I’m gonna come out and say it.
I’m fucking spoiled. Chances are, so are you.
I have a roof over my head which provides enough heat to keep me comfortably warm, water to wash my body, fire to cook food which provides me with enough energy and nourishment to keep me going day in and day out. I have comfortable and stylish clothes, the ability to get my hair and nails done and a channel to realise my full potential as a writer.
Mum reminds me at every opportunity how easy I have it. She doesn’t necessarily go as far as to say I have no talent but I feel her judgment. She’s unconscious of course as judgment is not something we do when we are in the light of consciousness. When we love ourselves fully there’s no need to judge each other. She sees me as a woman with everything, a loving partner who earns a very good income, and all the help at her fingertips and why do I not just count my blessings and shut the fuck up when I feel a need to express my emotions or when things don’t quite sit right with me.
What more do I want? she wants to know.
Raising me and my brother in Izmir, there was no such thing as disposable nappies, no hot water and nobody to help her. Why isn’t it good enough for me that I have a man who helps me a little with housework and why do I have to keep telling him and everyone everything that goes through my head and all the things I must do and ask for their help?
Why can’t I just shut up and take care of all the shit she did without opening up her mouth?
What makes me so special?
It may just be as simple as the fact that I was born to a better time in history for women. My daughters are going to have it better than me and I want them to. There’s only one thing that will keep them from enjoying a better life than me.
Or more accurately, my unconsciousness.
This past Tuesday was a day my unconscious emerged loud and clear. As a result, I blew a fuse. We all have a fuse inside of us that goes off when we get overloaded.
What overloaded me was something you’ll probably scoff at as a first world problem. My partner had gifted me and my mum a Turkish bath and massage package at a spa in Istanbul where we are visiting my family.
Yeah, he’s an awesome man (for the most part) who understands the importance of family far better than me. For years, I’d avoided my family as a group of people who didn’t quite understand me. Boy, was I wrong, but that’s another story for another time…
On Tuesday morning, in my rush to get out of the house to pick mum up and get ourselves to the spa, I took on way too much. I started by feeding my 4.5 month old who depends on me for nourishment, then I started heating up some vegetable soup mum had left for me because I realised I should eat something.
Then my two year old started crying and I realised she had a wet nappy so I changed her and prepared her some cereal and even took the time to heat that up in the microwave and of course because I’d cut my baby’s feed midway she started crying again and I could feel my own hunger and I chose my baby over my soup so turned off the stove and went back to breastfeeding.
Shortly after this, my partner woke up and jumped in the shower. As I was breastfeeding and trying to pour my soup into a bowl with my two year old spilling her cereal all over the table and floor, he yelled at me to bring the toddler in for a bath. I had about fifteen minutes to get myself out of the house and I was nowhere near ready.
My fuse blew and it sounded like –
He stopped. As did my two-year old and I think even the baby stopped crying. I was in a very dark place.
Once my fuse blew and the lights went off in my head, I stayed in my darkness for a few minutes.
Eventually, the lights came back on as I remembered to breathe, got a glass of water, felt the ground beneath my feet again and eventually a sprinkling of love in my heart.
The Sound of Silence
From the stillness of one’s mind where you can stop all sounds of your own thoughts, a voice emerges. It comes from the depths. It told me I’m crazy. So I just left everything and everyone alone (including the baby, because she surely had enough breastmilk that morning and there’s always formula for a top up!) fed myself, got ready and went to meet mum.
When I relayed her this story, she looked at me blankly and asked me:
“It really doesn’t take much to blow your fuse does it?”
I smiled at her.
Hey, she raised me. If she thinks I’m spoiled or that I have it too good then it’s surely not my problem, is it? If your very own mum doesn’t support you, it makes you feel sad for that woman. Doesn’t she love herself that she can’t empathise with a moment of insanity without trying to one-up on how much worse she had it?
All I could do was just be as still as I could be. I judged her for not loving herself, but I’m human after all.
As we went and had our massage gratitude started to sweep over me. I have it too good, yes, but it doesn’t hurt anyone, and indeed helps everyone, if before I overload my circuit that I give a little warning and give myself a little rest so no children are exposed to the F or the S words.
If you wish your household to have harmony instead of cacaphony, you have to reach that voice deep within you and follow what it says. You can do it without getting to the point of blowing a fuse. It takes regular practice and checking in with yourself regularly.
For starters, every morning make some time for yourself to breathe in the air, drink water, feel your feet on the ground, feed the fire in your belly (otherwise you’ll be hangry!), and feel the love in your heart.
Over to you…
When did you blow a fuse to experience everything around you go dark?
What emerged out of that experience?
Were you able to hear a voice that came from the depths?
How did it sound and what was it telling you to do?
Did you follow it and find that following it helped unlock whatever it was that others around you were holding onto?
Feel free to share this shit with me, unlike my mum I ain’t here to judge you, but to hear your story. E-mail me Eda@writepublishgrow.com