Feeds:
Posts
Comments

You have no business bringing their pain into your body.

Karla McLaren

.

Consider these words, “You have no business bringing their pain into your body.” Now, consider them again. And again.

Anyone’s pain. Everyone’s pain. Your child’s pain. Your husband’s pain. Your sister’s pain. Your father’s. Your mother’s. Your best friend’s.

Their pain belongs to them.

I’ve written before about making sure you don’t try to rescue your stepchildren.

I’ve written before about the hardest thing to do was to stand beside my husband and not interfere with his process of feeling and witnessing his pain when things didn’t go well.

“You have no business bringing their pain into your body.” Karla McLaren.

I want the bumper sticker. I want hundreds of bumper stickers. I want to give out bumper stickers to every stepmother, to every woman, including mothers. Especially mothers.

My women’s group was formed to examine the topic of giving up being The Great Healer (suggested by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, in the chapter Homing: Returning to Oneself, in Women Who Run With the Wolves). You know, giving up on the paying attention to the noticing of someone’s pain/need and jumping in to fix it as if that were the sole purpose of life. 

In the women’s group, we have studied letting go of fixing things. We are successful, more or less, some of the time. But, we are committed to the process. And, the shared time together has become priceless. We have explored what it is to sit alongside someone, without bringing her pain into our body, to witness with her, to listen to her, to keep showing up for her. On both sides it’s an incredibly powerful process.

Sometimes when I see a stepmother spewing, I know she’s hurting. She’s hurting because she took the pain inside. She took the mother’s pain inside. She took her husband’s pain inside. Or, she took her stepchildren’s pain inside. Or, worst of all, she took all their pain inside.

When I see a Twitter post proclaiming the mother of the children a terrible person, I think the stepmother has more than her share of pain inside. She’s trying to get it out. Or, worse, she’s trying to ignore the pain and make it someone else’s fault.

When I hear a stepmother with an indignant tone describing in exquisite details the transgressions of the mother, I feel the pain of the teller. A stepmother who feels pain, deep pain. I wonder if all the pain she feels is her own or if she’s siphoning off other’s pain for the do-it-yourself gauntlet she’s taken on as her own, as if she alone can be the solution, resolution, and savior of the divorced family wandering in emotional turmoil.

How many stepmothers sacrifice themselves by taking on others’ pain? How many become depressed or anxious because there is too much of . . . well, everything? Too much of everything to make sense of anything.

I think it’s in those moments of too much that one could stop, eject the other’s pain, get it outside the self. Stop bringing other’s pain inside your own body. Then, and only then, sit back and re-establish boundaries and figure out your own business. Identify your business and then get to it. It is your business to self-soothe. It is your business to take care of your heart, body, spirit…..your self.

I’m starting to get clear that the more we can set good boundaries (not walls, boundaries) and practice living with them, the more sane our world might seem. For a most excellent description of boundaries, how anger helps set boundaries, and other startling insights into all emotions, see Karla McLaren’s book, The Language of Emotion.

There are now two books that belong on every stepmother’s bookshelf. The first is Wednesday Martin’s Stepmonster. The second is Karla McLaren’s The Language of Emotion.

.

 

There is a time in our lives, usually in midlife, when a woman has to make a decision–possibly the most important psychic decision of her future life–about whether to be bitter or not. Women often come to this in their late thirties or early forties. They are at the point when they are full up to their ears with everything and they’ve “had it” and “the last straw has broken the camel’s back” and they’re “pissed off and pooped out.” Their dreams of their twenties may be lying in a crumple. There may be broken hearts, broken marriages, broken promises. (page 364, see footnote)

Being a stepmother means to live a constant daily practice of softening the heart away from bitterness. Or not. 

Some days I find myself more successful than not at keeping bitterness at bay, other days I fail miserably. On days when I can let bitterness relax it’s hold on my heart, I feel the most freedom and comfort in my stepfamily life. 

Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes suggests a woman make a timeline of her life and “to mark with a cross the places along the graph, starting with her infancy all the way to the present, where parts and pieces of her self and her life have died.” (page 365, see footnote).  

Once you begin acknowledging those things that have been cut off or that have died because they never came to life or were pushed away, then you can begin working with them. Each of those losses leaves a scar and imperceptibly inches us toward a possible future bitterness. To remain unbitter, to exercise the bitterness muscle, means to work with the events that have led to the losses and release them into forgiveness. 

Ignoring the losses, not tending the forgiveness process, allows the bitterness moment to settle in, when after years and years, decades of a woman’s life, the things which have been cut off get added to the many things that have died, and to the many things that were pushed away. It suddenly becomes too much. Too many. One more and the scale tips toward bitterness. 

For me, there is a physical sensation that tells me when bitterness is encroaching. I get a feeling of a clutching in my chest, like fingers around my heart. Often my breathing is interrupted. Over the years, I’ve taken to keeping track of my heart, you know, to see if it can stay soft or whether it’s not. I breath while I pay attention to releasing the hand that clutches my heart. 

Artwork by Kim Cottrell, 2014.

Artwork by Kim Cottrell, 2014.

I’ve been practicing this letting go of the clutching for years. Years. Even before I was a stepmother. In the beginning the bitterness crept up on me before I could tell what was happening. Now, as soon as the bitterness clutching begins I’m aware I feel not quite myself and immediately my attention goes to the clutching and letting the clutching drain away. 

I exercise my bitterness muscles regularly. The first part of the workout requires noticing when there’s a potential insult, hurt, or ache that indicates a part of me is dying off, been cut off, or sent to the back burner once more. Then, the workout involves paying attention to the sensations associated with that dying off, cutting off, or putting on the back burner. The heart-clench is my sensation. You might notice something else. Maybe it’s a sinking sensation in your gut. Maybe it’s a knot in your stomach or a lump in your throat. No matter what sensation arises for you, you’ll know what it means, you’ll know because it’s a familiar feeling.  

The simple act of noticing, acknowledging, and naming the clutching and potential for bitterness brings enough movement to the area and enough awareness to effectively reverse the clutching behavior. You can reverse bitterness clutching. You can teach the bitterness muscle to release and relax. 

A bitterness workout is the opposite of lifting weights. It’s the opposite of running relays or hiking mountains. A bitterness workout is the releasing of the contraction, it’s the letting go of the need to do something different. It’s finding ways to take care of the psyche so the bitterness doesn’t have a chance to take up permanent residence. 

I was thirty-six years old, attending graduate school, living in my Pittsburgh apartment, alone, when the bitterness choice moment came upon me. It was as if someone rang a bell and announced it was “Time for Bitter.” I looked around and over my left shoulder to see what was there, then my right. I finished the dishes and sat on my floor to contemplate the offering. After an hour or so, with the light fading from the winter sky, a very clear “No, this is not the way it’s going to be, I will not accept the bitters,” came over me. 

I walked out on bitter and have kept it at bay ever since. Some days that is a great deal of work, but my heart reaps the rewards, running with abandon through the past and present and out into the future. May we meet there in the bitterless meadow. 

.

Reference: Women Who Run With the Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estes, 1992, chapter titled Marking Territory: Marking the Boundaries of Rage and Forgiveness)

.

Some days you wake up and the topic you wanted to explore takes too many words to describe. On those days, you just let your fingers fly and silence your thoughts. Whatever comes of it, well, it is what it is.

.

EYES

by Kim Cottrell, 2014

Deep pools opening into a soul
Widening in surprise
Narrowing in concentration
Darkening in love or in heart-to-heart moments
Oh, the freedom in connecting with the eyes
Between those who share trust
Building understanding and shared commitment.

Not so with those who guards their eyes
Who horde their most casual gaze
Defining the boundaries of this and that
Withholding and averting eyes
Safety in hiding, subtly excluding
No you can’t see into me
No you can’t have that piece of me
That soul that resides in me is for this other person
This other person that I love more
Skillfully maneuvered, masterfully executed
Averted gaze becomes the castle wall.

Sadly, the walled off soul ends up walled off from self
Never knowing the freedom
Of expansive spirit and connected gazes
When many eyes, familiar and unfamiliar
Eyes of worry, eyes of care
Meet and become personal, become known.

Exactly the reason to avert eyes, avoiding
Not looking means never having to consider another.

Thus, if you seek adventure
Take your curious eyes with you
Seek out the eyes looking back
The eyes willing to be seen
Eyes willing to share
Open your eyes to these
And feel the door opening into the next room.

. . .

.

And, this must be why we love our dogs and cats. They walk right up to us and look at us, full on into our eyes, down into those places we don’t even want to admit. We might shake ourselves, but we let them look in there.

.

A Healthy Stepmother and the Eyes of Witness

.

. . .

On Sunday, my husband and I took my dad to have a sandwich at the tiny pub down the road. We were eating when two women walked in and began sharing a few tribulations with the bartender.

Not meaning to eavesdrop, I couldn’t help but overhear the bartender say that the single, most difficult thing she’s ever done in her life was be a stepmother. It took me less than two seconds to blurt out a Hear Ye! I found so much angst in stepmothering I had to blog about it. We connected for a few minutes before the conversation turned to other things.

What about that instant recognition? We’re so relieved to meet another who’s been through the fire. In the moment of saying Hear Ye, I witnessed for those women and they didn’t need to say a word, nor did I. We simply looked into one another’s eyes, and we knew.

When I helped my dad get in the car, the three women waved at me and nodded goodbye. Maybe it’s like my brother and his Harley friends. Or, my husband camping with his Westfalia van friends. Once you’ve walked a path others have walked, you’re in, few questions asked.

.

 

.

 

Once upon a time, there was a 10-year-married couple and their two children, Ivan, 8, and Hazel, 5. The family lived in an average house in the middle of an average town near an average river. They lived an average life-like most families. Both parents worked because money was necessary to pay the mortgage and put food on the table.

Sadly, one day they received a visit from the Divorce Harpie, a very damning omen since over 70% of the married couples visited by the Divorce Harpie ended their marriages within a year. One never knew the Divorce Harpie had come. He came in the middle of the night, sneering his way into their average house, bored with his own life and entertained by messing around in other’s lives. The Divorce Harpie loved watching the chaos and mayhem that came after one in the couple determined they needed to end the marriage. In fact, he always chose the woman of the couple to infect with discontent, and he always made sure the man of the couple never suspected a thing. In fact, it was worse than that. He erased all concerns and history from the man’s mind so he had no memory of the discontent in the marriage. When his wife asked for a divorce, it was always out of the blue. 

On the night the Divorce Harpie visited, the woman was up late working on the last of the Christmas cards so they could be mailed in the morning. The cruelty of the timing was lost on everyone, except the Divorce Harpie. He delighted in making sure the holidays were filled with conflict and sorrow. 

Sure enough, his visit produced the results he was looking for. His spell worked so well, not even the Fairy of Reconciliation could reclaim the marriage with her incredible skill at reconnecting hearts. The woman awoke the day after Christmas and when her husband came down for his morning coffee, she told him she wanted a divorce. 

The world stopped spinning for a few moments.

The Angel of Anxiety fluttered and flitted about, unsure whether to process the news, but doing her job. No one spoke, no one breathed, for a full 60 seconds. Finally, everyone exhaled and looked around, thinking it odd they couldn’t see very clearly. In the time it took them to let the news sink in, the Angel of Anxiety had outfitted everyone in the family with a pair of sunglasses. Each pair of sunglasses had smoky lenses, dark enough to impair vision and make it seem like perpetual dusk. 

Time went by and the divorce proceeded. The kids went to live with their dad, not because their mother didn’t want them, but because their father was more persuasive about why they should remain with him. He argued that children needed a father and there was plenty of evidence that showed when a father was present in the home the children had fewer educational issues. The smoky glasses gave him some cover for his story and reduced the number of questions about his plans for the future. He argued that he worked from home and was available in case the kids had difficulty in school. He also claimed to be the more stable of the two parents. 

The judges listened and ruled that the mother of the children needed to pay support payments for as long as the children were in high school and beyond. If they wanted to go to college, the mother was expected to pay because her job brought in more compensation. 

The kids lived with the dad and visited the mom. The dad tried to be neutral about the kids’ relationship with their mother but he resented that she made more money than he did. He resented that she went on trips here and there while he was home with the kids, forgetting that he had insisted the kids live with him and ignoring that she would take the kids any time she asked. She had consented to the kids living with him and hadn’t argued for half-time physical custody because she believed kids needed some consistency and it was better if they had one place to call home, like their dogs who relied on structure. Her concession had been that if he was going to take the kids that he be consistent and available for them and not change the plan every week. 

This plan worked out to varying degrees of success for a year and then they hit a speed bump. The Angel of Anxiety had a brother, The Lord of Depression, who visited the father one night when he was up late working on his latest sculpture wondering how he was going to buy groceries because he had spent all the money on clothes for the kids. Begrudgingly, he admitted to himself he had bought them more expensive clothes than they could afford, but he felt justified because they needed to keep up appearances for the neighborhood they lived in. 

Life went on in this push-me/pull-me kind of tug of war between the parents. Each time the anxiety got greater, one parent or another increased the smokiness of the sunglass lenses. One day, the father changed the tint to a green color and every time he said something the children agreed with him that their mother was mean and overbearing. Then, the mother changed the tint in the sunglasses to a purple color that caused the children to believe that her family, the mother’s side, was the only family  worth paying attention to. 

English: Tea shades

English: Tea shades (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Tensions escalated. Ivan began shop-lifting in response to the tension and got caught. He spent the summer in juvenile detention. Hazel became depressed and wouldn’t come out of her room. She didn’t want to get caught up in the war between parents so it was easier to opt out. Even the love bestowed on her when she acted in ways her parents approved felt tainted. 

This pattern went on for years, growing more destructive as time went on. The alienation each child felt toward the mother one week, toward the father the next week, took a toll. 

Eventually, both children graduated from high school and moved away to another city to attend college. In college, they gradually lost the tint in the sunglasses and began to view the world through the lens of many others, often others they respected who had no vested interest in the outcome of their lives. The relief was palpable. Each of the children grew strong, resilient, and capable. They had never felt this strength before. Free from the pressure to behave a certain way, free from the strain of emotions within their divorced family, they blossomed and grew and matured. 

Holidays came and went and at first they didn’t go home for the ritual Thanksgiving or Christmas. Finally, in his junior year, Ivan decided to venture home and agreed with Hazel to meet up in their hometown. They seemed to have awakened one day with amnesia for their parents’ struggles. 

They traveled to their hometown and one of them stayed with their mother and one of them stayed with the father. By this time, each of the parents was doing fine, but with some residual resentment from years past. At the same time, they were also stronger and less needy. However, they hadn’t been around the children for a couple of years and each was eager to make his or her case justifying past behaviors. 

The first night passed with everyone on their best behavior. 

The second day came and the mother began darkening the tint on her son’s sunglasses. The father began darkening the tint on his daughter’s sunglasses. It began slowly, gradually, so gradually the children had little awareness they were not seeing with their own eyes. 

By day three, tensions were mounting again and Ivan and Hazel began arguing with one another about which parent was right and which one was wrong. On day four, they each flew back to college, angry with their sibling. 

Back on campus, as soon as each stepped through the door of the dormitory, the tinting in the glasses dropped away and they each grabbed the phone and called the other. 

Hazel began, “Did you notice how we couldn’t really see clearly? Do you think it’s been that way for a long time?” 

Ivan agreed, “Yeah, I don’t really remember a time when I didn’t see either purple or green. How did all that begin?” 

They ended the phone call agreeing their parents were being manipulative and they needed to find a way to end it. Or, not see them again. It just wasn’t worth the hassle and heartache of being twisted and torn one way and another. And, worse, they were pitted against one another. And even worse, it wasn’t just one of the parents, it was both of them. There was no way to have authentic relationships and now they each understood what those might look like. 

Summer vacation came and went and they didn’t go home despite many requests from the parents. Finally, they insisted the parents fly out and meet them, together, in Hazel’s town. As soon as the parents stepped off the plane, their children handed them clear sunglasses, the normal kind you buy in the store, not the kind issued by the Divorce Harpie. 

Immediately, the mother gasped. She could see what she had been doing trying to get them to love her family more, all in the name of love. She could see it wasn’t love. The father put his new glasses on slower, but with some curiosity after watching his ex-wife. He inhaled sharply. The clarity of his children’s innocence and vulnerability caused him pain to realize how his sarcasm and anxiety had caused them pain. 

They made a pact, then and there, each member of the family would carry normal sunglasses in a stash in their traveling case and when someone began with the criticism, superiority, bashing the other, or creating a negative story line about the other parent or any of the other kids and family members, they would be handed a fresh pair of glasses. They would acknowledge the legacy from the past and the way they couldn’t see clearly with the other glasses. They would understand what those things Anxiety and Depression looked like and offer a hand to the others. 

They would see the world with clarity and know the meaning of love, kindness, compassion, community, and connection. They would do the best they could to hand those things down to the next generation. 

.

 

 

 

 

Mother’s Day.

It all started in the 1850s, when West Virginia women’s organizer Ann Reeves Jarvis held Mother’s Day work clubs to improve sanitary conditions and try to lower infant mortality by fighting disease and curbing milk contamination, according to historian Katharine Antolini of West Virginia Wesleyan College. The groups also tended wounded soldiers from both sides during the U.S. Civil War from 1861 to 1865. Brian Handwerk for National Geographic

Hardly recognizable with the consumeristic nature of our modern Mother’s Day celebrations. Mother’s Day with all its exclusions of non-mothers and the raising onto pedestals of women for a certain 24-hour period rather than leveling the playing field for women every day of the year. If it’s that a woman births a child that’s being celebrated, then maybe we should just admit we’re celebrating the female ability to bring life into the world because we know this to be important for the future of our species.

If we’re celebrating nurturing, then Mother’s Day misses the boat with all the humans of both genders excluded in the narrow definition of mother.

And, what about Stepmother’s Day, officially the Sunday after Mother’s Day? What’s up with that? A separate day because these two women can’t be acknowledged on the same day, even though they care for and love the same children? Because one of the women birthed the children, she must keep any other woman’s hands off their heart? Can that be true? We see example after example in our everyday lives showing us this is how it feels to some.

As for being a stepmother, I honored stepmothers in A Heathy Stepmother and the Holy Grail of Success. It was one of the most commented on blogposts, after the post A Healthy Stepmother is Not Alone.

The thing is, there are some incredible women on the planet, mothers and not mothers alike. They are able to see that the best possible future for any child involves loving and moving toward love. They see that love is expansive and includes everyone. They see that love has no boundaries and the more love is shared, the more love there is. They know love begets love.

Here’s an example of two such women . . .

Sistering On

.

I want to hear more stories like this. Let’s shout these stepmother-mother stories from the mountaintops. Let’s put them on billboards as people enter our cities. Let’s feature these positive stories on the evening news. The more adults hear stories of women working together to love children, the more men and women will know it is possible to lay down the stories of the common culture and move toward peace.

A Healthy Stepmother . . . on Love-for-All

Peace Dog

These two women in the Sistering On story went against our current cultural story that tells mothers to not like stepmothers.

I’m glad they did.

Today, and every day, let’s practice peace. Peace for the adults. Peace for the children.

I’m thrilled to know of these peace-seekers who enter into the world of Love-for-All. Maybe this is the frontier we humans are always seeking, the frontier of letting go of fear and opening into the largely unexplored expanse of the heart.

Maybe the pioneers are these two Sistering On women who will lead us to the happy place we all dream of finding.

.

 

Enhanced by Zemanta

Remember a time in your life when you made your own decisions? Remember having your decisions respected by others? Remember when another’s behavior didn’t impact your life quite as significantly as it does now? And, remember when you were in charge of what happened in your home? You know, the days before your marriage. 

That time before your marriage was a time you lived with a leadership role in your own life. Then, you said I do and just-like-that the roles and the rules changed. You went to sleep one day in charge of what happened to you and woke the next day with three or four or five other somebodies figuring into the equation of how your time was spent, including whether you lived under the same roof with someone who resented your presence. 

Recent events in my family of origin have left me questioning my roles within any group. As a kid, my place was always in the middle, trying to make everything okay for everyone. I was the Omega in the pack of siblings, with the others heaping on huge helpings of teasing or criticism or opinion. But lately, I’ve discovered another place to live. I’ve found a place on the edge where I’m not leading the decision-making, but am remaining true to myself. I’m no longer automatically caretaking others, but remaining engaged by observing, listening, and supporting when asked to help.  

Scenes of urban life in Byzantium. Left illumi...

Scenes of urban life in Byzantium. Left illumination is a scene of marriage. The right illumination depicts a conversation among family members. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I first learned this living on the edge business from adjusting my role within my stepfamily. When I let go of insisting on inclusion in certain conversations, I immediately relaxed. When I let go of thinking I needed to be involved in every event, there was time for my other interests, which fed my spirit and washed away the resentment and the feeling of being out of control. 

At first, the edge of the circle seemed like a precarious place, precisely because it wasn’t familiar. The edge of the circle held new variables and new perspectives. Being on the edge involved not being in the know about every little thing. It involved letting go of the planning and processing or mediating between the other parties. Over time, I became more comfortable in my lawn chair on the edge of the circle and participated from that place. In many ways, it was a relief, since I was no more waiting on everyone like a garden party hostess.  

It’s worth remembering, no one in a family is ever truly outside the group. Even in estranged families, where someone is excluded, or shunned and sent away, the place that person took up is still there, waiting to be reclaimed.  

In the same way, a stepmother is never outside the group but she can think she is. When her familiar roles aren’t available and others don’t make space for her, she can feel like an alien. In those moments, she has a few options. She can run another out of the position she thinks she belongs in, she can win others over and gain her position back, or she can adapt and realize that most stepmothers wear more than one hat anyway. 

A healthy stepmother is resilient. She is an expert at finding second, third, and fourth choices in sticky situations. She might take things personally in the early years of her marriage, but she quickly develops a new perspective that allows her to begin practicing all the roles a stepmother can take in the extended stepfamily. And, over time, she understands, it truly isn’t about her. 

,

Enhanced by Zemanta
Updated from December 16, 2009.

Regardless of whether you’re preparing for your first trip into the Stepmother Wilderness or you’ve been there before, you need some essentials. Being a stepmother is a process: first, you learn the basics, then you gain skill and strength for longer trips, and finally, you become an experienced stepmother, expert in handling emergencies and traumas along the wilderness trail.

Ideally,  we would be oriented to venturing into the wilderness, but honestly, life often thrusts us full-on into the long-distance hike with little to sustain us except our love for the man to whom we said “I do.” Thus, whether you are an experienced stepmother or recently married, living with someone, or contemplating marriage, you can benefit from the 10 Essentials.

1. Navigation (map and compass)

Do not leave home without a map of your direction and a compass to track your coordinates. Time and again, stepmothers get stranded, lost and confused, dehydrated, or overexposed to freezing temperatures that caught them unprepared. Had they known where they were going and which path to take, they might have returned to safety quickly and without much ado.

Take out your compass, get your map . . . plot your course. Make plans with your husband so you know you’re both on the same trail and where you’ll meet up each night if you get separated. If you get mad and stomp off, not letting him know where you’re going, you’ll have a long wait before you are found.

2. Sun protection

Prevention is the first step in protection. Rub a thin, invisible layer of sunscreen on one’s skin to keep the invisible rays from harming the skin, especially during times of long exposure. Once there’s been too much exposure, it’s difficult to do anything other than wait until the burn has healed. In our stepmother lives, the sunscreen of choice is the detachment many experts suggest. Detachment helps many stepmothers do less and avoid over-exposure, fatigue, and burning. Note: detachment is best used when needed and then shelved for times when the flow of connection feels mutual and comfortable. 

3. Insulation (extra clothing)

Take insulation no matter where and what season you venture out. Insulation could be a warm layer, a dry layer, or a wicking layer. At the very least, a layer next to the skin to reduce chafing. With the right layering, you can go out in almost any weather.

Early in our marriage, my husband advised me to use insulation . . . don’t leave yourself vulnerable . . . and, be sure to take care of yourself. My enthusiastic, brave front did little insulate me from the grief that naturally occurred when he and I got married and my feelings ended up trampled and bruised. He knew how to move among those family dynamics, but my anxiety-motivated efforts to join in took me feet first, with no insulation to protect me from the cold.

4. Illumination (flashlight/headlamp)

If you can’t see where you’re going, you can’t get where you want to go. So, take a flashlight. If the weather changes for the worst and you’re stranded, you might need to signal for rescue. You might need a light to find your way back to your campsite. 

And, consider a headlamp. They leave your hands free, giving you flexibility and light where you need it. Sometimes you need that focused light to shine on a problem, so you can find a solution. Knowing when to use the light comes with experience and a healthy stepmother knows when to not shine the light.

5. First-aid supplies

When you get hurt, you need help. Your stepmother first-aid kit should include a range of supplies, everything from taking a nap to going on a beach retreat with stepmother girlfriends. It should also include a stepmother support group, formal or informal, and the name of a good therapist, if you don’t already have one. In addition, learning to stand in your own skin, to show up fully and not vacate the premises, is one of the most effective first-aid supplies to carry in your kit.  

10 Essentials for A Healthy StepmotherYou should build up a strong kit of options for nurturing yourself over the long haul. Even when stepkids don’t mean to brush you aside, they do. Even when they want to like you, their mother stands between them and you and she may or may not let them have the freedom to approach you with an open heart. In those cases, get out the first aid kit. Patch up the cuts, blisters, and bruises and move on. Unless you have a broken bone or need bed rest, there is a lot that a good long walk with the dogs will do for you.

6. Fire

The fire you take into the stepmother wilderness fuels your creativity, shores up your spirit, and solidifies the love you share with your husband. Without that fire, the stepmother wilderness gets dark, cold, and more than a little scary. You need fire as a vital aspect of your relationship with your husband so that you can continue to build up your history of successful interactions, memories, and stories. The fire protects you from the challenges to your union you’re sure to encounter. You are building a house of connectedness and the fire is a central element to withstand the test of time.

7. Repair kit and tools

Taking care of oneself outdoors means that sometimes you have to dig a hole to properly dispose of the waste. Sometimes you have to chop wood or haul water or build a temporary shelter. Gather up your personal stepmother repair kit and be sure to include the following items . . . you should have a cozy blanket to wrap up in when you need some nurturing, a room to escape to where you can shut the door and have some alone time, a computer so you can go online and chat with other stepmothers even in the wee hours of the night, and a Mardi Gras mask to wear when your own smile just won’t do. A pedicure, or maybe even a new hairstyle, might qualify as a repair kit, but it’s a great idea to have a few tools that don’t require going and doing. Sometimes you need repairs in the here and now and can’t get away from your obligations.

Read. You’ll soon find out that you are not alone and many others share the same concerns. There is a growing supply of books that give ideas for how to approach the stepmother role and it’s no secret that there are many different philosophies growing out there. Hands down, the best overview of stepmothering lies in the pages of Stepmonster, by Wednesday Martin. Get a copy. 

8. Nutrition (extra food)

Meals are a vulnerable time for a stepmother because everyone sits face-to-face, struggling with what to say or do. One strategy to nourish your self is to let your husband cook meals for his children. This takes you out of being judged for what you cook or don’t cook and whether they like it or don’t like it. If you are the custodial stepmother, let the kids sign up for a night to fix the family meal. Independently, if they are old enough, or in teams with a parent if they are too young. Let them be in charge of food choices, preparation, and clean-up. Let them offer nourishment to others.

Nutrition also comes in the form of you and your husband getting time alone and you taking time with close friends and your own family. This could be the most neglected aspect of being a stepmother, often because stepmothers carry guilt about not being present for every moment. Special Note: Dig a hole and bury the guilt right beside the waste. Then, without further ado, resume your life.

9. Hydration (extra water)

Water, coffee, tea, juice, or cocktails. Any experienced stepmother-hiker knows that she needs to choose carefully how she hydrates. Essential is remaining hydrated, whether the conditions are warm or cold. Take enough water and take electrolytes to prevent against dehydration. 

An experienced stepmother chooses a safe and appropriate environment when occasionally letting loose with friends. She doesn’t want to end up like the guy who was drinking and after a fight with his fiancé decided to swim in the Colorado River, and drowned. To summarize: drinking and the stepmother wilderness don’t mix. Use your good navigation skills and knowledge of the terrain to plan for each day, and behave accordingly. No prudish lectures here, just common sense and good wishes for the long haul.

10. Emergency shelter

Sometimes, regardless of the abilities of an experienced wilderness stepmother, the situation can fall apart. When a sudden storm comes up, grab your emergency supplies and get busy building a shelter to wait out the storm. This might include building a barrier (real or imagined) to withstand the hurricane of feelings being hurled in your direction. Hurricanes come up during most holiday and special events for the kids, or following times of transition between homes. Stormy weather can, and will, be brought into your home without warning. Practice when the winds are less intense and soon you’ll be able to quickly assemble shelter around you so you can breathe and watch and interact, without feeling assaulted by the storm going on around you.

With these essentials in your pack and knowledge of how to use them, over time you’ll learn to use them in a preventive way. Please . . . don’t venture into the Stepmother Wilderness without your 10 Essentials.

*Adapted from the 10 Essentials, The Mountaineers, Seattle.

Enhanced by Zemanta
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,032 other followers

%d bloggers like this: