By now, you know the STORY of the Mother Letter Project. See the FAQs for more information.
Every Friday, we would like to post a guest’s Mother Thoughts. Today’s guest is Janna from Rainbow Dull. There isn’t a writer more honest than Janna, and there isn’t one better at sighting glimmers of hope.
Send an email to motherletter@gmail.com if you’re interested in posting your own Mother Thoughts, whether or not you’re a mother.
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There’s a character from The X-men, known simply as “Beast.” His real name is Hank McCoy, and he was a public high school teacher before his beastly form took over and he had to take up residence at the Institute – a private school for teenage mutants. My son Sam has several episodes from the cartoon version of this comic on DVD. (Yes, you can blame my husband for turning him into a comic book nerd at such a tender age). One of the episodes tells how Hank was permanently transformed into Beast. When he was just a teenager, he discovered his mutant power – a beastlike person with incredible, hulk-like strength and power would emerge whenever Hank found himself in a tense or frustrating situation. When Hank’s rage subsided, he would resume his normal body.
These outbursts of course troubled Hank, so he learned to control them by reciting Shakespeare. When Hank grew up and became a science teacher, he developed a serum to take which eliminated the outbursts altogether. Several years later, Hank develops immunity to the serum and is out of practice meditating on poetry. In the climactic scene Professor X and some other X-men are trying to bring Hank back after the beast has taken over. One of them quotes a passage from Hamlet as the rest tell him, “This isn’t you. You’re stronger than the beast. You have to take control.” Ultimately he comes to his senses, but his physical body is irreversibly transformed into the Beast.
Why did I choose to share this story on a blog about mothering? Because I am a mother who struggles with beastly rage, and I sometimes find myself in dire need of an intervention, just like the one in that final scene. “Rage?” you ask. “Janna, is it really that bad?” Well, yes that’s exactly what it is when I want my baby boy to sleep for more than 30 minutes because I’m exhausted from being up with him all night, and my oldest son brings home notes from his 3rd grade teacher that make me feel like I’m raising a delinquent, and the little, middle, girl child (which is incidentally who I was) is playing alone in the corner cutting up tiny pieces of paper – and oh yeah, it’s dinner time and I don’t have anything cooking. Yeah, those days it’s definitely rage. That is until I let the volcano burst. Then it’s lots of tears and remorse.
That’s when I have to go look in the mirror and tell myself, these are only feelings. This is not the real you. You love your kids. You don’t really want to trade lives with the blonde in the jaguar who sped past you in the parking lot. You’re just really tired. Tomorrow will be a better day … I promise.
And it usually is, especially when I reach out to other mothers in my life who say even more things I need to hear. I do wish there was a serum I could drink to make this beast go away forever. My husband thinks that writing is my cure, and most of the time, I agree with him. But it’s hard to make writing a priority in the days of small children, dirty dishes and unfolded laundry. So, like Hank, I’ve had to learn other practices to keep the beast at bay. Sadly, I do not know any Shakespearean passages by heart. My meditations are not nearly as sophisticated, but I intentionally try to fill my life with beauty. Taking the time to read a good book, or listen to my favorite music goes a long way on a rough day. And soaking in the sun on a good day is like conditioning for a marathon. I’m not sure where the finish line is in this Motherhood race, but I hope when I cross it, my transformation will be more than physical.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Thanks, Janna, for your honest reflection. I appreciate the insight you shared–”these are just feelings….this is not the real you”. When I fail in how I respond to my kids (in anger, impatience, frustration, etc), I tend to dwell on the failure and let it ruin much more than the moment in which I slipped. It encouraged me to read that I’m not alone in my struggle, but also to think about how I can move forward, beyond the mistakes I make.
Always ask those munchkins for forgiveness. We are all just human beings. They WILL rise up and call you blessed, Janna, because you are being real. I’m so pleased you are writing. These blogs are such an amazing tool for those of you who are so gifted with the written word.