice, and foreclosing myself forever to the right one. So I try to live with the bangs, and not get a headache. It usually doesn’t work, though.

This whole process just gets worse when one of the ideas is something I really DON’T want to know about myself. I pride myself on being all psychologically astute, and on being on at least a friendly basis with my Shadow (nothing special, just an occasional "hello" and distant wave). I suppose that’s a sign that my denial of the Shadow goes deep indeed--I’m perfectly fine with working on acknowledging the good stuff, the "Golden Shadow", and I’ve always got a ready list of faults handy for when I need to don the ceremonial hairshirt and flagellate away. But--the deep, murky, blasted stuff? The kind that wakes you up at 3am in a writhing shame and a sour silvery taste in your mouth? Like most people, I’d rather keep all that at a respectful distance, like, say, in the next life.

So I writhed away from it, pointed at it and said "not me, nope, no way", ran as fast and as far as I could, filling my days with monotonous draining activities, if not with my words.

When I settled down, my Shadow patted the ground next to her and said, "Let’s talk."

I started first, as usual, by trying to out-talk, out-think, out-maneuver her. We were at war, and I decided that the best offense was a good offense. I called out my most trustworthy character witnesses, presented my most compelling evidence, and delivered a stirring closing statement that would have made any Law and Order fan faint with delight.

My Shadow raised her eyebrow, and yawned.

Spent, I slumped, silent now. Bent my head for the sword strike.

Instead, something far worse...the thought I had worked so far to avoid, ignore, sandblast into oblivion. There it was.

And here it is.

I do not like being a mother. I want my old life back.

I clutched Madam closely to my chest as that ugliness loomed in me, hoping she would be able to act as an innocent shield. She stirred, made a small moue with her mouth, and slept on. And I was left alone, feeling so horrible, so small.

But I couldn’t un-know the thought, couldn’t un-think it.

So I had to wrestle with my shadow, try to face it the way someone moves forward into a cold wind. Secure in the knowledge that I am the worst person in the world.

Then a funny thing happened. Once I just sat with the thought for a while, once I stopped squirming and berating myself, I felt at peace. And I felt a sense of possibility again. Because I do not like being a mother...the way that I am doing it, looking over my shoulder at the judges, trying to keep a strangled grip on Right and Wrong, trying to deny myself frolic and fun and time. And then that other word came into play.

Surrender.

I’ve been afraid to surrender to motherhood, afraid to turn into one of those people keener on the price of butter and baby food than music and laughter. Afraid that I’d have to sacrifice myself (because it’s a serious given in both my family and TEG’s family that motherhood = the end of your former self. Forever. And that from now on your every waking thought would be of your child). So I’ve been resisting that, resenting that. I’ve clung to my small self while bobbing in the Great Motherhood Sea. Of course I want my old life, with its carefree pleasures and brunches out and wine soaked evenings wearing velvet! I need to accept that I MISS my time, my late nights and later mornings. Because denying that just makes Ms. Shadow sigh and flash images from that fun time, until I’m forced to be honest. Which is her goal, after all.

So, this is where my silence was leading me--to uncomfortable self-knowledge, and hopefully to a change. I need to commit to this, to allow motherhood to unfold from within me, so I can make it my own. So I can work it into something I love wholly, from the depths of me, an addition to who I am instead of a way to erase me. So I can have fun with my Madam, and push past my own fears of ruining her life, of pushing her too far or not far enough, of not following every instruction ever written. So I can wiggle out of the Perfect Mother Mold. I was oozing out of it anyway.

I’m not sure how this will all work yet--I just know that the groove of my life needs to shift, somehow. There has to be room in this motherhood gig for both Madam AND me, no? Maybe my Shadow will have advice on that too.

Come what may, I’m open now.