Different

Being different it hard. Choosing to do things differently than the majority of other people is fucking hard.

It is accepting that most of the time you’ll be the only one with your ideas and beliefs. That you’ll always feel like you are working against the grain. That you’re alone. It is accepting that you won’t have anyone who supports you other than your spouse (and I know for some, not even that).

I’ve been in a terrible funk lately. I contribute it to poor sleeping, too much sugar, and being different.

Because, well, sometimes I want support. I told J this today.

He supports me. Amazingly so. He tells me every day how proud and happy he is to have me for a wife. That he loves how I’m not afraid to question everything. How I’m totally cool if the whole world hates me or thinks I’m crazy. Because I do what is right.

I have immense morals and values that no one ever instilled in me. J is amazed that someone with such a morally jaded childhood can be so damn straight-laced. Maybe too straight-laced sometimes.

For the most part, I don’t need anyone to agree with me. I’m happy alone. I’m happy in my beautiful bubble with my beautiful, happy, amazing family.

But sometimes, yes, I would like some support. It’s a lot to ask for, I know.

It’s hard.

I mean, other than genital mutilation, which I’ll never be on board with, and abuse, I respect every parents decision that they make for their child. Even if it drastically differs from mine. Even if I don’t understand it.

I don’t think less of those parents. Not even a little bit. I do think that maybe they just don’t know. Sometimes I genuinely hope that’s the case. Sometimes I realize they are doing things because their spouse “won’t let” them do things differently. And that makes me sad. Because kids pick up on that stuff and I feel like everyone deserves a better relationship then that..

But I do also realize that people make choices completely different than me, being well informed, because they want to!

And that’s okay.

I SUPPORT YOU!

I won’t shut up though about why I make my choices. I won’t shut up about my choices. Because I know that sometimes people hear me.

And more than one person has told me that their sweet baby boy was left intact because of information I shared. That even when they were exhausted and at the point of a breakdown they didn’t abandon their baby in a crib all by themselves and let them scream because of something I shared with them. That they thought twice before spanking their child. Before punishing them at all.

So it makes it worth it. It makes being different worth it when good things happen to babies and children (and their parents!) because of my “different” ideas. (Though they don’t seem so different.)

The hard part is I’m constantly changing my ideas. Drastically. Because I’m constantly learning knew things.

I mean, in education beliefs alone I’ve changed so drastically in 2.5 years. I went from feeling strongly about giving my children a good Catholic education, to wanting simply a good academically-structured education, to believing strongly in the Montessori principles (and some I still do), to feeling strongly about homeschooling, and now I’m leaning more toward unschooling.

It makes me feel crazy sometimes how much I change. So I get how others can feel bonkers too.

And I know everyone is at their one place in their learning journey. Some people are lightyears ahead of me and I won’t catch up for several more years. Some are where I was at one point in time. Others are one a completely different path.

Some people do share some of my ideas in theory. I told J that it’s hard though, because I’m often doing things alone when it comes to reality and to the actual practice of my beliefs.

I’m the one not forcing their child to say “I’m sorry” at the playdates. So I appear to be a rude and permissive parent. But I model the behavior for my child. To me, “I’m sorry” means nothing if it’s not genuine. And if you have to be told to say it, then it is NOT genuine.

But I get that other people tell their child to apologize because they feel it’s the right things to do. Because that’s how they were raised. Because they don’t question it. Because they don’t want “society” to think their child is rude.

I understand. And yet I’m so alone most times in my understanding of my own beliefs.

And that’s okay too.

I lamented to J that so many people feel I have “failed” because of my adult-choices. And while I don’t care what others think, I feel very confident in my decisions, it still hurts sometimes that the people who are supposed to care, to love you, don’t always support you.

But while discussing these, let’s face it, ridiculous feelings with J, I also said, “I don’t want my children to be like everyone else. How can I be the same and do the same if that’s not what I want for them?”

So I’m different. I have a different way of doing things. I’m a different kind of person. My children will be amazingly different.

And if I do it without the support of anyone but J, that’s okay. Because he’s the only one I need to support the decisions regarding our family at the end of the day anyway.

I realized long ago that the boat with my family’s support sailed. Long before I ever even had a chance. And that’s okay.

I’m different.

Luckily.

Thankfully.

Because I couldn’t be like some other people. I couldn’t let J make all the decisions. I wouldn’t obey if he said “Let them cry themselves to sleep.” In fact, I’d scoop up my babes and walk right out the door, and I’d keep on walking until the divorce papers were signed. And he knows that. And he agrees with that. I couldn’t drink my unhappiness away (I’m not unhappy). I couldn’t leave my kids in the care of someone else all day. Or all week. Because although I like a break, I like being with them. Yes, there will come a time when they are older that I’m sure they will spend time with someone so J and I can finally have our honeymoon. But it will not be for a long time. And not until there is actually someone out there willing to keep them, ha ha.

Just because I can have a paying job, doesn’t mean I will. Just because I can go to law school or grad school and be “successful” by most of society’s standards doesn’t mean I will. Or should.

We both decided when we had kids that they would always come first. Because, you know, we’re different. So that means there are nights that J and I spend very little or no time together because our kids need us. There are times we are tired. Exhausted.

And times we feel incredibly alone in this journey.

But I’m realizing that that is okay.

 

The people who do support me are mostly childless friends. Which doesn’t make their support any less amazing, but it’s different. It’s one thing to be able to talk to someone without kids about how exhausted you are because B hasn’t slept decently in two weeks and you just want 6 hours straight of sleep without anyone touching you. It’s another to be able to whine about this to a friend with children. One who chose different sleep arrangements for their children.

How amazing it would be if I could lament about sleep issues to someone who sleep trained their child and their first words not be, “Oh, you need to night-wean him! Oh, you need to have him in his own bed! Oh, you need to let him cry it out!” Wouldn’t it be freaking amazing if instead, although having made different decisions, they could say, “Yeah, infants and toddlers are craptastic sleepers. I feel for you.” Or even just, “That sucks.” Or “I hear you.” You don’t have to agree with how we’re sleeping. I understand you may have no advice because you don’t know any other way than what you chose for your children.

I just want someone to listen. To sympathize. To be a supportive FRIEND.

I’ve never flat out told a friend who has chosen to sleep train their child that they should co-sleep instead. I’ve never encouraged someone not to wean their infant or toddler. I’ve never told someone who has smacked their child in front of me what they could have done instead.

I respect everyone’s decisions. And I support them! I’ve helped friends find gentle ways to wean their babies. Just because it’s not what I’m doing, doesn’t mean I cannot or will not be supportive.

And yet it seems so ridiculously hard for others sometimes.

To some my choices are fearless and bold. J says that people cannot support ideas they envy, but are too afraid to implement themselves. That although many people would like to change, they just can’t without support.

So I understand. Because it’s a scary thing to do on your own.

I was scared, too.

I was scared the first time I admitted I would still breastfeed my child after a year old. I was scared the first time I admitted my child was sleeping in my bed. I was terrified the first time I stood firmly by my belief that I will not send my children to school. I was scared when I first ventured down the path of non-punitive parenting.

It’s scary. It’s scary to do new things. It’s scary to be the only one you know doing them.

But scary is good sometimes. Sometimes it can be revolutionary.

But it doesn’t mean it’s easy.

It’s hard. Incredibly hard. It’s hard to be the one still whipping out a boob for an almost 3 year old when everyone else is saying, “Dear God, haven’t you weaned her yet?” It’s hard to refrain from saying, “H you need to share that with Sally” when you know Sally’s mom is waiting for you to say such because it’s “right.” It’s hard when you tell the nice lady passing out candy canes, “No, thank you,” and it’s hard when you just have to sit awkwardly while everyone else talks about sending their kids off to kindergarten and you know that is not in the cards for yours.

So I’m different. Maybe when my kids are grown, I won’t be so different. Or maybe I will.

But at least my kids will know that it is okay to be different. It is okay to have different ideas. Different beliefs.

People once believed the sun revolved around Earth and that the world was flat. People once thought it was okay to own people and to discriminate based on something as silly as the color of skin. People once thought it was okay for husbands to beat their wives and for little girls to have their genitals mutilated.

So just because the majority believes something, doesn’t always means its right. This gives me the courage to be different. To stand alone when needed.

Maybe someday my grandchildren will be horrified that people used to think it was okay to hit their children. To yell at them. To belittle them. Maybe they will think the idea of sending 5 year olds to school for 8 hours a day to recite the alphabet and trace letters and forced to take standardized tests is ridiculous. Maybe they will be well-educated in the power of breast milk. Maybe they will have better knowledge of the chemicals in vaccines and they won’t accept artificial food coloring or GMO’s in their foods and processed shit will be a thing of the past.

Or maybe not.

But at least they will know there is a different option. An acceptable alternative. And that it’s okay to be different.

And that their family, (J, sibling, and I) will support them.

Even if they’re doing it alone.