Perspective in a No Kidding life

I have been struggling with what I might post today. I know what I'm going to write about next week. But today, I have been drawing a blank. As a result, I've been doing a lot of reading - of my drafts document, of previous posts, and of articles that have been referenced, discussed, and debated in the wider ALI blogging community. It has been interesting. The key theme that keeps coming up is that of perspective. 

It comes up because so often there is a lack of perspective. Too often parents are unable to put themselves in our shoes, to see their comments from our perspective. Or we might be angry at others, unable to fully understand their perspective, or understand what motivates their comments. Equally, it might be that we can fully understand the perspective from the other side, but equally, not agree with their conclusions. After all, I might hear and understand someone's perspective and the points they are making, but still, on balance, disagree with their statements or analysis or judgements or approach.

But when there is perspective, there is better balance. By trying to look at things from the perspectives of others, I understand that life is not always greener on the other side, that our "what-ifs" focus only on our dreams, not the myriad possible realities of life. Perspective therefore is really important to me. Developing it has helped me heal, it has helped me better understand others (including someone close to me), and it has helped me become more compassionate and forgiving. Though I've always had it (I credit that for being a middle child!), my approach is much more conscious these days. As a result, it has changed the way I think.

Perspective grounds me. It gives me balance. It helps me understand and appreciate my life. It also gives me more confidence in my own views, knowing that I have tried to consider the positions of all involved. That is liberating to someone who has always been more hesitant about volunteering my views.

Perspective is particularly valuable in our No Kidding lives, allowing us to legitimately mourn what we have lost, and at the exact same time, allowing us to embrace and enjoy what we have as a result. There's such freedom in that.

Other relevant posts include:

• Balance
• Pathways, not Barriers

Monday Miscellany: No Kidding Version

Further to my post last week, this week I am both thriving and wilting. It's hot. Thinking about my photo from last week's post makes me want a swim. I'm generally not crazy enough to swim in cold Wellington waters. Unless the heat continues. Though I probably would have been to the beach several times if I had kids at home. Maybe I'd even have dared to dip in the water. Even thinking about it is tempting!

Not that, at my age, I would still have kids at home. It's interesting to make that adjustment mentally. For twenty years, I have thought to myself things like, "I would be doing X if I had kids," or alternatively, "I wouldn't be able to do X if I had kids." I didn't do it to torture myself - not after the first few years anyway. But it was just a way of acknowledging my life. Still, I actually have to stop doing that now. Except for one, none of my peers still have kids at home. Our lives, superficially at least, are all very similar in that regard.

We were talking about money this morning. My husband said we are living beyond our means. We dug into that, and although we are not in fact doing so in general, our travel aspirations and scarily, rampant inflation, could take us close to that realm. Although of course, as we get older, our spending will drop - except perhaps on medical expenses that are not covered, or living expenses and assistance. And I got wondering whether people with children, in similar financial circumstances to us, think about these things as much. Our relatives with children will always have them as a financial back up, just as I was for my mother (although it wasn't really necessary), and my husband and his brothers were all there for his parents (though their frugality made it unnecessary also). If my sisters and brothers-in-law ever need funds, their well-educated kids will be there for them. Do they ever consciously acknowledge that? Does it make life easier for them? Or do they just take it for granted, I wonder?

Of course, in the interests of being fair, I also have to acknowledge those whose children might be more of a financial drain on their parents in their old age. Unless one of our nieces/nephews go rogue, or have terrible luck (always possible), we shouldn't have to deal with that. But parents can't ever really wash their hands of their children either. So it's a good reminder not to look at issues from only one perspective. 

 

Getting through, staying whole, and thriving

I found a quote the other day which I liked, and in following up who had said it originally, I went down a rabbit-hole of wonderful quotes, and spent an hour being inspired. The quote I was looking for was from the wonderful Maya Angelou, and when I found that, I found some of her other words that also apply to those of us who wanted to have children, however late in the piece, but who were unable to become parents. In fact, they take us through the gamut from that intial shock and grief, to finding ourselves, and emerging feeling strong and victorious.

“The only way out of something is all the way through it.” - Maya Angelou

Oh, this is so true! When I had my second ectopic pregnancy, I thought I knew all about ectopics. I thought I could get through the sadness and loss more quickly as a result, or even skip it. I was wrong.

“You may not control all the events that happen to you,
but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” 

I love this. It’s how so many of us feel about not having children. We wanted them. We have suffered loss, and we will continue to suffer loss. But we are not less because of that. We are not reduced. We are just changed from the people we were, or thought we were. In fact, in many ways we are stronger and better.

And finally, she said,

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.”

I’m still looking for the style, but otherwise, my life is exactly this. I can’t think of a better way to come out of infertility, and into a new, No Kidding life, with this as your mission in life.

 

 PS. I was thriving when I took this photo of water lilies on the Chobe River in Botswana last year.

 

Looking back on the blog: 2023

This week seems to be my week of reviewing 2023. It feels a bit weird, because I’m actively looking forward to 2024, I’m enjoying the arrival of summer (a fan on behind me, windows open all over the house, bright blue sky and sunshine, pohutukawa in bloom all over my suburb) and I’m full of enthusiasm for new projects this year. (I hope it lasts!)

So, back to the blog. I wrote 57 posts here in 2023, a few more than the last couple of years, but really I’m staying stable, which is at least encouraging, in my 14^th year of blogging here. I like to review my blog for the year, so here goes looking at some recurring themes:

So, back to the blog. I wrote 55 posts in 2022, a few more than 2021, but still fewer than 2020. There is still food for thought, but as I joked to a fellow blogger the other day, I am not afraid of repetition! But as I review my blogs from the year, as usual I see some themes. I don’t think I’ll list the posts I talk about here. Because I know that different people might take different things from them, especially as many posts started off with a grumble, then finished with a positive, or vice versa.

Speaking of grumbles, I do feel as if I grumbled a lot more in 2023 than I did in previous years. I wrote at least eight posts specifically about grumbles, or perhaps with acknowledgement of losses. 2023 was a year marking a lot of losses, a 20^th anniversary of loss, would-have-been 20^th birthdays, etc. And I just didn’t feel that great. And I decided that it was worth pointing out that even 20 years later, in a life that no longer focuses on childlessness, there are still ouch moments, times when it all comes back to me, times when I feel the losses.

That said, I also wrote eight posts about simply living my life, and enjoying it, embracing it. Posts about choosing our lives, being No Kidding and Happy, came easily to me in 2023 too. How about that for symmetry?

And the majority of my posts were about finding perspective, healing, and finding strength and compassion. Sometimes externally, but usually from the hard-won knowledge that comes from experiencing something first hand. My favourite post of the year was in this theme, and ended with the line, “I might have lost my blissful ignorance, but I have not lost my bliss.” Transformation from Trauma lays out how loss and infertility has changed me, made me more aware of my frailty, but also more confident in my strength. Like many of my posts, it was inspired by another blogger. Thanks for the inspiration, Jess!

I am constantly amazed and delighted to find so much wisdom in the comments of my posts - as I do every year. I am so lucky to have wise and compassionate readers, and I am so lucky that you are all still visiting, adding your perspectives, reminding me of the "BothAnd" (thanks, LLL!), putting alternatives.

Which once again brings me to the fact that the first week of January is blog delurking week. Yes, I know I’m late. But do leave a quick hello in the comments (I’m fine with anonymous comments if you’re shy) or send a quick email to me at nokiddinginnz at gmail dot com. I'd love to know who else is reading here.

And whether you comment or not, whether you’re a long time reader or have just stumbled across me for the first time, I wish you all a safe and happy 2024!

Note: This is an annual nod to Mel, who used to run the Crème de la Crème, where we would list our favourite post of the year. It always provided inspiring reading. So even though it doesn’t happen officially now, I hope that you too will list your favourite posts from your own blogs, on your blogs, for us to enjoy again (or for the first time).