Staring at the sun

Have you ever had an epiphany? Realized something profound, something earth shattering, something that rocked you to your core??.. And then you realize that you have had that same realization before…

I have done that a few times. I don’t know what happens in that black box between the two aha-moments; perhaps it is like staring at the sun – it is impossible to look directly at it, at least without shades. So perhaps I protect myself and simply forget that I know this until the next time it hits me..??..

One of my reoccurring epiphanies is simply this:

There is a million ways one can live one’s life.

I live in a very homogenous culture; we all more or less look the same, speak the same language, have the same beliefs, etc, etc. Even in my little life, everything is more or less the same; my friends are all in the same segment as I am. And while it is very easy to function in a society where you know all the rules by heart, it is also very limiting. It takes sooo little so be round in a world of squares. And I feel that sorely these year, where I am trying my damnedest to balance life with two small children and a career.

Something has got to give, and it is always, always, always “me-time”. Just sitting around with a book. Having lunch with a girlfriend. Don’t even think to suggest going out and having drinks or whatnot, because I am simply too tired. All the time. Paper beats rock, rock beats scissors, and sleep beats drinks with the girls. And all my girlfriends are in the same situation, so I hear no complaints from them on the topic. Only that they miss me. And themselves. And the way things used to be. “What the hell did we do with all our time before we had kids?” we ask each other. The answer would be: Sleep. Go out. Read. Nothing. “Doing nothing” – how I miss that. Then we lived. Now we survive. And the straw that breaks the camels back and be summed up in one little seed: Spelt!

Spelt! It is a grain, supposedly ancient and healthier than wheat. Where I live, spelt has had a revival that ought to have Jesus’ people call spelt’s people to do lunch. And pick up pointers on second comings.

To me, spelt is synonymous with the “Spelt-Mommies”. The demands on the Spelt-Mommies are horrendous. She has to be sexy, keep her career on track, network, keep the house immaculate, the babe stimulated and breastfeed for AT LEAST 10 months before occasionally switching over to the organic brand formular served in a GLASS bottle (without Phthalats!!) and bake (don’t forget the spelt!) and research the best schools and so on and so on. (The TV show Mad Men set in NY in the 1950’s is hugely popular here. Perhaps because it is liberating to see what a bad mommy the otherwise perfect trophy-wife Betty Draper is – smoking (!) & drinking (!!) while pregnant, no seat belts (!!!!), littering (!!!) and solving every conflict by telling the kids to “Go watch TV”!!!!!!!!!!!)

On top of aaaaaall this, the Spelt-Mommy has to KNOW, that life is short and you only live once and it is your own responsibility to outlive your potential!

And the worst, absolute worst thing about Spelt-Mommy’s situation is… That she does most of this to herself. Women of my generation have simply NEVER been taught the phrase: “You are good enough as you are”. And consequently, they never are.

Which brings us back to the epiphany. There is a million ways you can live your life. You can choose. You can swim against the current.

So this is me saluting those brave women that endure the judgement of the Spelt-Mommies; the ones that choose NOT have children (oh horror!), the ones that serve frozen pizza for her guests, has a messy house and doesn’t give a rats ass, and the lucky one that actually – in her bones- thinks that she is ok. As she is.

There is simply too much spelt in my own diet for me to be there yet but I’m trying. And I forgive myself when I fail. And I am really, really working on the judgement-thing.