Five ideas that changed me

Jen from Conversion Diary wrote about the ideas that changed her a while back, and I have been thinking about what ideas, if any, affected me similarly ever since I read that post. I've finally compiled my list of five.

~ 1 ~

Multiple subpersonalities

I always thought it was indicative of instability or immaturity if a person acted very differently depending on who's company they were in. The goal of wellness, I thought, was to be as integrated as possible. My psychiatrist a while ago told me there is a school of thought that rather sees each person as a composite of many different subpersonalities, and each subpersonality or persona needs an opportunity to come to the forefront or else the whole person experiences unrest.

This has completely revitalized my way of seeing myself, particularly as a mother. In my previous idea of "integration" I believed the ideal mother to be a nurturing, ever-patient, sit-on-the-floor-and-play-endless-games-of-peekaboo type. Perpetually.

Yet by necessity I have to occasionally take on a more Drill Sergeant-like Persona, where I give orders ("Clean your room! Yes, now!") and I would feel guilty that I wasn't being a truly good mother, the Earth Mother/Madonna type that I had idealized.

Thanks to this insight into psychology, I realize that both subpersonalities exist in me, and if I don't let both sides out at various times, I will become very unhappy.

Also, and perhaps even more importantly, this Subpersonalities theory validates my absolute need to spend time apart from my children. The morning after a Mom's Night Out, I am so much more refreshed and happy around my children, because I allowed the plain ol' Woman in me to go and talk with some friends and perhaps drink a glass of wine (gasp!).

(According to Wikipedia, the average person has a dozen subpersonalities. That seems like a lot.)

~ 2 ~

Prayer is a means to an End

This might sound theologically sticky, so I hope I can quickly explain myself, lest you think I am a heretic.

People -- that is, I -- tend to talk about having a 'prayer life' like it should be a set and specific thing. That is, if I get up at a certain hour and meditate on Scripture, then I am having a "good prayer life." Never mind that leading the children in praying at bedtime, the brief prayers said throughout the day while going about my duties of the moment, grace before meals, and so forth, are, in fact, praying.

One's "prayer life" isn't about fulfilling a list of recommended tasks like checking things off a big to-do list.

"Aren't I soooo holy?! I say a daily Rosary and get to Mass every day and blahblahblah."


It's about a relationship with God. Much of my relationship with Him by necessity is on-my-feet, brief whispered aspirations.

~ 3 ~

The importance of community

I've only just started reading C.S. Lewis' "The Great Divorce" so I can't testify to it's overall brilliance, but, it is C.S. Lewis, so I reasonably suspect it will be a great read. In any case, I was so struck by his image of Hell. It's one sprawling, hideous, and completely barren city, because people keep moving further and further apart from one another.  As soon as they quarrel with their neighbour, they pick up and move elsewhere to be more alone. Hell, then, is an endless futile attempt to escape relationships with others.

The flip side of that is so illuminating to me. We are relational beings. We need to live in proximity to one another to be whole, to be well, to be closer to God. Trying to retreat into our own space at the first spark of conflict or discord will only lead to our own unhappiness.

~ 4 ~

"Attunement parenting" as opposed to attachment parenting

I faithfully read everything I could get my hands on by Dr. Sears when I was a first-time mother. I loved his approach and the wisdom of being responsive to the emotional needs of a child which leads to a secure and attached relationship with his parents. I read countless times that children who are parented in the "attachment" approach actually go on to be more independent because they had their needs met in the crucial early years of development.

I still believe all those notions, strongly, I would add. The trouble, though, is that attachment parenting has developed an "ism" status, as though one must adhere to a rigid list of rules in order to form that all-important mother-child bond. 

I read a wonderful article about attachment theory and the importance of being attuned to the emotional needs of one's children, without necessarily using each of the attachment parenting practices, and it was tremendously helpful to me. By many people's standards, I am very much an attachment parent -- I breastfeed on demand and have nursed each of my children into toddlerhood, I co-sleep and I babywear. But I don't practice each of these as a necessarily superior form of mothering -- I do own a crib and prefer when I can get my baby to sleep in it because then every little rustle or movement she makes doesn't disturb my sleep. I like having bouncy seats and exersaucers as safe places to put down the baby so I can have my hands free to do housework, cook and tend to my other children. Babywearing is absolutely wonderful but it isn't something I can or wish to do for hours upon hours.

Why am I even including this 'item' on my list? Because my shift from strict Sears-ian attachment parenting to "attunement parenting" has alleviated a tremendous amount of guilt from me. I spoke about this to my psychiatrist and he says he regularly counsels parents who are crippled with guilt by not following the "rules" of attachment parenting to the letter. I could relate to this. If it weren't for a change in my mindset, that could likely be me, too.

~ 5 ~

A slightly different translation of Psalm 46:10

I'm sure you're familiar with the beautiful Scripture verse "Be still and know that I am God." Those words have always given me comfort. It wasn't until recently, though, when I read a different translation of the same verse that my eyes were opened to a whole new sense of this verse, and how it impacts my life. The translation is "Cease striving and know that I am God.

I realize how often I find myself striving, whether it's in an attempt to have a perfectly ordered home (as I live in a rather crippling fear of having drop-in guests), perfectly well-mannered children, or any other ideal but completely unrealistic goal. When I am striving, I place perfection, or rather, the appearance of perfection, over relationships. It makes me less patient with my children and husband, less attentive to my own needs for quiet and rest, and most disturbingly, less attentive to the still small voice of God. It's no surprise that this verse places these two notions together -- "cease striving" and "know that I am God." It doesn't say, "cease striving and take a nap" although sometimes that may be precisely what God is asking of me. It is an invitation to cease striving and check into what the Father wills for me, which, without fail always reminds me that the rat race for perfection is pointless. In fact, when I am attempting to make everything "just so" I am committing a certain form of idolatry. I need to remind myself that He is God, and I am just a pencil in His hand.