One of the things I love about my current therapist is that she assigns me homework each week.

Not like worksheets out of a workbook. But like small action items that I can apply to my day-to-day. I laugh at the end of each session because most of the homework assignments start out with, “Well, first, pause…and then…”

Pausing is something I have a hard time doing. Being still and turning inward is something I have a hard time doing.

Which is why I get assigned it – or some version of it – so frequently.

Anyway, I got pretty emotional during our session yesterday. Any time Ishu is awake or around me during a session, I’m always over-apologetic about having to stop our conversation to pull out a toy for him or to respond to him.

She pushed back a little. Encouraged me to stop apologizing to other people and allow myself to give him my full attention. Put the mom hat on when I need to and stop worrying about everything else.

At one point during a session where Ishu was in the room with me, he walked behind my chair and stood at the stationary bike. I kind of did a half-swivel, so I could keep my eyes on him, but also not turn my back on her.

When I was finally able to pass Ishu off to Bella and close the door to carry on with our session, she debriefed that whole experience with me. She said, “When he was behind you, I was – internally – cheering you on, hoping that you’d turn around and do what you really wanted/needed to do in that moment. I could sense you didn’t want to be disrespectful to me. But I was hoping you’d forget about me and do what you needed to do for him.”

I do this. 

I don’t do what I want to or need to do for fear of rubbing someone the wrong way. Taking up space in this world is something that I have never learned to do. If anything, I’ve suppressed my needs/desires to appear flexible. To go-with-the-flow. To make it easier on others.

Anyway, all this to say that I got emotional yesterday. Recounting an event that happened at the park recently.

I had gone to the park with a friend and her two kids. They live in the same building as us. So when it started getting cold, we decided to pack up our kids and walk back together.

She strapped her 15-month old boy into their stroller while her 3-year old walked over to his bike, put on his helmet and threw one leg over the seat.

While trying to get onto his bike, he toppled over. He didn’t hurt himself too bad, but he did cry out. 

My friend calmly walked over to him to check on him and provide him support.

I was in no rush to be anywhere, so Ishu and I stood off to the side until he was OK to get up again. My friend focused her full attention on her little boy. She rubbed his knee and said, “Ouch, that must have hurt.”

She didn’t once look up at me or Ishaan. If I needed to go, I could have stepped in and said something. But I didn’t have anywhere to be. And I didn’t mind waiting.

In that brief moment, she gave her son her complete attention.

As I talked about this experience with my therapist yesterday, my eyes welled up with tears. Because I knew what would happen if the situation was reversed.

If Ishu was the one to fall off his bike and I had a friend waiting to walk home with me.

I’d walk over to Ishu. Bend down to hug him or pick him up. And then, I’d likely look up at my friend and say, “If you guys need to go, you can go!” 

I would cut short my interaction with Ishu. Interrupt a moment of co-regulation and support in order to minimize any disruption to other people.

I do this all. the. time.

I stop in the middle of sentences when I perceive that someone has lost interest in what I’m saying. Or I don’t voice my opinion. Or, worse, I accept some things that don’t feel very healthy for me emotionally just so I can keep the peace.

Some of it’s cultural. Some of it’s the bullshit gender stereotype agenda pushed on us since the minute we’re born.

But some of it is stuff I’ve learned to do because of constant repetition. Doing it over and over and over until I know no different.

Doing it over and over and over until I’ve lost my voice and my place in this world.

I didn’t like this when it was only me dealing with the ramifications of it.

But now that I’ve got a kid in the mix? A kid that will grow up and look at some of these behaviors and think, “Hm. I just got hurt, but my mom’s more concerned about the other people around her.”

UGH. I cry when I think about it.

So, yes, my homework assignment for the next two weeks until I see her again is “Take up space.”

Say the things I want to say. Do the things I want to do. Make space for myself. 

I want to do better.

He deserves better.

But I deserve better too.