What Sort of Mum Does That?

How to not feel guilty for choosing to pursue your own adventure.

Actually, I’m not sure you’ll find that guilt-free solution contained within, but perhaps you’ll find some solace. Plus, guilt loves company so come feel it out with me.

Ok, it stands to reason that I should address this as if it were a classroom, considering I will need all the practise I can get. So, hands up who here has experienced or experiences mother guilt (or parent guilt)?

I’m sitting on the floor, pretty much hiding out under the pretence of ‘work’. I’m staring at a blank screen and about to devour a bowl of ice cream, topped with ice magic. I love ice magic. It thoroughly annoys me that my kids love it too and totally expect me to share. It is also downright sadistic that the container still feels half-full when there are only droplets left.

Needless to say, I have staked claim to this wondrous, hardening chocolate topping treat in my home and anyone who dares come near it better be ready to use their persuasive prose (aka, best begging) skills for me to share. Yes, another tick in the box of mother guilt- I’m undermining the importance of sharing to my kids AND by way of inference (ok, by direct denial) indicating that my chocolate needs are more valid than theirs. Oh well, they’ll be adults one day and can make their own ice magic decisions.

While this isn’t about ice magic, it’s definitely about how much of myself I ‘share’ with others. I whole heartedly love my husband, my kids, my parents, sisters and brother. And, with them I share the most of me that I can offer. But, I also love myself. I value who I am as a person, so sometimes it’s necessary to choose ‘me’. It’s not easy to choose me. It feels like it’s a trade-off, like I’m forsaking all others. I feel guilty. But, I also feel excited.

I was offered a short-term teaching position in Kuwait, the middle east. A tiny, oil rich, hot, dry (both landscape and alcohol, yes- wine will miss me), country wedged between Iraq and Saudi Arabia. It’s an adventure just for me. No hubby, no kids.

While I made the decision to ‘go’ in my head initially, I then decided to ‘go’ again when I discussed it with hubby. I then decided to ‘go’ again when I discussed it with the kids (although, I’m pretty sure they were under the assumption they were coming with me). Then I decided to ‘go’ again when I discussed it with my parents.

Usually, I am crippled by indecision. But this time there was one clear opportunity ripe for the picking and the same decision to go kept floating to the top. Beyond my family, I don’t generally seek approval from those around me, or anyone really. But, I felt buoyed by my decision on seeing the raised eyebrows, ‘oh’ shaped lips and wanderlust twinkles in people’s eyes before their voice gave away their support and excitement for me. Either that, or they are really good at faking the ‘she’s freakin’ crazy’ look?

I must say how amazing the people in my life are. Both near and far. Almost every person I have talked to about this adventure has been overwhelmingly supportive. I literally, stopped typing just now to read a message from a friend (yes, I act like a distracted millennial and instantly look at messages as my phone dings, despite my 80’s, 90’s and naughties wise-ness) to see “6 weeks in Kuwait, wow! Take every opportunity”. I’m certain there are those who have reserved their opinion, and I appreciate that. That is, I appreciate they have kept it to themselves. Nobody needs a wet blanket to smother the excitement fire and add to the smoky screen of guilt.

So, it would seem it would all be building excitement and smooth sailing from this decided-to-go (4 times) point, but there-in lies that nasty, sabotaging creature of self-doubt. What sort of mother does that? Leaves her family for 6 weeks on a self-indulgent adventure. It’s certainly not for the money, so I can’t justify it that way.

I literally start to wonder who I am. So, considering google knows everything. I googled myself. Don’t laugh…as if you’ve never googled yourself before?! Do it now – go on, I’ll wait here while you check out who you really are, just don’t leave me hangin’ too long and make sure you open a new tab, so you can come back instantly and comment below about who you discovered you were on Google. If you don’t I’ll slather some of my guilt trip on you! Hmmm, maybe I’m learning to harness this guilt for self-serving purposes?!

It turns out that I did actually discover a lot about me. Note to self: I could so be a private investigator one day, just call me stalker extraordinaire! Firstly, there is another person with my exact name. It’s not like Kylie McCorquodale is a common name, so I’m not quite as unique as I thought. And, apparently, I’m an athlete. Most information, that is not about the other (completely uninteresting) Kylie McCorquodale, is all to do with results, times and races for triathlon and running. They are certainly big parts of my life, but I thought I was more than that. Guess I’ll just have to blaze a wider trail when I jump through the fire wall of the interwebs.

The only way I’m going to find myself is by being myself (der!) and part of that is leaping into adventurous opportunities. Overcoming the guilt that’s associated with doing things for myself is a matter of practise-makes-perfect. I’ve taken plenty of ‘me’ time for triathlon training. So, going to Kuwait is just a more gigantic version of that, I guess.

The decision. You know that one, that I made 4 times? It was complicated by life. More so, it became complicated by death. My father is terminally ill. It is a difficult time for my extremely close-knit family. My parents are an amazing couple, the epitome of how a married couple should be. Loving, caring, strong willed, feisty and always laughing. Oh, and they share their food with their kids! But, my mum is caring for my dad full time and is scared to let me go, despite her encouragement for me to go.

I did a quiz of some of my family members and the same sentiment kept arising, ‘Go!’. Most importantly, I asked my dad and his response never wavered, he also said to ‘Go’. While this helped me decide for a 5th time that I was going to Kuwait, it doesn’t erase the guilt. What if something terrible happens and I’m not here? What if my mum can’t cope? Am I running away from reality? What if, what if, what if…

To answer my own question ‘What sort of mum does that?’ Well, me. I do. I’ve been through every justification for and against. I’ve cried. I’ve been cranky and illogical. I’ve been removed and rational. I still feel guilty but I’m the sort of mum who takes opportunities, chooses adventure and makes the most of life. Decision made and confirmed. So, why am I so torn? Then I realised I needed to rephrase my question to ‘What sort of daughter does that?’ I am overcome with emotion and can’t bear the thought to be away from those I love the most. The 6th and final decision is made and plans cancelled. I’m disappointed that I’m not going, but feel sick to my stomach at the thought of not being here to be the daughter I want to be.

ps. This just means there is another adventurous opportunity awaiting me at a different time. Stay tuned!

Maʿ al-salāmah for now!
xk