I balance between my children’s needs and mine because I believe I’m modeling self-care for them (if things are urgent for my children or important for their emotional and physical well-being, I take care of them, but there are times when I allow them to wait and take care of myself first… yes, I would take the dawdling three-year-old off the potty if I needed to go… and if I later needed to clean poop off the floor, I’d just do it :-)). And I take whole days off from all obligations–work and family. I know all this allows me to earn more, be happier, and be my absolute best self for my children.
Beautifully written and powerful essay, thank you. As the mother of an 11- and 7-year-old, I’ve found more personal/writing time as my kids have gotten older; older kids generally need less constant attention, and by age 10/11, often prefer to be with friends. (This of course may not be true for many special needs children.) They still need their parents a whole lot, but it isn’t the overwhelming, suffocating kind of need I felt when they were newborn/toddlers. But in my experience, it does not get easier to “do what we want.” This essay reminded me to keep asking what I want (do men ever question this?), and that I deserve help (from my partner, etc.) to get it.
Description of My Best Friend Essay - 1128 Words
I grew up with this fear: that the material that was near to me would be no good. I would have to live a life that would somehow bring me nearer to the topics “real” literature was about: war, violence, politics, travel and adventure. To this end, I moved to New York, traveled to India, and dated men who could tell me about the worlds I did not have access to, men who had been to prison, men who had been homeless, men who had been in mental institutions. I was troubled by my female protagonists who seemed to have so many emotions. They would have to go; they would have to change. I would have to change. In short, I was certain that what I really needed to do was write for men. I’m not sure anyone has written more combustibly about this recently than Claire Vaye Watkins in her essay She writes of her short story collection Battleborn: