Sometimes, I can stand up to those voices and recognize them as vestiges of my upbringing and societal conditioning.
Other times, in weaker moments, I rail against the demons of self-doubt, fists of anger ready for the fight, tears of uncertainty pooling around the past. But I will not drown. In moments of self-care, I recognize them for what they are, sometimes going as far as gracefully accepting them as an integral part of my whole progressing self. I put them to paper. Invite them to a proper debate. And I try very hard not to impose them on my children.
My daughter owes me no explanation, no excuse, no justification, no proof. She needs sleep now and she listens to her body. So when she does wake up, rested and recharged, her smile and beauty take my breath away. I hug her and say good morning and the nagging voices skitter into the corner to be swept up with the dust and crumbs of our lives. She will certainly learn or create or ponder more in the next few hours than I did worrying about her sleeping too late.
My daughter owes me no explanation, no excuse, no justification, no proof. She needs sleep now and she listens to her body.
I watch her eat breakfast with one hand while her heart paints with the other. Another gentler voice slips in then, one I’ve cultivated and welcomed with time and experience. It never shouts or shames or insists. It simply says, “trust.”
Ellen Rowland is the author of Everything I Thought I Knew, a collection of essays about living, learning, and parenting outside the status quo. She writes about culture, family, things that are good for the planet and life without school. She and her family currently reside on a small island in Greece where they plan to restore a goat barn and call it home. Contact Ellen via Facebook, Twitter or Instagram. Follow her family’s adventures at amuddylife.com. Click here to learn more about her book.
