mother vs self, Write to Heal

Upside-Down Paradigm

An ancient symbol of Hinduism, Adi Shakti, represents the sacred feminine. Her four symbolic weapons represent primal creative feminine power. The numerous weapons reflect the balance each individual female must make between woman and mother.

Not only is this a potent reminder of the balance women have always had to seek, but the innate and sacred power within us.

In fact, I’m all but convinced that women are so strong that Satan tried to set us up for inferiority for all eternity. When he chose Eve as the recipient of his tempting invitation in the garden, which he knew would enact the chain of events leading to (hu)man’s fall from grace, he did so with the full intent that the full blame would fall on her. She ate the forbidden fruit. She offered it to Adam. She instigated the break from God’s will. Never mind that he set her up. Thousands of years later Eve still bears the blame.

Childbirth was apparently meant to be painful, but the intensity ratcheting up a result of Eve’s transgression. Does this increase in pain (ie bad, negative) also lessen or taint the power of childbirth? At least in the eyes of male biblical scholars who punish the evil woman with it.

[I do find it interesting that Mary, the mother of Jesus, has been referred to as the ‘new Eve’, undoing the advent of sin ushered in by the first woman by bringing the life of her child – God’s child – into the world. Not to get too theological, but it does encourage me that perhaps the patriarchal tide will be spiritually stemmed – which many would find completely surprising coming from the Catholic Church!]

Another indicator of women’s strength is the fact that patriarchy pits us against each other. In our previous module, Propped up by Patriarchy, we started to explore this idea. That, in order to play by patriarchy’s rules, to achieve success in that paradigm, we often must out-play or cast out our female ‘competitors’.

A major reason Sarah McLachlan founded Lilith Fair was to fight the idea of record labels and promoters who often said, “but we already have a girl.”

It is the paradigm of patriarchy that there’s limited room for females in that space. At least a most favored or powerful one.

This idea is present in fairy tales even.

Snow White.

Historically, the Queen is an evil, hated character. But, “in the patriarchal Kingdom of the text these women inhabit the Queen’s life can be literally imperiled by her daughter’s beauty.” (The Madwoman in the Attic, Gilbert and Gubar) Is the Queen simply responding to the threat of her own demise? How devastating that her own power and vitality can’t exist alongside that of her burgeoning daughter.

It is not the men who create the ideal stereotype who endanger these women, mothers – at least not overtly. They’ve set the board for women to knock each other down.

In an article by Angie Hunt cited in the first module (Misguided Archetype), Kelly Oddenweller says “In some cases, [the ideal moms] are mothers who embody what our culture believes is a good mom and yet among mothers, they are treating each other very negatively.”

It is not that we live to tear others down; such attacks or negative attitudes come from insecurity. Fear of ‘looking bad’ or being less than fuels such animosity. And no woman I’ve known longs to be perfect or drive themselves into lunacy achieving insane standards.

No woman created the ideal mother.

Men, society encourage this to keep us from achieving our true power.

If we look back to Adi Shakti . . .

“Many of you will feel you don’t have the space or energy to pick up this sword, to recapture the true meaning of health, peace, and happiness. I argue that you don’t have the space or energy not to.”


Has society made you or your ways of being feel weak? How so?

  • Reflect on these instances, either one or one at a time.
  • What about these moments actually showed strength? Flip the paradigm and find the authenticity of your personal way of doing in that instance.

Where do you take up your sword?

  • Do you feel the upside down quality of the paradigm and try to operate outside of it? How so?
  • If you haven’t yet or can’t think of a time you did, find one now that, going forward, you can flip to your advantage. Write on how you’ll do things differently in that instance.
  • Do you carve out time and space for you as a woman? Does doing so feel like a fight?

What is your relationship to the shield?

  • Do you revel in protecting and caring? Is it an honor? Or a burden? Sit with this in writing for a few minutes.
  • Do you find it challenging yet rewarding? Or do you feel it is thrust upon you (at least this version of it) by the misshapen paradigm?
  • Reflect on ways you can wield the shield to best protect your version of motherhood.
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Living, Recovery

Wine before Beer

Once upon a time, I wore straw hats and strappy tank tops while I tasted wine alfresco.  I sampled champagne paired with complementary bites of savory food.  I dined with my husband for as long as it took to finish that amazing bottle of wine just shipped from California.

Now I drink beer from the bottle.

The shift started somewhere during my second pregnancy.  The mere whiff of a freshly opened bottle of beer would set me to salivating.  I thought for sure I was having a boy since beer is not the drink that comes to mind when picturing a ladies’ tea.  Plus, I never drank it.  I would’ve fit right in with a bunch of teetotalling ladies in college.  I didn’t really enjoy the taste of any alcohol.

But, as they say, it’s an acquired taste.  A glass of wine with dinner here, some fruity drink there.  By the time I came home from my honeymoon in Napa, I was well versed in obnoxious adjectives like full-bodied, oakey, and well-rounded bouquet.  Eventually I branched out to ‘heartier’ reds.  And by then I was ready for lagers, ales, and now, even the occasional stout.

It only makes sense, really.  If someone were to tell me on my wedding day what was coming down the pike in the next three, five, seven years, there would’ve been no way I could’ve handled it.  Three babies?  Who one by one spirited away a little bit more of my independence?  No more travel?  No more carefree weekends?  No more Monday-night-kill-the-bottle dinners?  Agonizing self-doubt?  Guilt?  Depression?

I started out with the light, fruity stuff; the bright, refreshing tastes of youth.  My tastes changed as the years went by, the experiences deepened.  Spicy zins for when things got dicey.  Bitter hops when the shit hit the fan.  Luckily, I never hit the hard stuff.

I’m not a fine bottle of wine, getting better with age.  I identify more with the wizened old man sipping his beer at the end of the bar, the lines on his face telling the story of where he’s been.  I know my life is not refined as it may have once been.  Lately, it’s been hardscrabble more often than not.  But I might be okay with that.  Now I can handle what life throws at me, more than I may have been able to at the start of this journey.  I can enjoy the acidic bite following a sip of ale.  And I can more readily appreciate the sweet in its stark contrast.

 

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