Over the weekend I received some exciting news. Getting Past Perfect: Finding Joy & Grace in the Messiness of Motherhood won second place in the “Family” category of the 2018 Catholic Press Association Awards. To say I was honored and surprised by this honor is an understatement. I perused the winner list several times, and each and every time I saw my book and byline I was almost as awed as Ralphie admiring his father’s major award (“FRAGILE! It must be Italian!”).
In all seriousness, I’ve often said this book was carved from my heart. I shared intimate anecdotes, a peek into my struggle with depression and anxiety, and my innermost maternal fears along with my signature self-deprecating humor in the hope that some other moms out there wouldn’t feel so alone in their own struggles as a mother and/or as daughter of God.
I felt called to write a book that wouldn’t be just another “motherhood is a beautiful vocation” book (and please know that I definitely believe these books are important and that there is a place for them as well as a season when I needed to read them; they were very helpful early on in my mothering journey). I’d read many that were filled with encouraging, pump-you-up snippets, but some of the affirmations honestly felt like empty platitudes when I was having a really bad day in the trenches.
I also longed to see a book on motherhood that was honest and authentic without undermining the vocation’s sublimity or acting like kids weren’t worth the challenges. Children are undoubtedly blessings and not burdens; however, they sometimes they can feel like burdens. So what do you do about that? How do you handle the dichotomy of motherhood – the blessings and the brutally difficulty of it at times? I tried to write a book that would answer some of these questions without coming off as (too) whiny or unappreciative of the gift of motherhood. I wanted a book my kids could read some day when they become parents and be affirmed and encouraged but not feel like I was miserable raising them or that they sucked the life out of me. (One of my daughters has already read most of the book and chuckled her way through a lot of it, exclaiming, “Ha! I remember that crazy day.” Some of our rough moments are now just crazy memories. Thank God for that!)
Now I know I fell short in many ways, but I gave my best – and pieces of my heart – and I’ve been blessed with many personal notes from fellow moms that the book helped. Of course, some of my fears about putting book out of its nature out there were realized. I was pridefully afraid there would be readers who didn’t get it or get me and, in fact, I did read a few Goodreads reviews that seemed to assert these fears. One reviewer said she didn’t love it and wasn’t a fan of mommy self-help books. Another offered a mostly positive review, but she added that some of the chapters felt fluffy and that she felt like I was an oversharing, vulnerable and needy person rather than someone who was independent and thoughtfully-reserved like people she typically respects. The same reviewer shared that it seemed like I was someone who called upon friends and family every single day (evidence of my neediness, I suppose).
Do negative reviews like this that make assumptions and judgment calls about me rather than just my writing style hurt a little bit? Of course. I’ve often said writing a book is little like giving birth and when someone offers a negative opinion, it would be like my midwife handing me my tiny treasure after all my sweat, tears, and labor and flatly saying, “Here you go. Your baby is ugly.”
It’s also always tempting for a recovering perfectionist to collapse into a heap of self-doubt at the first sign of critique and to forget all the other positive reviews, but I’ve come a long way because it bothered me just a bit when I first saw that particular review. However, I didn’t re-read it or obsessively check back for more negative reviews. In fact, I just logged on to Goodreads today because I wanted to write about those reviews and how they didn’t break me. So I’m not as needy as I once was. Take that.
When I re-read the criticism today, I also found a lot of irony in the statement because I really don’t like to call on people or use the telephone to even order pizza. Likewise, I’ve had to work really hard at reaching out to others to ask for help. I’m getting exceptionally good at it, however, as my family has grown. I consider this a success, not a failure. I spent so much of my life trying to not appear needy and too come off as a strong, independent woman that I nearly fell apart from the pressure of it all. In many ways, sharing my neediness – my humanness – is what saved me.
As for vulnerable, yes, that is me because if I’m going to be authentic, then I’m going to have to strip off the “everything is just peachy” mask sometimes and admit that I am struggling and therefore, I may continue come across as needy at times. Yet, vulnerability is a strength. It’s all a part of the feminine genius. Although vulnerability is not one of the feminine gifts specifically attributed to the Saint Pope John Paul II’s feminine genius – that is unique gifts to women that set them apart – I see it as critically necessary for the four the feminine strengths outlined in the Letter to Women (receptivity, sensitivity, generosity, and maternity). I could write an entire post on how vulnerability is woven throughout each of these gifts (and maybe I will), but for now I just want to champion for more vulnerability and authenticity in this age of highly-curated social media feeds.
If it sounds like I’m being a wee bit defensive, I probably am. Sensitivity is a definite strength of mine. In fact, I possess many of the highly sensitive person traits as do two of my children. Yet, the truth is I know praying and writing Getting Past Perfect have helped me more than hindered or hurt me because a few years ago when I would receive any negative commentary after a blog post or about my mothering or running or whatever, I would act all confident and respond with charity (I felt the compulsion to charitably respond to every single person who commented favorably or not), but inside I was crumbling. I was so focused on the negative that I’d overlook all the good I did.
In running, I was focused on winning or being better than the one person in my running group who was faster than I was instead of focusing on my own race.
In mothering, I wanted everyone to see me as the uber mom who had it together all the time and homeschooled her kids and loved every minute of it. I did liturgical crafts with my kids even though I didn’t particularly enjoy doing more elaborate crafts, and glue and glitter combined with little hands made me twitchy, and my kids often learned more about how Mom is a psycho mom around messes than about the Jesse Tree or Jesus’ genealogy.
As a young woman, I wanted my body to look a certain way even if it meant depriving myself of sustenance or exercising too hard and too long.
As a student, I had to make straight As. Any lower mark was a global pronouncement that I was smart or capable of critical thinking.
Even as a Catholic, I often did things that made me look like a woman of virtue while ignoring the fact that faith is not about something but Someone, and I’d better work on being close to God rather than to trying to please His sometimes judgmental entourage that can oftentimes be overly focused with the “outside cup” and how holy we appear on the outside. A few years ago I would have been stressed if my teenager said she wanted purple hair (for the record: my teenager is currently content with her natural hair color), but now I see that she’s a caring kid who loves Jesus, so who really cares what color her hair is?
Along the same vein, I know my writing will never please everyone. My style isn’t for every reader. My self-deprecating humor might not click with the masses. I do sometimes feel like I’m over-sharing, especially since I have a very private husband, but I’ll tell you two things. First, I don’t share everything. Trust me. There’s plenty that will never ever be seen on social media or in a book. Second, it’s often my most vulnerable posts that lead to emails from people who were suffering whether from an eating disorder and depression or from hurting as a mom. If one or two people feel like they’re not alone because of how I’ve put myself out there even while the rest think I’m an oversharing, needy weirdo, then it’s worth it.
People will see words that I hold near and dear and had to find courage to write as fluff. But that’s okay. I’m not going to focus on all that. Because I won a freakin’ major award.
In all seriousness, I’m going to hold close to the emails and messages sent via social media and the women I’ve met during speaking engagements who have approached me with tears in their eyes and have just said a simple thank you or have confessed in a hushed tone, “I thought I was the only one…”
Nope. You’re not the only one who sometimes wants to play a really, really long game of hide and go seek with your kids as the professional hider while they are the endless seekers.
You’re not the only one who sometimes misses your old life – the one where you wore high-waisted jeans because they were trendy and not to hold in your postpartum Jello belly.
You’re not the only one who feels like you don’t completely fit in with the secular world but that you’re also not really in the same league as you’re super-cool-mom-of-many friends who can swiftly parallel park their passenger vans and bake bread from scratch every day.
You’re not the only one who loves your children so intensely it’s visceral and frightening but who also who sometimes resents the little black holes of needs you’re constantly having to fill.
You’re not the only one who has experienced anxiety, depression, or obsessive compulsive tendencies or some other mental illness and have lived in fear that you’re “ruining” your children with your “craziness.”
You’re not the only one who is laughing hysterically with your children one minute and then crying just as hysterically while hidden in your bathroom because you’re not sure you can handle one more minute of this mothering gig without losing your shit (at least you won’t be the only one losing your poop because your baby has had three explosive diapers in less than 24 hours).
You’re not the only one who looks at your sleeping teenager and wants to weep because you still can see glimpses of the baby she once was, but you know in a few short years she will be gone. Just like that.
Of course, you’re also not the only one who wants to slap the sweet grandma in the face at the grocery store when she tells you to cherish these years and enjoy your children while they’re still at home because just this morning you were dealing with teenage sass, a tantruming toddler, and a 6-year-old boy who wants to martyr his sister the good, old-fashioned way (by chopping off her head), and you wonder what is wrong with your children and/or your parenting? And how did it come to this? And won’t it be kind of nice to be alone in an empty, quiet, and neat nest?
You’re not the only one who wants to please others, make them happy, give of yourself, and make a difference in your family and in the world, but you find that doing these things or even just trying to always leaves you winded and feeling like your treading water with your head just above the surface.
You’re also not alone when you have happy, amazing days where you notice all the little blessings and celebrate the small successes and pump your fist in the air (and then get the wind knocked out of you because your preternaturally strong toddler imitates your fist-pumping action and gets you in the gut).
No matter what you’re feeling or have felt, you’re not alone. There will be plenty of people who don’t get you. Some of these same people might even scoff at you or not be receptive to you, your sharing, or your feelings. Whatever. Remember, there are also a lot of people who might just get you or even if they don’t, they will encourage you and offer kindness even if true empathy isn’t possible.
And God will always get you. He created you. He loves you. He’s got your back.
Does all this sound like fluff? Yes, I have to admit it does. As much as I want to come across as cerebral – even to the point that I walked the line of agnosticism for awhile because I was tempted to believe rational thought was mutually exclusive to faith – sometimes I have to write and believe more like a child. That pleases God, too. “Let the little children come to me…” Not childish ones who are quick to bully others or to screech, “Mine! Mine! Mine” but ones with a child-life faith – a faith that accepts and trusts and knows that being authentic as well as embracing an authentic faith means that there will be naysayers. There will be rejection. And in this day and age of social media, it also means those naysayers have a platform where they can voice themselves and their critiques against you, your words, your heart, and your faith.
But you keep putting yourself out there. Because God asks you to. And because there will be rewards – sometimes even in the form of an award that you’re incredibly honored and blown away to receive. Woot! Woot!
But perhaps the best reward is your newfound peace and your willingness to keep trying but to also give yourself permission to embrace this perfectly imperfect life and your humanness.
So thank you Catholic Press Association for the honor (be sure to check out all of the winners – there are so many good books out there!). And thank you to all of my readers who have left a positive review or dropped me a line to let me know how much they enjoyed Getting Past Perfect or even needed it. And if you haven’t written a review over on Amazon, Goodreads, Barnes & Noble, or wherever, would you mind doing so when you get a chance? My needy, affirmation junkie self would be so grateful! I also want to say thanks to all the readers who let me know they weren’t crazy about the book. You help to keep me humble and human and in recovery for perfectionism while reminding me that I can’t please everyone, and that never was my calling or mission in the first place.
Now aside from my novel, I have to figure out what my next book will be. Any suggestions?
Congratulations on your award winning book. God Bless you and yours.
Marion and Marilyn
Thank you so very much. I am so grateful for this honor. God bless!