Since I didn't relax much on my vacation, I'd like to think I came away from the week-long trial having learned something. I have a handful of happy memories, yes, but I have many sad ones, too.
I think this time in Barcelona was even more difficult than last year's French drama/disaster. Maybe it is because I thought this time would be different. I thought I'd be able to hold it together better. I thought it would be easier. It was only a week, versus 15 days, for one thing. I envisioned hanging out in parks, strolling the Ramblas and the wide avenues of the Eixample, some beach time. We did all these things, but I must have somehow forgotten that this is a bustling city. These things did not bring me the happiness I thought they would. The stress of traveling got the best of me, again. And the European service industry (at least in my experience in Spain, France and Italy), though just friendly enough, can be awfully lackadaisical to a degree I cannot comprehend. (Maybe I should have re-read last summer's post before this trip, but I forgot!)
I could also blame my troubles on the challenges of traveling with a toddler (demanding, flighty, bossy, insane) or on my husband's personality of being a little spacey and self-focused, but, bottom line, how I react to things is my own problem and must be under my own control. Problem is, I did not keep it under control. I lashed out in frustrated stress and rage at both husband and child on countless occasions. I am ashamed of my reactions to their petty annoying actions (of which there are many) and although I could go into descriptions of what went down on the trip, all the things I had to endure that I could say drove me to my anger—many might understand why I'd get upset—I am not going to because to do so would suggest that I am making excuses or looking for sympathy. I didn't get alot of sympathy from my husband on the trip when I tried to make my troubles known, it was more like, this is the way it is, this is what you've chosen, what we've chosen. And, you know what? He is right. I chose him, with his personality as it is, and here we are. I chose to certain ways of parenting my daughter, and here we are. So I will have to skillfully act in ways that will best gently shift things in the way I need them to go, and I must start with myself.
I guess that's what I learned. And it seems that its a lesson I am forced to learn over and over and over again: that the only thing I can change is me. It is just too tiring and frustrating to try and change other people. And, if my own reactions make me feel worse than the perceived offenses of others against me, I have to find other ways to react, or not react at all.
***
I was thinking alot of getting a tattoo as a ritual experience to help me remember these life lessons (since I keep forgetting them in the moments of stress). In addition to the experience, I would then have the mark as a reminder. I'm having problems with following through on the permanence of a tattoo, though. I'm also afraid of the pain, although I understand this would add to the ritual experience of it. My husband doesn't want me to get it on my wrist, which is where I want to get it. He is worried about potential job interviews! So, I started "trying one on" by drawing the design I wanted (Sanskrit script of the word "namaste") with a Sharpie. It looks good and I am thinking that maybe drawing it on each day (or filling in where it is inevitably fading) could be a ritual/meditative process (it only takes a couple minutes) and might even be better than getting a permanent tattoo, since I would have to do it regularly and that would help remind me of the purpose and the message I am trying to give myself (basically, be nice and try to be understanding of and compassionate to others).
***
It's definitely a process, though. At the present moment I have locked myself in the bathroom to finish my post and my toddler is literally banging on the door wailing...mama!!!!!!!! I've played with her already. I've made her breakfast. She said she wanted to wash her hands and made a big deal about it, totally out of the blue. We go to wash her hands and now she doesn't want to, so now what? I am done. Seriously, what am I supposed to do when I can't get a moment to myself or finish a thought? I simply refuse to CONSTANTLY play with a child. I should not have to. I refuse to constantly give a child my attention. I am confident that I give her enough attention. She is just very demanding. She is a good girl, very smart, extremely cute, but she is very demanding and I've got to curb that. There is a difference between instilling self-esteem in a child and nurturing them versus letting them think they rule the world. I am at the point right now where it is extremely frustrating to me. I mean EXTREMELY. At the moment, I feel a tad bit betrayed by attachment parenting and extended nursing. What have I gotten myself into? We have never used a babysitter except my parents, once, when we were visiting. I am resentful that I don't get much alone time with my husband and that I am almost always "on" with nearly no breaks. (Yes, I go to the gym for an hour and a half or so, but that's not enough). This is not a sustainable way of living. All I can do is try to hold on and know that kids grow up, or at least turn three, right? That's when the madness is supposed to end, I hear. I know I have seriously digressed, but this needs to be said. Maybe others can take some comfort in the fact that other good moms feel anger and frustration? Whatever. I need to get it out. The post didn't start this way, but it is going to end this way. I will collect myself and go face her and try to be kind. I learned during the vacation that it doesn't work to vocalize my anger to my husband or my daughter, it somehow just ignites it and it explodes. Whereas, as I have been doing all weekend since I've drawn on my tattoo, I can just get mad quietly within myself and let it diffuse inside and vanish, and nobody gets hurt.
***
OK. Out of the bathroom. Gave her some attention and she is fine. Fine. I am trying to teach myself that it is alright to let a toddler have their tantrum. I used to respond quickly and actively to all her cries when she was a baby. My nature is that I can't stand the sound of a baby crying (not my baby, anyway) and think that I must be doing something wrong and need to take care of it right away. I guess evolutionarily that is a good thing. I am programmed to protect and care. But, as a baby becomes a toddler and a child, I have to let go and understand that she is going to need to freak out and not get what she wants when she wants it all the time...and I don't need to get mad or be resentful, it's just part of her growing—and mine.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment