What is so wrong with gender in a baby? January 8, 2009

I’ve read articles in the type of parenting magazine I favor that ask the question, “Why do people always want to know if the baby is a boy or a girl?” They wonder what difference it makes. And go on to say that from the moment the person gets their answer, it changes how they interact with the baby.

But so what? Does that have to be a bad thing?

Sure, girls and boys are different. And some of that is nature, some nurture, dependent upon the culture.

But does it have to be so terrible to think of our boys one way and our girls another?

I have my third male cat. I always think of my male cats as somewhere between baby and boyfriend. Sometimes it’s all about the cuddling and other times a good smooch is called for.  So does it really make any difference that the cat is male?  I feel more flat towards my girl cats. It’s probably all in my head. There is probably no difference. But so what? I have loved these three mini-boyfriend/babies and will likely continue my love affairs with male cats for the rest of my life.

I also love that my girls are, well, girlie. Did I make them that way? Who knows. I grew up in a house with no mom after I was 6. And she was never girlie in the first place. Yet I have always been distinctly girlie. My younger girl has a lot of qualities typically consider masculine. And yet she will not wear pants nor shorts. No way. She just came that way. And she is actually shaping up to be quite girlie. Just because. So what’s so wrong with getting her a super pretty dress?

Actually, my girls are just people. I know my older daughter is highly sensitive, like me, and both my non-HS husband and I have always been much gentler with her. It doesn’t take much for her to get the message. My little one sometimes needs a bit more to even get her attention. If she were a boy, people would assume the different treatment was based on that, but really, it’s just based upon her personality and what seems to work.

What a Shame that We Damage our HSPs so much July 17, 2008

I learned, albeit indirectly, about being an HSP from my mom. My first daughter was about three years old and life with her had turned completely unbearable. She’d always overwhelmed me, but I’d been able to do exhausting tricks to keep her happy for a few years. By shortly after her third birthday, life was deplorable. She was, in a nutshell, insane, and my husband and I were living on the edge.

Before that, my little extrovert and I had enjoyed a full social calendar, which served the dual purposes of keeping us both sane and the house pretty clean since it was never occupied. Seemingly out of the blue, she began to refuse clothing. She had always had typical HSC issues such as tags bothering her, but this was crazy, not only because we live in a culture where nude children are not welcomed, but also because it was the middle of a frigid winter. I was going rapidly insane, being held prisoner in my own home. Some days, I would dig deep for reserves of patience and sweet talk her into a few articles of clothing, only to find that after an hour of this, she was naked again and I was still a prisoner. Pre-paid classes were missed, adding to my frustration and resentment. She’d always adored going to classes so I’d signed her up for quite a few. On more than one occasion, I had to take her to the car naked in a blanket simply to get a necessary errand done. My husband witnessed this every weekend but during the week, he could not seem to grasp why I could not manage to get a check deposited or some groceries bought.

On weekends, I would go to every bookstore and library I could find and dig through all the parenting books, trying to find something that resonated. It was during one of these outings that my mother handed me “The Highly Sensitive Child” by Elaine Aron. It was spot on!

Reading this book was very painful because it brought up unresolved issues from my childhood. I went ahead and bought adult book, but seeing as I was in a full-blown parenting crisis, I did not have time to get too deeply into my own baggage. When I first started reading, I was a total sponge, trying to figure out who around me was and wasn’t HS. I was so excited about my discovery, I told a friend about the book and deeply offended her. It was crazy. She thought I was insulting her and attempting to publicly humiliate her. Nothing could have been farther from the truth but she got very hostile and treated me like a stalker so I had to give up trying to explain that being HS wasn’t a bad thing and knowledge was power.

The same is true for my mother. My mother, all her siblings, and their mother too are all HS. But they grew up in a time where this was like saying you had a deformity. Perhaps that is still the case. None of them will admit they are sensitive and when they take the test, sometimes they manage to twist the numbers and get a low score. No matter; they are all off the charts. They all require handling with kid gloves and get into nasty spats with each other (and sometimes with me) that take sometimes months to heal.

How ironic that my mom could find this perfect book to help me understand my HSC daughter, but she simply cannot allow herself to believe that she might be HSP too, and further, that it might be a gift.

Why oh Why are Some Women Such Bitches?

The title about says it all. Some women, by no means all, but some, can be so horribly toxic. The problem is that most women, but again, not all, will follow along with that and not speak up. That leaves a few standing alone. That’s where I am now. Too exhausted to even try.

Me, I’m Highly Sensitive. So I choose not to go along with Mean Girls crap. I am not saying I never did. As someone who grew up ostracized (as most Highly Sensitive Children do), I was constantly the victim of Mean Girls and bullies. So when an opportunity presented itself to be on the other side of that equation, it was compelling. But afterward, it feels so awful and sickening. I just couldn’t live with myself if I continued to behave in that fashion.

That is the piece I don’t get. I would bet that most people have been on the receiving end at some point. Well, girls, especially as we can so deftly slice with our words. So knowing how it feels to go through, how can women continue to disect each other?

I’d always thought this was something that stopped at adulthood. But it’s not so! I am seasoned at being an adult now and this shit has never stopped. One of the reasons becoming a stay at home mom was so painful for me is that I was thrust into a strange and evil world of women. So few are comfortable in their skins; most are doing the cagey dance.

I have recently realized, finally, how I play into this. I am different around men; more confident and self-assured. I don’t come away drained. So, it must follow that I am being generally false around women. That must be where the bitches realize my vulnerability and sink their teeth into my weakness.

I guess this means that I have to pretend they are men. Or children. Or something. I’m not sure, really. I’ll be meditating on this and looking for insight.

It’s time May 15, 2008

It is time to start sharing my raw truths with the world. I don’t take things lightly. It is not my nature. I am a Highly Sensitive Person and take time to reflect upon things. I have gradually, quietly, become quite radical over my lifetime, and expect to become more-so as time allows. Some of my interests are

• natural birth and all the empowerment that goes with it
• unschooling
• spending time in nature
• Highly Sensitive People and Highly Sensitive Children
• unplugging from the grid to some degree but not to the point of obsessiveness
• connecting deeply with people
• improving life on a local level through small, simple acts
• simplifying
• helping future generations get more in touch with the best parts of being human
• natural parenting
• organic food
• raw veganism
• intentional living
• reevaluating health care
• politics
• jealousy, vanity, friendships, trust, self-confidence

Perhaps I will get to write on all of these topics. That is the goal!