Feeling Guilt-Free in a Work-Life Balance

I've spent the last month submerging myself in work and several side projects. Though I have felt an immense sense of satisfaction investing time and energy on matters that personally matter to me, I'm also ashamed to admit I have grown increasingly fearful--not of personal successes or failures--but scared that all this work takes me away from my family.

The Hubby is supportive and continually encourages me to pursue my interests. His main concern, like mine, is deciphering the source of this sudden anxiety.

Finding a work-life balance has been a continual struggle for me. I love work for the opportunities to problem-solve, interact with others. Meanwhile, I deeply cherish my family, being a mother and a wife.

The Hubby and I divide housework and child care responsibilities fairly. We both have jobs we like. Yet, he seems to be a doing a better job at being in the moment, at home, at work.

I came across this infographic from the Captivate Network that demonstrates how men are happier at work-life balance than women. How come?

Another study from researchers from the University of Toronto in the Journal of Health and Social Behavior suggests that it could be because "women are able to juggle their work and family lives just as well as men, but they feel more guilty...This guilt seems to be at the heart of their distress."

Admittedly, I am guilty of feeling guilty. I realize that I can choose not to expend so much energy towards pleasing the Hubby or meeting others' expectation--real or self-imposed. Rather, why not take pride in myself, my accomplishments, my role in caring for my family? Of finding peace, separate from others, from within.

Who the Hell Are You Again? Keeping Secrets in a Marriage

It sat heavy on my conscience like a bag of marbles. A tiny insignificant secret I kept from the Hubby for over six months.

Fingers clenched tightly in palms and a stomach twisted with anxiety, I looked into his eyes and released the truth.

By mandyxclear, using the Creative Common license

Small or large, secrets hurt. Years of living together, comfortably confident in knowing your partner completely, suddenly you’re dealt an emotional smack to the face that threatens to injure or even end a marriage.

So why do we keep secrets from our loved ones?

A relapse in judgment, concern over disappointing your partner, fear of rejection.

As writer Paulo Coelho once said, what makes people weak is their need for validation and recognition. I agree. I live in a state of hyper-vigilance, avoiding failure at all cost, all because I'm terrified that I won’t be loved if I’m not perfect.

Years of self-refection I’ve come to understand where this belief system may have come from. Growing up in a win-at-all-cost household where only straight A's where acceptable, I believed I was only worthy of my parent’s love through my accomplishments, successes and by living up to their expectations. So rather than risk disappointing them, I learned to hide things.

I’ve come to understand that failure is a normal and inevitable part of life (and that my parents do love me unconditionally and only wanted the very best for me). And rather than dwell in the past, in a state of self-pity and self-loathing, it’s best to learn from my mistakes and move on. And to celebrate other things apart from success like being considerate, accountable, and above all honest.

By telling the truth, I validate my worth from within. But more importantly, by being true to my Hubby, I experience true love: experiencing the most powerful thing in the world without having to do anything for it.

Daughter-In-Law Versus Mother-In-Law: War of the Roses

You’ve probably heard that marriage can be likened to a rose, which blossoms only when tended carefully and lovingly.

And being the tending, loving and caring gardener you are, the roses are blooming—but not without a lot of blood, sweat and tears. When you and the Hubby fight, you diligently work out your differences and learn how to communicate better.

But, what if those heated exchanges aren’t necessarily with the Hubby? But about his family and more exactly his mother?

If marriage is like a rose, then the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship is surely the thorns.

I’ve recently seen my share of thorny mother-in-law/daughter-in-law stories. His mother is demanding, critical, intrusive. She mopes around and always wants his pity. His wife is cold. She excludes me from functions and minimizes my role.

What always surprises me is not how often the Hubby chooses mother over wife—but that he’s entirely clueless when doing it. Seeing his wife as the stronger and maybe even the more reasonable party, he asks that she give mother some slack. That’s my mother. That’s how she is. Just accept her. Thinking he is protecting his wife by diffusing the situation, he unfortunately leaves the wife feeling terrible for disrespecting the family matriarch. She feels abandoned and rejected without the Hubby’s support.

So if I could offer simple tips on building healthier mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationships, I would say:

Hubbies, Prune baby Prune.
Encourage roses to bloom by attentively trimming those sickly shoots and letting healthier ones grow. What works beautifully in my marriage is when the Hubby listens to my concerns, complaints and hurt feelings without having to agree or endorse them. And vice-versa, delicately drawing boundaries with his mother on what is acceptable criticism and behavior.

Mother-in-laws, Lay down a THICK layer of mulch over those weeds.
Being mother-in-law sadly doesn’t include the same freedoms as being a mother. So step back, abstain from unsolicited advice, and quite simply bite your tongue.

Daughter-in laws: Offer A LOT of sunshine.
Let mama shine by upping the respect to the 1000th degree. Remember, she raised this fabulous man you call Hubby. So be (overly) attentive, gracious and inclusive.

Motivational Monday: Reclaiming a Marriage After an Unplanned Pregnancy

This past week, our daughter spent some time with her grandparents. She played with her cousins, consumed massive amounts of sweets, and stayed up late watching her beloved Disney movies. Basically, she had a blast. Just as importantly, the Hubby and I had some much-needed alone time.

By mharvey 75 using the Creative Commons License

Our daughter—as much as we love her—was a surprise. Dating for several years, we planned to marry and start a family eventually. But mother nature inevitably took charge and we couldn’t procrastinate any longer. Glaring down a positive pregnancy test and barely visible baby bump, we suddenly found ourselves with an enormous responsibility at hand. To grow up quickly, to become the responsible nine-to-fiver, that buys insurance and pension plans, owns a family car and home. The whole nine yards in merely nine months. And yes, add getting married at six-months pregnant into the mix.

Like my hormones, our relationship went through a whirlwind. We never experienced marriage minus the kids, or even a honeymoon. But we regarded all previous years being just a couple the vacation—which now seemed like a distant memory.

During our week alone, we made several references to those missing marital years: Well, this must be what being married feels like! We had dinners alone. Deep conversations over wine. Long walks holding hands. A marriage uninterrupted.

Yet, at times I would glance behind me and notice an empty carseat, toddler bed, toys scattered across the living room floor. As much as we wanted to relive our carefree years through these date nights, we weren’t young anymore, nor single or childless.

We are a family.

Reuniting with my daughter again brought so much joy. She is the heart of all our hard work, our marriage and our life. She is not a burden, or the symbol of a single life lost. She is the product of our strength, perseverance, and faith that love conquers all.

If being away from my daughter confirmed my desire for family, it also exemplified our imminent future—of plenty more alone time. For all our hard work and love will finally come to fruition when our daughter ultimately claims her independence. And rather than wishing for some much-needed alone time, I will be desperately grasping to hold her in my arms again.

By Miss Kim Marie, using the Creative Commons License 

But, maybe by then, the Hubby and I would have already repaired age-old wounds, built deeper connections, and renewed spirits—so we can too frolic the sandy beaches of some distant island, like a newly married couple, looking onward to the horizon.

Cosmic Mess Makes Good Fertilizer

By Mundoo using the Creative Commons License

I recently came across a piece in Scientific American regarding the galaxy cluster Abell 2744, which astronomers have dubbed Pandora’s Cluster because it contains so many unusual phenomena. In order to produce a complete image of Abell 2744, astronomers used an arsenal of telescopes to explain Pandora’s strange and messy features. Well, it turns out it's actually the result of a simultaneous collision of four separate galaxies clusters.

I had my own strange and messy collision recently. On route to running weekend chores, the Hubby and I exchanged some brutal words. A routine car ride abruptly became a He Said/She Said shit storm that shattered and tattered feelings, egos and trust. And like a mature adult, I capped off our marital eruption with the silent treatment.

The Hubby and I have our differences. We come from different backgrounds, have different perspectives, different communications skills. Given these differences, I have always focused on unveiling our own histories and abnormalities, or as lead researcher Julian Merten put it, “how different types of matter interact with each other when they are smashed together,” for the sake of pointing out the wrong.  So what does our recent cosmic pile-up say about me and our relationship?

I acted stupid.

Following our blowout fight, I disengaged, went my separate way, let my ill feelings fester. The Hubby repeatedly tried to apologize but I refused. Yes, I was angry, hurt and frustrated. But honestly, I behaved stupidly. I have to fess up to my own foolish tendency— to blame others for my own unhappiness.

It’s contagious.

It’s easy to point the finger at people that did me wrong. To engage in ongoing, petty dramas and hold on to silly grudges.  Really, if I search hard enough, I can find somebody or something to blame. This is not to say he was faultless. Sure, he was wrong. But how is holding on to anger going to solve anything? All it does is isolate us further from each other. Interestingly, Pandora’s complex collision appears to have separated out hot gas and dark matter so that they now lie apart from each other, and from the visible galaxies. This puzzling arrangement may be telling astronomers something about how dark matter behaves.

Entertain me.

Why collide, explode and separate? Because it’s familiar, comfortable and hell of a lot easier than changing. Change is hard! Unfortunately, Life is a stage that requires its actors to be front and center, not in the far back seats. Because at the heart of change is connection, intimacy, love. Change implies constantly evolving to connect with each other on deeper levels. To see past all our differences, messes and abnormalities, and to focus on a stronger energy.

Love.

So yes, there will be many, many, many more collisions and without a doubt unusual and stupid phenomena in our future. But I will keep believing in those invisible, cosmic threads out there in the universe that connect us all.

A Butt Smacking Good Time

Making my way to the kitchen, I walk past the Hubby sitting on the couch reading the paper. I move in slowly, ease my pace slightly, and subtly place the butt into eye view. Three-quarters into my turn, I feel a swift smack. We have contact and all is good.

Equivalent to a hug, smooch or holding hands, nothing says I love you like having my bottom slapped. In the kitchen, running upstairs, getting in the car—all fine opportunities for a good smack.

Photo by ilmungo using Creative Common License.

Why the behind? Like most Latinas, I have been bestowed with a rather round rump. The object of shame for many years, it has been ridiculed, hidden behind baggy t-shirts and sweaters, and treated with fad diets that failed to diminish the derrière.  And like the ugly duckling that transformed to a beautiful swan, Cinderella’s rags to a ball gown, my badonkadonk has too changed from a thing that taunts to one I flaunt. 

And though I enjoy receiving the Hubby’s other conventional means of affection, the booty slap is surprisingly the most loving. And before anyone suggest that it’s degrading, I’d like to enforce that the act is 100% consensual, done privately, and one I completely encourage.

So rather than condemn, I’m going to lose the baggy sweats and low(er)-body confidence for my sexiest accessory—confidence—and praise all my God-given assets.