Author: Nicholette Carlson

As a writer and an avid reader, I tend to use articles and stories as a way to learn things I don’t fully understand or try to describe feelings I can’t put into simple words.

One article I came across a while back was about marriage and the writer also penned something about depression. This became a revolution for me.

As I pored over words about not becoming a victim of depression, choosing your own reaction to the negative things that occur in your life and accepting that things are out of your control, I realized something extremely important. It took me by surprise how quickly the realization hit me and it scared me that somehow I hadn’t even noticed.

I had stopped fighting.

My resilience at overcoming life’s obstacles was one thing I could always be proud of. I had experienced the help of so many people to get to where I was and, after making it that far I knew I could do anything. I had met others like myself who had gone through terrible situations and come out in a way I never would have guessed. It was all about the person’s reaction to their situation that determined their outcome.

Some people became the very thing they despised. The very thing they feared becoming.

Some close themselves off from the world, trying to protect themselves and those they love by hardly giving themselves any experiences. Experiences could be bad and so it is safer without anything.

Some become selfish and even cruel. They were put into awful circumstances far beyond their control and so the rest of the world needs to make it up to them. They shouldn’t have to do anything because they were dealt a bad hand.

Some cling to the bad moments in the past as if it was a life preserver. Nothing will ever change because that’s just who they are. It couldn’t possibly get better and they’re just meant to have a messed up, unhappy life.

I would marvel at these responses. Sure I could relate and understand but it felt like such an awful way to live life. I didn’t understand how anyone could choose that.

Yet, here I was. A victim allowing circumstances to dictate my life. I was living in a world of negativity, expecting the worst at all times and allowing myself to be anxious about everything. While anxiety, depression and everything that comes along with it maybe be a part of my life, it is not the part that defines me. It is not who I am.

I am overly emotional and silly with a loud, ridiculous laugh like my Grandma’s.

I am attractive and intelligent.

I am someone who likes to stay busy and always knows there is some task to be completed.

I am a tad bit compulsive with a large, crazy, messy family who make it nearly impossible to be compulsive.

I am partially an introvert and partially an extrovert. Being around people makes me anxious but also helps me to focus. Being by myself is peaceful but also makes my brain go a million miles a minute.

I am someone who puts too much on my own shoulders and has a hard time asking for help, let alone accepting it.

I am a writer and a reader.

I am a wife and a mother.

I love challenges. I thrive on overcoming obstacles and finding solutions to problems. I was given the life I have because I could not only survive but I could use it to become a better, more loving person.

No one has a predetermined amount of suffering that they deserve. Life is all about taking what we are given and doing the best with what we’ve got. You will get sad and angry. You will feel lost and alone.

Take these moments and accept them as part of who you are, but do not let them define you.

You are so much more than anything that happens to you.

You define you.

Being a stepmom is an amazing thing. She gets to know these beautiful children, love them with every ounce of her being, and watch them grow into amazing human beings. But it’s difficult because at the end of the day, no matter how strong their bond is, they will never be her biological children. She could love them harder than any other soul on the planet, but that doesn’t make them her babies. Sometimes we overlook the struggles our stepmother faces because she puts on such a strong front on the daily.

1. It cuts her deep knowing even if the kids call her ‘mom’ she’ll never be their blood. 

No matter how long she’s been around, no matter how good her relationship is with their birth mother, no matter how supportive her husband is– she just isn’t their mom. Its heartbreaking because she wants so badly to get that one step closer to them, but it’s a wall that feels impossible to climb.

2. And every time she’s reminded that she’s not an actual parent stings. 

A lot. While most people might suggest it should get easier, it does not. In fact, it seems to get harder. The more effort she puts forth and the more she gives of herself, the more she feels like she’s finally getting somewhere– only to be reminded she’s not their actual parent.

3. She’s not asked for her opinion on many topics — big or small. 

What parent has the inclination to discuss something about their own child with someone else who is not their actual parent? It is their child and they ultimately hold the power of the decision. It breaks her heart though because she’s invested so much time and energy into this little human being that wins her heart over on the daily. Now life is happening around her and it’s completely out of her hands.

4. Legally, she’s irrelevant. 

It breaks her heart to think about what would become of them if something were to happen to their father. Because at the end of the day, legally they are his kids and his ex’s, not hers. No matter how much she loves them, that can’t win over a court to their birth mother. She would suddenly lose the kids she’s put her heart, soul, and energy into raising in a split second.

5. But regardless, she is still always expected to be a parent. 

This is when the frustration sets in because she’s being pulled in a million different directions. She’s somewhere between not wanting to cross any lines but knowing this child needs her. She’s been there through wiping noses, cooking dinner, and making sure teeth are clean, but there are also deep-seated issues that she becomes a part of as well. Can she give advice on how to handle a bully? What if her advice is the exact opposite of the child’s birth mother’s?

6. She hates not being around for the big moments. 

All situations are different, but there are always some things that she misses. It might be their first steps, potty training, first day of school, or their violin concert. No matter the importance of the event, it breaks her heart to not be there and cheer her step-babies on.

7. More people tell her she’s “only a stepmom” than she lets anyone know. 

“You are not actually raising the children because you are not the primary household, the real mom or an actual parent.” While she may be a good influence, she only sees them so often… so what difference could she possibly truly be making? People are blind to the fact that these kids feel like her own.

8. Some days she feels like everyone would be just fine without her.

Sometimes it’s tough for her to stand on the sidelines and just watch. Some days it feels like the children already have their role models, people they aspire to be when they grow up, and it sure as heck isn’t her. They already have two parents who love them unconditionally and it hurts to think like that, but it’s a real emotion that she deals with often.

9.  Fights that end in “you’re not my mom,” echo in her head, not allowing her to forget those words. 

Hearing they hate her tears up her heart like it does anyone else. Unfortunately for stepmoms, it tends to be followed by a version of “You’re not my real mom,” designed specifically to twist the knife in her soul.

10. But the love hurts too, in a different way.

Sometimes they will love her more than anything. They will call her the best mom ever or wish that she was their “real mom” and it will hurt. She will feel guilt over them saying that and then she will feel more guilt for feeling so much joy when they said it.

11. She’s always wishing things could be different, but tries so hard to accept each day as a blessing. 

She’s simply thankful to have these magnificent children in her life. She also gets to create special moments and memories with them that will be all her own. When everything else may suck, she is just glad to have them in her life no matter what.

The love between a stepmother and her ‘kids’ is something incredibly rare and special and pure. It is a choice. It is not easy, but it is rewarding. It is a love the likes of which she has never experienced before. So no matter how many people tell her they aren’t her kids, they will always play a huge role and be the light of her life.

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Ever feel really accomplished just to look around feel like it didn’t make a difference?

With three dogs, approximately 60 chickens and ducks outside and three children two weekends a month, the housework can pile up quickly. Then, once you finally feel that satisfaction of having completed a task like laundry or dishes or mopping, muddy pawprints or a mysterious pile of dirty clothes or dinner takes place and suddenly it feels like you are right back where you started.

I experience slight compulsions for order and cleanliness which can cause my anxiety to flare up over the simplest, most insignificant of things. My constant urges to clean ALSO causes my anxiety to flare up because I feel like I never have a chance to rest or relax or enjoy anything.

So what is a woman to do?

Force herself to agree to a compromise.

So here it is. For the next two weeks my husband will take on more responsibility around the house to help out. He has chosen to clean the bathroom as well as kitchen appliances.

I am to clean on one day only. Apart from necessary tasks such as taking out the trash, oading up the dishwasher or cleaning up things from dinner. Everything else on just one day. That will then leave the remaining six days of the week for me to relax more and spend more time with family. In his mind, this will, for all intents and purposes, force me to worry less about housework because I’m not allowed to do anything until Saturday or Sunday.

At this point I think it is only fair to mention that I am stubborn to a fault and have been doing things my own way since I moved out and went to college. So admitting that there was another way to do anything was not something I was keen to do. But sometimes the most important things are the difficult ones.

If I’m being totally honest, part of the reason I finally agreed was so that, when it didn’t work, he would finally just leave me be to do things my way.

And so the two week trial period begins. I spent the majority of Saturday and some of Sunday doing absolutely everything on my to-do list. I felt great afterward. I was actually amazed there wasn’t more to do once I finally finished everything.

Now, the difficult portion begins. To do nothing. Like a cleaning junkie, I find myself trying to plot what I could do secretly before he gets home from work to get some kind of “fix.”

Instead I am forcing myself to attempt to focus, not on the compulsion or the anxiety, but on what is truly important. Family. Quality time. So I will create as much order as I can out of nightly dinners and clean up and then allow myself time to decompress from the day and wind down with a book or conversation or television.

While I am sure these two weeks will not be easy and I’m unsure whether this whole cleaning routine will really work out, particularly in the laundry department, I will be making an effort to ensure that our children don’t have to come hunt me down and ask when I’m coming to watch a movie with them or my husband isn’t asking me to come sit with him for over an hour because I’m “busy doing stuff.”

I will compromise because, even if the cleaning schedule is under control, my anxiety isn’t.

And maybe, just maybe, allowing myself to change my routine will ease my compulsive, anxious mind.