The last year and a half has been one of the most difficult seasons in life I have ever had to navigate. We moved here only a few months after my dad died, and, still deep in my grief process I traded a network of family, friends and familiar places for a tiny rural town in a brand new country. Not only that, I did it in the middle of the Covid-19 pandemic. Border restrictions kept me from visiting my old network, and gathering restrictions here kept me from finding a new one. A medical system in disarray made getting necessary medical care almost impossible at times and left me uneasy. One of my kids had difficulties assimilating for several months into his new school, and I didn't know anyone in town to help me. Winter, which seems to last for eternity here, kept me inside for many months. The isolation I felt was overwhelming.
And yet, as I look back over the last eighteen months, I am amazed at how, even in this difficult season, I have grown. Grown in ways I don't think would have been possible had I not taken this adventure. What I didn't realize was, that although I was letting go of my network, I was also letting go of all the expectations and obligations and corners I had painted myself into in that former life. And in doing so, I've been able to rediscover who I really am, and who I want to become.
As long as I can remember, I've been worried about making other people happy. Somewhere along the way I internalized the belief that by making other people happy, I would, by extension, also be happy. Whether it was going to the college my dad wanted me to go to, or giving my kids second helpings before I'd had a chance to sit down to eat my first, or saying yes to a friend's invitation when I really didn't have time, or agreeing to move to Canada for my husband's career even though I could hardly get out of bed with grief, I became an expert at making other people happy. Over and over I would say "Yes. Whatever you want. I have no preference. You can decide." Because if they were happy, I was happy.
The problem was, I wasn't happy.
Everywhere I turned, there were expectations. Expectations from my husband on the role I play as a wife. Expectations from my kids on the role I should play in the home and family. Expectations from the church on what it means to be a believer, a female, a wife, a mother, everything.
And, most of all, expectations from myself to be perfect.
I'm not exactly sure how I ended up in this place. But I do know that the church played a big role. There are a lot of expectations that go along with the conservative, fundamentalist Christian church. Expectations on the way you dress, the movies you watch, the music you're allowed to like, the way your marriage operates.
There is also a huge arm of the church that is preoccupied with determining what it means to be a godly female. According to certain denominations of the church, women, as designed by God, are to fill the service, not the leadership positions in the church. Women cannot preach. Women cannot be pastors. Women cannot be elders. A godly woman submits to her husband. A woman's highest calling is motherhood. A woman is most fulfilled when she is serving her family. A godly woman thinks of others first, always. A godly woman is most holy when she is forgetting herself and serving others.
These are just a few of the messages I internalized over the years, beginning in college up until now. And yet here I sat, in my living room in rural Nova Scotia, one month after moving away from all that I knew, and I had a moment to think about where I had ended up. I was a stay-at-home mom of three wonderful children, married to a successful engineer, with a beautifully decorated home. I had believed all of the "right" things. I had stayed in the sphere that is "for godly women." I had forgotten myself and served others no matter the personal cost. I had done everything I could to make everyone I knew happy.
And I was miserable. Unhappy. Resentful. Unfulfilled.
I have spent the last year and a half finding my way back to myself. I had forgotten in the years of babies, and middle of the night feedings, and chaos to ask myself what I needed. I had forgotten in the years of trying to be a "godly woman" what kind of music, and books, and wine I really liked. I had forgotten in trying to be the perfect wife that my dreams and goals are just as important as my husband's. In fact, I had forgotten that I had my own dreams and goals altogether.
I allowed my desire to be perfect, to meet other's expectations, to be "godly", to completely erase my own individual sense of self.
It has been a difficult journey back. I've had to ask myself hard questions. What do I really believe? Can I retain my faith while rejecting all of the messaging that sought to restrain me? Can I be a good mom and still pursue my own career goals? Is my marriage strong enough to withstand a huge overhaul of roles and responsibilities? Can I be comfortable enough in my own skin to stop caring so much what other people think?
As I found myself alone, the kids at school and daycare, I began to wonder what the future held for me, now that the intense years of baby and toddlerhood had passed. How could I find fulfillment while still making everyone happy?
The short answer is, I couldn't. In order to be fulfilled, I knew I needed a challenging career. A job that allowed me to still be there when the kids got off the bus and home for summer and flexible enough to still attend all the school events and be home for sick days just didn't feel challenging enough. I didn't just want to pass the time while the kids were at school. I wanted to do something that mattered. I wanted something that I could really throw myself into. Something that would fully engage all of my talents and brain.
So, my therapist (everyone needs a therapist, just saying) encouraged me to take a few weeks to dream of a future without all of those expectations. If no one expected anything of you, what would you do? I didn't need a few weeks to think about it. I knew right away. I would go to law school. I had wanted to go to law school after college. But in my desire to make others happy, and in my worry about how to balance marriage and growing a family I had decided not to.
"Great!" my therapist said, "I think you'd make a great lawyer." You do??? I thought. It was the first time in a very, very long time that I thought about what I really wanted, and had the courage to take the risk to try it.
And that's how I ended up in law school. I researched programs that I could do from Canada that would allow me to sit for the Bar when I got back to the States. I studied for a few weeks for the LSAT, applied, and was accepted to Syracuse University.
It has not been easy. I spend hours and hours and hours reading. Late night Zoom classes mean missing out on kid bedtimes. Ben is stepping in to help make dinners and pack lunches and backpacks. When the kids are sick at home, it means I have to make up the time I lose studying on the weekends. The kids have missed me when I have to travel for school. Ben and I have had our share of arguments over the many changes and the new split of household and kid duties, and had long talks about what it means to juggle two careers.
But I have never felt more fulfilled in my entire life. My marriage finally feels like the marriage of two equals. Two individuals with goals and dreams and both can be supported. Motherhood has moved into it's rightful place in my heart. It doesn't define my life, it is just one piece of it. My kids are seeing that my goals, dreams, and needs are just as important as theirs, and that in a healthy family we support each other. It's not just mom's job to serve and support all the people. And individually, I am so happy with my decision to go back to school. I finally have something I can call my own, something that engages my heart and mind and celebrates my talents and abilities. I've helped investigate war crimes in Ukraine, and written a white paper exposing human rights violations in China for the International Olympic Committee, and gotten straight A's while doing it. I've met some like minded women who inspire me to show up and be myself every single day. I have no idea what kind of law I am going to practice yet, but I am excited for wherever the journey takes me.
I'm learning I love margarita nights. And Justin Bieber concerts. And I'm still thinking through my faith. My core belief in a sovereign Creator remains, but I am skeptical of the patriarchal power politics that go on in a lot of churches. The ones that are preoccupied with what they think a woman's role is. And I'm ok with saying so, which I was afraid to do before. I hope I can find a faith community that celebrates me exactly as I am.
Next summer we will move back to the US. And I will be moving back as a changed person. And while this season here in Canada has been so hard, it has also been exactly what I needed, and I am filled with gratitude for what it has allowed me to become.
I read this poem by Morgan Harper Nichols that captures exactly how I feel in this season of life:
I am letting go. I am finally free to outgrow the spaces that tried to restrain me.
I am not who I used to be and that is a beautiful thing.
