facing my uncomfortable truths

I recently came across an article by Laurie Penny called The Queer Art of Failing Better, about the show Queer Eye, and I read it because I recently fell head over heels for Queer Eye. As I read, the article kinda took my breath away-- it says many of the things I felt about the show, but also touches on so many aspects of patriarchy and masculinity in our culture and comfort zones and honestly it was one of the best things I feel I have read this year.

I was not familiar with Laurie Penny before this, and immediately knew I had to seek out her other writings.

So I checked out Bitch Doctrine, her book of essays, from the library. The first few essays cover the 2016 election and were in many ways cathartic to read. And then, came this essay, where she recommends that women should probably just be single in our 20s. Reading it reminded me of how I felt when reading A Room of One's Own... and I don't know that I can articulate the feelings properly, but it's like a mix of recognition, discomfort, and guilt, maybe? Of the things that Might Have Been, in another lifetime.

Zach and I got married when we were 23 years old. We had our first kid at 27. I, clearly, was very much not single in my 20s. Now, I want to be clear here-- I don't want to imply in any way that I regret any of those choices we made-- I love the life we have built, and my family, and what we have. I am grateful for the privilege of being able to make this choice for ourselves. I believe strongly in the freedom for women and mothers (and parents of all genders) to opt to stay home with the kids, and that caregiving work is work and worthwhile and valuable and needed, and should be valued as much as any other kind of work. 

And yet there is also a part of me that feels a bit uncomfortable with being so beholden, financially, to my husband, regardless of how enlightened and supportive he may be. It feels like a betrayal of sorts, like I'm a fraud of a feminist. A small part of me wonders what I would have done with my life had I not devoted the vast majority of my time and energy these past ten-plus years to my husband and children. And there's the uncomfortable truth that it might not have been much-- I've never been a super driven or ambitious person. I never had big dreams for myself or a fancy career or whatever. Honestly, I'm kinda lazy.

The other uncomfortable truth is that a part of me has been more than happy to be the at-home parent, and simply follow along on my husband's adventures as we moved across state and international lines for his career, because it meant I didn't have to make hard choices for myself. That's the part that makes me feel the most like a fraud of a feminist.

I sometimes feel like my entire identity is tied to my husband and children, and I wonder, what am I aside from my relationship to them? What is there that is just my own, who would I be without them? Would I have ever opened up my own Montessori school, a life goal I once entertained? Would I have become a prominent feminist activist writer? I would like to think so (one of my prominent thoughts while reading Penny's writings is "I kinda wanna be her when I grow up"). But then again, couldn't I be that now? What's stopping me? I feel like I have a lot I could write but don't. I comfort myself by listing all the reasons why I don't get around to writing more, from it being difficult to focus on writing when my attention is constantly being diverted by people big and small in my household (I'm trying to write this in the middle of the day, while the words are fresh in my mind, and I've had my kids come and ask me for something-or-other at least 3 times since I sat down) to my own insecurities about whether what I have to say is at all interesting or worthy of anyone's attention.

Then I hear the voice of my best friend who, when I once listed out these reasons to him, looked at me and said, "Marce, those are all really dumb reasons not to write." He's right, of course. As usual.

So, I'm trying. It sometimes feels like I'm stuck. The comfort of our "normal" keeps pulling me back, because making any sort of meaningful changes is uncomfortable. Writing a vulnerable post like this one is uncomfortable (I'm hoping to finish and hit "publish" before I lose my nerve). Trying to set actual, concrete goals is scary as shit. I have vague ideas of goals I want to achieve or explore, but need to carve out some space to be able to sort through them and allow those ideas to take on a more solid form.  I'm starting to feel like a broken record because I've written echoes of this post a few times over the years. So maybe it's time to finally get my shit together.