The S Word....

 I think the term "Self-Care" is getting a bad rap these days - even before the pandemic, there was an overuse of the term as a silver bullet to counteract the manic pace of modern life. Don't get me wrong, self-care is SUPER important, but as awareness rises, I do feel that the term is starting to get sour the longer we are exposed to it. I also think there is often a misconception about what self-care actually means. 

According to the World Health Organisation (2013) Self-Care is defined as "the ability of individuals, families and communities to promote health, prevent disease, and maintain health and to cope with illness and disability with or without the support of a health-care provider." (WHO, 2013). 

Notice there is not ONE mention of bubble baths, meditation, essential oils etc LOL Sorry, that's my cynicism coming through - I digress! 

There is a quote often ascribed to Brienna West that says: 

Now don't get me wrong, if you're into bubble baths and chocolate cake go for it - I'm a bit partial to a bubble bath and I use them regularly to relax! But I feel like there is something far more fundamental about self-care than just surface stuff. 

So here's my take: I feel like self-care is ANY act that consciously and purposefully seeks to meet your own needs, regardless of societal expectations or external pressures. Sometimes self-care looks like taking your meds. Sometimes self-care is going to a doctor's appointment, getting your teeth cleaned, or going to the chiropractor. 

For example, yesterday I went to therapy, and then I went to see my mortgage broker (financial self care counts too!). I had a rostered day off, and so I had scheduled these appointments so that I didn't have to stress about getting back to work and could just focus on the stuff I needed to get done. None of that was fun, it was pretty boring actually but self-care is about doing the stuff that looks after you and your world, and sometimes it's boring! Having done it though, I came home, had a nap and then took a bath :) 

People roll their eyes when you mention the term self-care, but I see it more as essential maintenance, and whatever I have to do to maintain some degree of resilience and continue to function counts. I don't know about you, but when I'm burning out that's the stuff that gets tossed first - and that's a warning sign for me! It's the kind of thing that's always tacked onto the end of training packages - don't forget your self care blah blah blah. But for me self-care is every single day - it's not an event or something to tick off your list, it's a daily exercising of my right to be ok and to do what I need to do to be ok. 

So today, to be ok, I'm going to take lots of screen breaks, go out into my garden, pick some tomatos and pull some weeds, get some sun and drink some water. I'm going to take things one step at a time and exercise my mindfulness. I hope you do what you need to do today to be ok as well, whatever that happens to be, and I hope you feel good about it! 

Le Chatelier sur la Vie

 I was never much good at any of the sciences - I found in middle high and senior high school that biology was the easiest to take a stab at, and since I had to take one of the sciences in order to get my OP score I enrolled in that. I sat up the back of class and generally fooled around, I reckon between me and my group of friends we took MAYBE half a dozen pages of notes between us for the whole year, yet every single one of us passed. I think I got a B, maybe a B+ which for an unscientific mind like myself is testament to the power of an educated guess and a rudimentary understanding of the derivatives of scientific terms. 

Chemistry was perhaps my least favourite of the sciences - we had to try them all in grade 8 and 9, I presume in order to make our choice from Year 10 onwards. While doing experiments is fun, ours rarely ever actually worked and our longsuffering chemistry teacher (who was also our maths teacher) was a young, vulnerable man who while meaning well couldn't spell to save himself and NEVER had a demonstration actually do what it was supposed to do. Needless to say we were called upon to use our imaginations A LOT. One of the few things I remember from this very brief encounter with chemistry is something called "Le Chatelier's Principle" - I quote from the Libretexts Chemistry Website which states, "Le Chatelier's principle states that if a dynamic equilibrium is disturbed by changing the conditions, the position of equilibrium shifts to counter the change to reestablish an equilibrium" (chem.libretexts.org, 2020). Basically this is a fancy way of saying that if something is at rest and it gets disturbed, that something will inevitably move towards rebalancing that equilibrium. We, like the natural world, seek and often crave equilibrium. We've all experienced what I like to call a 'shift in the force' - events in our lives that fundamentally shift what we see as our balance in life. How we react to that shift is always in service of either releasing the discomfort of the change or in service of finding balance again. 

I believe that there are times in life when the universe itself rushes into the gaps in our lives. I spent all of my 20's and a third of my 30's feeling only what was missing in my world - keenly aware of all of the gaps and deficits. Every relationship I didn't have haunted me, including the dysfunctional and sometimes toxic relationship I had with myself. I've spent a long time thinking about what I DONT have and scrambling to regain some equilibrium. As I have moved closer to being my true authentic self, I feel like others have stepped in to fill the gaps. Mothers, Fathers, Brothers, Sisters, Aunts and Uncles who have taken it upon themselves to pick up the reins and to move me forward. Last night I turned 40 years old, and a lot of those people (not all, but a lot of them) gathered all together in one room to once again fill gaps in my world. Watching the different spheres of my world collide was perhaps the most precious gift I could have received - my husband chatting with work colleagues, my father in law regaling my sister with stories (whether she wanted them or not!), my mother in law being tickled pink at one of my Tamworth colleagues referring to her as "Ma" - These collisions sparkled like fireworks around me, brighter than the sun and I couldn't help but marvel at the new equilibrium I had discovered. 

One of the most quoted passages in the New Testament belongs to the Gospel of Matthew, commonly referred to as The Beatitudes (The supreme blessings) - Matthew 5:1-12 "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you". 

While most interpret these words as referring to blessings bestowed on people in the after life, last night gave me pause to wonder whether that is always the case. I'm not saying I possess any of those qualities listed above - far far from it - and yet there I was surrounded with nothing but love. And if that isn't a glimpse of heaven on earth, I don't know what is! 

Six Years Later

 It was six years ago exactly. The hospital emergency department was humming with nurses bustling to and fro among patients, harsh UV lights and the smell of disinfectant. My face, calm in appearance masked a heart beating a million miles a minute as I and my husband kept reassuring ourselves and each other that everything would be fine, and that we would be seen soon. I was given a bed to lay down on, and in our little curtained cubicle we waited. Eventually a doctor came, stethoscope hung around her neck and told us that we could go home but instructed us to return the following morning for an ultrasound. She assured us it was merely routine, nothing to worry about, and she was sure everything was fine. We grasped on to that lifeline with both hands and believed her. Dutifully we did as we were told the following morning and at the ultrasound our world came crumbling down around us. 

If this sounds a little bit like the opening minutes of the pixar movie "Up" there's a reason for that - you might as well give my husband the moniker of Carl and I the name Ellie, because their story is our own. Six years ago today we found out that we were losing our little miracle and by the end of that week our peanut was gone, torn from my body in a birthing suite 8 months too soon. That same year I crumbled, and by the middle of 2017 I was off work on stress leave and barely functioning. As I sit here writing this the pain has dulled but has not left me - physical pain passes but in my soul there remains the grief that to this day still tears me apart. We have come a long way in six years. We had continued our fertility journey a little further before the full reality was conveyed to us: that having a child was not for us as written in our DNA. Shockingly I didn't turn my anger on God, or on myself. I saw it as a message that I had genuinely been asking for years: "God, please, if we are meant to have children please tell us. If we are not meant to have children, please please just tell us so that we know". I had prayed to God over and over to just give us an answer, and when I found out about my pesky chromosomes I felt somehow blessed that He had written the answer so clearly in my DNA that none could dispute it. For a myriad of reasons, we decided that our waiting and wishing had come to an end, and so that chapter of our lives closed 3 years after we lost our precious little one for good. 

It's now the beginning of 2023 - 3 years after we left that part of our lives behind, and six years since the miscarriage. There are days I am sincerely grateful to not have children as it affords us so much freedom and agency. I see parents down at the park when I'm walking my labra-daughter (and yes I do call her that!) and I think to myself "thank you God that I have the freedom to travel and enjoy my animals and to go about my life independently". There's other times when I watch the same parents down at the park and my heart aches. It's those times that I hold fur babies extra tightly, I laugh at their antics a little louder, and I count my blessings for they are many. I honestly don't think I would be able to live the way that I do if I had children. I can work and play with spontaneity and with whimsical abandon and I don't have to worry about babysitters or childcare or school holidays or basically anything. And when the pain hits me, when I think about my legacy dying with me, I take a moment to hold that hurt in my heart and remember that this is the life that God gave me - He directs my steps and He is good. I'm really proud of how far we've come, but I swear I will never forget that baby that never was. The crossroad has long since been past, but on days like this I take a moment and look behind me, and I hold on to the promise that one day, somehow, it will all make sense. And then, like now, I will shut the computer, wipe away my tears, stand up and move on to the next task, the next step, the next moment. 

Life may have been denied to my child, but I won't let it pass me by through grieving what was lost. Moments of pain come and go, but I hold on to the hope that somehow, some way, despite not having anyone to hand our memory to, that my life will somehow mean something and leave something when I am gone. 

The Annual Identity Crisis

Whether you are a Christian or not, you know the story - a couple travel to Bethlehem to respond to a government census, only to find there's nowhere to stay except a grubby stable. While there, Mary gives birth to a bouncing baby boy, and they name him Jesus. In response to this birth several extraordordinary things occur, including singing angels, shepherds, three travellers and a very scary dream that causes the family to flee. The explanation for all of this is nothing short of the eternal salvation of the human race and the restoration of man to God and God to man. 

Every year, Christmas poses to us a question of identity. How can an omnipotent creator who set the stars in place, who pulls the tides in and who keeps the entire universe spinning step down from his throne, be born in a dirty stable amongst the most humble of animals, all of the sake of our souls? Many throughout history have questioned whether He was God at all, whether He was a great prophet, and how someone can identify as fully God and fully man. It's one of the great mysteries of the Christian faith, one that theologians throughout the centuries have grappled with and as the Christmas season comes to a close, humanity tends to turn away from the baby swaddled amongst the straw and look inward, embroiled in our own crisis of identity. 

New Years comes with it the burden of possibility and a billion questions: how do we change things, do we NEED to change things, what do we want and is it different from what we have? New Years Resolutions have rightfully been imbued with a very bad reputation of late: they don't work, they cause anxiety and broken promises that are detrimental to the psyche. When you fail to meet the promises you make to yourself, you break your own trust and that causes an erosion of confidence. Before you know it, you are making false promises to yourself left and right suffering all of the dissonance in your spirit that comes with duality: you know you WANT to fulfil the things you say but instead you do the opposite. It's part of the human condition, the bible speaks of it in Romans 7:15-20 (NIV) "For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me."

Not that any of that lets us off the hook: we are always responsible for our own actions and choices. But it should be acknowledged that we as frail humans tend to fall short and as such New Years Resolutions can be dangerous. I for one like the idea of adopting a sense of identity rather than making resolutions - painting a picture of who and what I want to be over the next 12 months. Instead of setting down goals such as "lose weight, exercise more, drink more water, eat better etc etc" I instead think about what my identity is right now and where I want it to be at the end of 2023. 

The funny thing is, identity shifts and changes, and we must let it. To doggedly refuse to do so represents stagnancy. When I was in my early 20's I watched a movie called "There's Something About Mary" (I KNOW you must have seen it - a comedy classic!). Anyways, there's a scene right at the beginning of the movie where the titular character Mary goes about her day, unaware that she's being stalked by a private detective. She leaves her house early, goes down to the wharf and casually throws an apple to some guy she sees every morning. I can see the scene right now in my mind, so vivid is the picture to me. She's young, vibrant, thin and smiling. She has a bounce in her step, and the breeze softly brushes her hair about as she bounds down the street. She is a PICTURE of health and vitality and youth. THAT was the image I held in my head for the longest time as the ultimate identity for me - the emblazoned representation of who I wanted to be. 

Over the years, that image has slowly morphed with my own real life. My step doesn't have QUITE as much bounce, and I don't need to tell you that I'm no where NEAR that skinny LOL I laugh now at my latching on to that scene as the epitome of all that is good and of all I wanted to be in life, because it's a movie and real life never works out like that. There are however elements of that image that are replicated in my choices now. I take my dog for a walk along the same route, and often we meet the same people with friendly greetings and sometimes a chat. I live a life that's cheerful and joyous, if not a little naïve at times and I try always to see the best in people. I try to be generous, never withholding if I can be of assistance to someone else and I have a thriving community of people around me that I see on the regular. I even have a place to go where my coffee order is rarely required, where I know people's names and they know mine, and where I always have a table no matter how busy. It's that kind of sense of community that I saw in that movie scene and I have somehow stumbled upon that same sense of community in my real life, albeit not as picture perfect as in the movies. 

So, as 2022 draws to a close, I look once again to my sense of identity and ask the same question I ask every year - who am I, who do I want to be, and what changes do I need to make to get there? I thought I had the answers to those questions, but even over the last two weeks my responses have changed. I have made the decision to revel in the life I have right now rather than always striving for major change, so I see the next 12 months as a year of consolidation and contentment - a time to enjoy what I have and to embed in my life activities that bring me joy and happiness. I have no doubt that over the next year I will be challenged many many times to examine and re-examine this overarching goal, but I feel that in my 40th year of life I have a better sense of what I want, and by painful experience what I don't want. I've also decided that my word for 2023 will be "Joy" - finding joy in the every day experiences I have and seeking contentment in my daily routine. Of course, learning and growth don't stop, and I have no doubt that I will continue to morph over the next 12 months into a fuller version of myself like I have done every year for the last decade - but I won't be looking for external validation or input much anymore and I will instead be looking for ways to be a little more sustainable, and a little more content. 

So what's your identity look like? Are you who you want to be? What kind of things do you want to define your character over the next 12 months? These are questions worth asking not just today, but any time throughout the year that we want to fine tune our direction in life. 

I wish anyone reading this post a very happy New Year's - may 2023 bring you all of the peace and joy and contentment your heart desires, and may you reach the end of the next 12 months feeling a little bit more 'yourself' as I have done this year :) 

Yuletide Musings

 Well, it's that time of the year - sleigh bells ring, the temperature in Australia rises, grocery store carparks become warzones and seafood delis are overwhelmed! Christmas is such a mixture of extremes: joy, laughter, togetherness smashed together with overwhelming grief, pain, expectations and credit card debt. I've been thinking a lot lately about why we do this to ourselves - why we go through all of the ups and downs of this season and why there is SO much emphasis on Christmas and so little on Easter given they're both associated with Christian faith (I'll get more into that in a minute) and given that they're both so heavily commercialised. Along with 'hallmark' holidays such as valentine's day, Christmas is by far the biggest event of the year for most families whether you are a Christian or not. Of course, that's not to say there isn't other traditions who share the same time off - Quanza, Hannuka, Diwali, all occur around the same time, and all have different rituals and meanings. But by and large, Christmas has been adopted almost universally, along with all of the accoutrements including the big fat man in the red suit, the reindeer, an overall "snow" covered aesthetic (whether you're in winter or not!) and the good old Christmas Tree. So, why do we do it? 

I've heard many different conclusions to this question over the years, with some citing pagan traditions of summer solstice as an explanation for some of the things we do at Christmas. Others are more cynical, citing capitalistic ambition and greed as contributing factors. I watched a video essay last night examining the messaging of "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas", a Dr Seuss story adapted into a Jim Carrey movie that had the Grinch speaking out against the focus on presents and possessions and greed. Despite collective moaning and groaning about the expense and the debt we continue to go through all of the routines, feeling the pressure of keeping up appearances, and this year (as it does most years) it feels more prevalent than ever. So, I still find myself asking - why do we do it? 

I would argue that along with all of the sociological aspects of Christmas that have grown and morphed (as cultural traditions often do) over the years, and despite the influence of capitalism and greed particularly in western society, there are other reasons. Putting into context the last couple of years I wonder whether we treat Christmas a little like societies of old treated the institution of 'harvest festivals'. 

Barrow (2013) says that the tradition of a Harvest Festival as we know it began in 1843 and was closely linked to local churches in Cornwall. Barrow goes on to explain, "at the start of the harvest, communities would appoint a strong and respected man of the village as their 'Lord of the Harvest'. He would be responsible for negotiating the harvest wages and organising the fieldworkers." Along with this function, the festival also had a spiritual aspect, with items being made out of corn fibre in an effort to placate the 'corn spirit' and elicit a good harvest. The last cart load of harvest would be decorated with flowers and colourful ribbons, and everyone would celebrate and play games to mark the end of the harvest season. A lot of the importance of the harvest festival has also been translated into other holidays, with one of the most notable being Thanksgiving in the United States. 

As humankind has evolved, our separation from the practical application of labour to grow food has expanded exponentially. Increasingly we no longer can hold in our hands the direct result of our labours (with of course the exceptions of industries such as Agriculture or mining perhaps) but even then, the end product remains out of the original growers' hands. The industrial revolution with all its benefits has robbed us largely of the direct ownership of the end product. And if you're someone like me who works in human services, our results are even LESS tangible - how do you hold participant outcomes in your hands when you work in counselling, or welfare, or disabilities? On the odd occasion you might get some positive feedback (and I make a point of printing that stuff out to keep as a way of commemorating my good work) but more often than not the participant moves on and we don't ever get any kind of resolution for our work. 

I would argue that Christmas is our way of looking back over the year and saying, "see! I did that!" by substituting the 'harvest' with the commercial trappings that go along with the yuletide season. It's a way for us to provide for those that we love trinkets and trappings and things that let them know we care, and in donning our house with lights or spending FAR too much money on food we are nurturing their souls along with our own. We overextend because this is the one time of the year that collectively as a planet we pause and celebrate the year that has been, whatever that year has looked like. The pressure to be jolly and happy and cheerful is most certainly a burdensome one, especially if your year hasn't been terrific, and in those instances, I think a little insular self-care is warranted - but where possible, we are encouraged to give especially to those less fortunate, and I think this is a way of having something tangible we can say we've achieved. 

Of course, I could be wrong, but the idea of producing something tangible as a representation of our labours is something that has been on my mind lately, and I do think there is an element of trying to reclaim a connection to our work in the excesses of the Christmas season each year. Along with that of course is the renewed importance of being together and enjoying each other's company after the separation of the last few years, and I can see the seeds being planted of a resurgence of hand made gifts being more popular than store bought (as a crafter myself I look forward to the growth of these seeds with great enthusiasm!).

Wherever you are, and whatever your thoughts on this time of year, I wish you every joy and happiness. May you take time to hold in your hands some kind of representation of the year that has been and take time to marvel at how far you have come. May you rest, and refresh, and reflect upon the good AND the bad that has occurred, knowing with certainty that as the New Year approaches so too do new opportunities for self-discovery. 

Merry Christmas! 

References

History of Harvest Festival (projectbritain.com)

The View from One Step Behind

I often wonder whether there will ever come a time that I feel like I've caught up to the wisdom that seems to be automatically imparted to the rest of humanity. For as long as I can remember I've always felt like despite my most earnest efforts I arrive to every conclusion five minutes after everyone else. Every trend, every playground fad, every activity considered cool - I always arrived just a smidge too late and by the time I got there everyone else had moved on to something else as equally unattainable. And it wasn't for lack of trying either - there was nothing that I wanted more than to have a core group of friends I could count on. There's a reason my favourite books were the babysitters club and my favourite music came from 90s girl band "Girlfriend" - I was obsessed with having best friends. But try as I might my friendships did not stay stable like the movies or tv or books. 

As I got older I did everything I could to morph and change myself into whatever would please others. Pieces of myself were broken off me one by one, sometimes it was me doing the breaking in order to please my parents or my friends sometimes it was my parents breaking me into shards of sharp glass, each one painful to keep and painful to let go. By the time I was 20 there was very little of me left. I had been hollowed out, a shadow compared to the little girl who loved rainbows and flowers and angels and who was oblivious to all of the ways she wasn't acceptable. 

I have no doubt this happens to a lot of kids - my de-evolution is not unique by any stretch. It's taken the next 20 years of my life to grapple with all of the 100s of ways in which I shaved off pieces of myself, and really only in the last 5-10 years that I've started to search those sharp pieces out and start the painful process of soldering them back on. Self rediscovery sounds like fun, but the reality is far more uncomfortable. It takes a lot of painful realisations, a lot of self forgiveness, and a huge gut full of grief. 

And after a further 20 years what have I learnt? 

Something that hundreds of well meaning people have told me countless 1000s of times over my lifetime this far: that the more I become myself, the more I re-assume my true identity with all of its cracks and scars, the more I am accepted by the people around me. 

Turns out I'm late to the party again. I didn't need to morph or change myself at all. I only needed to be unapologetically myself. 

Oh, No Baby!

 It's been a bit of a drought between drinks on this blog - my apologies! I've had a lot of ideas about blog posts but as fatigue sets in motivations wanes! The last couple of weeks have been pretty busy, lots of work to do and lots of preparation for Christmas by way of madly sewing and crafting the hours in between. 

I have been thinking a lot lately about the value of people - and I'm not talking about humanity as a whole but more about individual people. As a child, in my teens and early 20's I tended to think about people in terms of what THEY could do for ME. Birthdays were measured in terms of gifts, Christmas was measured in terms of presents under the tree, relationships were at times transactional. I was keenly aware of this in my 20's and vowed to change that mindset because I knew where it came from: it was taught to me by my father from the earliest of ages. My father only EVER saw relationships in terms of how they would benefit him, and as soon as that relationship didn't benefit him anymore the relationship was severed. It was the reason why we spent my entire childhood see sawing between being close with my grandparents and being estranged. It was also why at the age of 19 my father cut all ties with me - I wasn't useful anymore. I had asserted my independence and wanted to do my own thing. I wasn't under his control anymore, and so I was cut off. 

As I've gotten older, I've come to accept within myself that my value does not lie in what I DO for others, and the value of others is not what they do for me. My evaluation of others 100% was wrapped up in my evaluation of myself - if I couldn't benefit others, I was no good. I was only having a good day if people were happy with me. If people weren't happy with me, my world fell apart. It was a horrible way to live and it's one of the many reasons why I would NEVER go back to being 20 again unless I could take all of the growth I'd made in my 30's with me. If I could go back with what I know now, I'd do things very differently, starting with the way I treated and valued myself as a member of the human race. 

These thoughts got brought up again for me last week when I got called by an employment recruiter. I'd put in my resume for a Social Worker job with an NGO delivering therapy to young people and their families, and she was asking me questions about my history, my education, my life circumstances etc. And then the question came, "I know this is probably a personal question, and you don't have to answer, but do you have children?" It came before I could censor my response, or even really think about what to say so I blurted out "no, I don't". She then went on to say that she thought if I had children it would 'bolster' my application with the employer. 

It wasn't until after I got off the phone that I got angry. Not that it's the first time that the pro-natalist nature of our world has been brought home to me, but this really hit me in a new way. I've only just completed my masters in Social Work and I'd desperately love to work in children and family therapy. I'm not experienced in counselling but I have a LOT of education around it, and with a child protection background it's what I'm passionate about and it's what makes sense to me. The notion that I have to be a parent before I can deliver such services seems laughable to me, yet here it was in front of me  - do you have kids? 

I know I don't have to wax lyrical about why this theory about 'bolstering' my application is ridiculous - does an oncologist have to have had cancer to be a good oncologist? Does a Child Protection caseworker have to have had their children removed (or have been removed as a child) to do their job? I would argue the opposite - not having had personal experience in some fields actually affords a layer of objectivity that is very much required, and in human services any lived experience can be a double edged sword, requiring close and constant oversight and management. I've had caseworker colleagues who have given the game away after having children specifically because every time they had to intervene for a child at risk they would see their own child and that level of recognition became too much. 

Then there's all of the other considerations: maternity leave, child care commitments, schooling commitments, school holiday leave, etc etc - people who don't have children have many advantages to offer most workplaces. Mothers have long argued that they have been discriminated against FOR having children, but there's very little thought given to what those WITHOUT children contribute. We pick up the slack when parents have child care responsibilities. We are at work during school holidays, while parents take their children off on adventures. I purposefully DON'T take my holidays during school holidays, partially for my own convenience but also to allow my colleagues that time and opportunity to make memories with their kids. But that doesn't mean that our time is less valuable, despite the fact that it is often seen that way. I've had to argue that on many a Friday afternoon when the proposed 'working back late' shift was tossed in my direction because I don't have children - and I've batted it back every time, arguing that my free time is just as valuable as anyone else's and if that's the reason you wanna shove work on me then you can forget it. 

But this idea that my experiences are somehow less than because I don't have kids - well there's not much I can do about that is there? My chromosomes are what they are. I'm powerless to argue that point any more than someone without cancer can argue the point that they should be an oncologist anyway. 

It also flies in the face of the idea that people are valuable because they just ARE. And I know that I am. I have plenty to offer, just as much because I don't have kids as I would if I did. One doesn't equate the other. There are no conditions upon my value, or anyone else's for that matter. The people I choose to spend my time with are valuable because they just ARE. I love who they are as people, I love to spend time stepping into their world, hearing their perspectives. They contribute simply by being, and so do I. 

I haven't heard a word from that recruiter since, and I'm glad. I don't know whether the employer themselves would see me as less valuable for not having squeezed another human being out of my vagina, but if they did then that's not a workplace I'd want to be a part of anyways. I am only just starting to truly appreciate my worth, and ironically it's only been in considering my own intrinsic worth that I have come appreciate the worth of those around me. This $10 note may be crumpled, but my value remains intact!