Part 2: Standing in My Power

As I neared my black belt, I became restless in my bartending career and wanted to do more to help others. I decided to do the training required to volunteer at the local non-profit victim advocacy program for intimate partner violence. It was during this training that I realized I was, in fact, in an emotionally abusive relationship. Once again, my self-concept was rocked at its core. How could I possibly be in an abusive relationship when I am such a strong, brave woman? It's not like he hits me...

It took some time for the reality to fully set in. I did not want to believe it could be true. Yet, the more I stepped into my authentic personhood, the clearer it became.

***

The beach house was everything for which I had hoped. The ocean view was breathtaking, and the beach was close enough to hear the waves' soothing rhythm as I stood on the deck. I could taste the salt in the air as I took a deep breath, trying to ground myself and connect to the surging energy I typically felt on beach trips. It was supposed to be a time of celebration and relaxation. I had achieved something monumental and should be feeling victorious and triumphant. I attempted to give myself an internal pep talk. Few people can say they earned a black belt, especially those nearing 40. I did it; I went all the way just as I promised myself I would all those years ago. So why do I feel so flat, so… empty? It was like I was detached from my body, a distant observer.

I wanted to bask in the moment and enjoy the beauty, but everything felt muted, lacking color and substance. I breathed a heavy, audible sigh. What is wrong with me? I wondered as I prepared to return inside to join my family for dinner. Maybe I am just still mentally and physically exhausted from the exertion of the 8-hour black belt test. It was only a couple of days ago. I put on my happy face and went inside. I want my girls to have fun on this trip, even if I cannot. 

. . .

I was about to drift off to sleep when my partner abruptly barged into the room, throwing open the bedroom door and turning on the light. "The girls are still awake in their room." His tone was so hostile that there must be some more considerable transgression I was unaware of. "What?" I said, trying to figure out what exactly the problem was. 

"You need to go in there and tell them it is time to go to bed and they need to be quiet." 

I listened momentarily and could hear happy giggles from the next room, nothing extreme. "I was almost asleep; why are you waking me because they are laughing?" I grumbled with frustration. 

"You don't get to check out and go to sleep until they do. They need discipline and routine. You don't even care if they brush their teeth. How will they ever learn good habits if you do not even care enough to hold proper expectations? You are their mother after all, so you need to go see to it that they go to bed at an appropriate hour."

An immediate heat washed over my body, my face flushed hot, and rock formed in my stomach as his harsh words hit a tender chord he had strummed for years. "They are on vacation too; it is only 10:00… I don't see why –"

He cut me off. "Typical. You are so selfish, always putting your own needs before what is best for your daughters. Kids need structure to thrive, not lazy permissiveness. It is with structure that they know they are loved, and you actually care about their best interests." 

Here we go again… His words felt tangled and wrong but also somehow made sense, and once again, I was doubting myself. Doubting my worth as a mother. Doubting my mothering instincts. Maybe he is right, and I am too permissive. What if they think I don't care about them? They are 12 and 14, after all. It's not like they are toddlers. The gnawing internal conflict made my stomach flip/flop. I felt like I might wretch, and my body trembled. I wanted to cry and scream at the same time. Instead, I was silent. I got up, went to their room, and told them it was time to brush their teeth and go to bed. 

"We already brushed our teeth mom, why do we have to go to bed?" My oldest daughter questioned, with understandable frustration. 

"Can we please stay up a little longer? It's not that late and it's not like it's a school night." My younger chimed in.

I stood there just staring at them. It was only a second or two, but time felt distorted. Say something. My throat was tight. The rock in my stomach got even heavier. Their arguments were valid, weren't they? I wanted to give in and give them more time, but the seed of shame and doubt that had been growing left me fearing my own internal parenting compass. I didn't want to fail my girls by being too permissive. I also knew I did not have the capacity to deal with their stepfather if I challenged his expectations. The battle would be too much for me right now. I insisted they turn out the light and try their best to go to sleep.

I returned to my room and lay in bed with my eyes stinging. I felt hollow inside. My mouth was dry, and I felt small and weak like I might curl up and dissolve into nothingness in the sheets. My thoughts spun around in my head. The internal battle had me dizzy with doubt and fear. It was as if I was split in two; one part of myself was drowning and reaching up, desperate for rescue. The other part of myself was standing there watching me, unable to lift my hand, frozen in place but screaming at me to swim. I just earned my black belt, goddamn it. How can I feel so weak and unsure of myself when it comes to my parenting?

The experience was a pivotal moment for me. I woke up the next day feeling like I failed as a parent that night. Not because I wanted to let them stay up or because I went to sleep before they did. Not because I was too permissive. I failed because I allowed self-doubt to make me question my parenting instincts and let myself believe I was not a good parent. I lost my trust in my own wisdom and was unable to stand my ground and act according to what I knew in my heart was right and true. I forgot who I was and let someone else push me down a path I disagreed with. I stepped out of my personal values to appease someone else. It was the final chink in the already cracking glass that had encased me for far too long. The realization in the aftermath enabled me to break free from the last of my perceived limitations and internalized self-doubt. I just needed to claim it. It was time to stand up for my daughters, trust in my motherly instincts. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but I knew what had to be done and was finally ready to stand in my own power.