How Can Anything Be Your Everything?
I see this thing happening. Even though we’re all aware and bold, we keep making these declarations about ourselves. When I see this on social media, hear this when I’m talking with my sister-friends, or read this in magazines, I wonder how we’re still thinking this way.
My mister’s not my whole world. He’s my love, my soul mate. He goes above and beyond. Hell, the guy should be nominated for sainthood. How do I nominate him for that? Do I contact the Pope directly for that shit? But listen. Saint or no, he’s not my whole world. When other women say that about their husbands, I wonder what the hell kinda romance novel marriage they have. I wonder if the sex they’re having is pushing their marriage into some kind of cosmic realm of delight and donuts.
Here’s the kicker. My kids aren’t my whole world either. I love my kids more than any other human beings on the planet. If I make my kids my whole world, I think maybe I live vicariously through them. Where’s my world in that scenario? How can anyone, even my precious babies, be my everything? Do my kids come first? Well, hell yeah, they do. Most of the time. Like 95% of the time. I dunno. That percentage may change from day to day. I’m not being a whole person if someone else means everything to me. Honestly, I don’t want anyone to be my whole world. That’s weird to me.
Is this selfish? I don’t feel selfish when I make my family a part of my world, a huge, lovely, important part of it. I made a commitment to them for life. I can’t imagine making anything my everything. I have to have room for my other loves and for myself as well. I have to have room for what all else is important to me. Making my family my everything opens the door for resentment, places them on a ridiculous pedestal, and sets us all up for a mind blowing, soul crushing fall.
Do women do this out of fear? Do we fear losing our families? I know the very thought makes me crazy, gets me all sick, and freaked out. That’s a natural response though, isn’t it? The thought of losing our loved ones? Do we do it out of fear of truly living our own lives? My husband is my whole world. My kids are my whole world. Those statements are often followed up with how we simply don’t have the time for anything else. Of course, we don’t. How can we? We can’t make room for anything else when we’re mommy martyr material. Such a safe struggle.
When women make this overwhelming declaration about their families, we’re selling ourselves short. How can we fit anything else into our worlds if we make our families our everything? No wonder we’re angry, crazy, frantic, manic mamas. No wonder we feel guilty. No wonder we need margaritas and prescriptions for our meltdowns. We’ve lost ourselves. We’ve given ourselves up like sacrificial lambs.
My husband isn’t my whole world. My kids aren’t either. I refuse to hem haw around, living like an afterthought. The perfect wife and mother being someone who gives herself completely over to her family is a fallacy. My family’s not my everything. My world is mine.