On shame
Other than anxiety, I would say that shame has been one of the largest emotional forces in my life. And one could really argue that anxiety is a manifestation of the shame anyway, a way to pay psychic penance for whatever perceived screw-up I’ve made. I have shame around doing too much, or not doing enough. For wanting things and then immediately unwanting them. Shame for having shame and then shame for not having enough shame.
Sometimes I go into a spiral and think about all the mistakes I’ve made in my life and live in the little burrow of regret I’ve made and then I think about all those people who say things like, “no regrets,” and then I feel ashamed of myself for having so many regrets.
I felt a lot of shame around needing fertility treatment and then I felt shame when it worked for me and there were other people still struggling.
But somehow, even though it is a massive force of organized shame, the parenting shame seems to have missed me. If you’ve ever been around parents at a park, or eavesdropped on a mommy Facebook group then you know that parents can outshame the best of them. There is shame over what you ate while pregnant, shame over how you gave birth, shame over which stroller you bought, the type of diapers and wipes you use, if you swaddle or don’t swaddle, do you co-sleep? Breastfeed? Are you sleep-training? Oh holy shit you’d better be sleep-training! Did you read this book? Have you heard of this baby wizard? Are those organic carrot puffs? Is he walking? Talking? Do you work? Do you work too much? Are you back to your pre-baby body? Are you guys having sex? Are you registered for pre-school in two years? No? Yikes.
It’s a wild, overwhelming, total and complete mindfuck. And as someone who primarily dwells in the intersection between shame and anxiety, I’m shocked that I’m unfazed by most of it.
As parents Matt and I do what we think is safest and most loving for our baby but also what keeps us sane. If something doesn’t work for all of us we try something else but mostly we’re just figuring it out as we go and not getting too worked up about it. I don’t care if everything is organic and sugar-free. I happen to think TV is great and if a tiny screen gets my kid through the last 20 minutes of lunch at a restaurant then ya, screen time is awesome. It feels like as a society we’ve manifested this new micromanaged parenting style with no real endgame in sight. At the end of the day, what do all the black and white infant sensory cards, the Baby Einstein toys, the organic mush, the 5 after-school activities and the forest daycare really do? Are we trying to create a perfect human in an attempt to justify how run ragged we all are? Will it all be worth it if we can just figure out the formula, hack our way to being mega-moms? At the expense of what little sanity any of us have left?
I’m good luv, enjoy.
What I’m watching
Homecoming
I don't know why I resisted this new Amazon miniseries but it's actually really fucking good. Directed by Sam Esmail, the creator of Mr. Robot, Homecoming is a slow-moving, paranoid thriller that leaves you feeling both confused and riveted. It plays with our own preconceived notions about power, government and military but finds new ways to play with the stereotypes. Bobby Canavale stands out as a psychotic, goal-driven middle-manager desperate to get a seat at the head table.
The Ballad of Buster Scruggs
A perfect Cohen Bros affair - Buster Scruggs is a series of western fables held together by malice, chaos, humour and surprise. It's actually the perfect thing to put on during the holidays when you're stuck in a house with a bunch of family members who never want to watch the same thing.