Auntie Dacia

It was just over four years ago that I became an aunt for the first time. My nieces, Kate and Ava, were born in October of 2010. Up until that time, I spent very little time around kids. I'd never changed a diaper, never even held a newborn. I very distinctly remember holding my nieces for the first time, feeling my heart expand to make room for all the extra love.

Since that time, I have now become an auntie/honorary auntie 9 times over, and my heart continues to expand to fit each new kiddo. It is such a humbling experience, to know that you are important enough in the lives of your friends that they see you as an auntie to their children. So now there are a bevy of kiddos in my life that I am auntie to. Sometimes I'm really flaky at it, other times I kind of rock at it.

When I stop to think about what it means to be an aunt, my mind always goes back to my own two aunts, and what they've meant to me in my life*. My mom has an older and younger sister. I've written a character sketch on my Aunt Deb and drafted one for my Aunt Donna (but it still needs more work). I have always had a close relationship with both my aunts. To me, my aunts have filled many roles in my life. They are cheerleaders. They spoil me occasionally. They give me straight talk when I need it. They take me on adventures. They listen to me whine and give encouragement. They understand me. And I know, completely and entirely, that they love me dearly.

They are anchors in my life.

And that is what I want to be for all these sweet kiddos who came into my world. I may never have the opportunity to be a mom and that's okay. But I am already an aunt, and I can be fantastic at that.

For me, I hope that being an aunt will mean knowing their favorite colors (this week). I hope that they will tell me their very important secrets. I hope that being an aunt will mean taking them on special outings and having adventures. I hope they will know I always have their back, even when they think their parents are being "so unfair". I hope that it will mean reading to them cuddled up on the couch, then someday listen to them reading to me. I hope that they will get annoyed with me sometimes because I make them mind. I hope someday they will ask me for advice and think I'm wise (or maybe just goofy). I hope I will be there for their "big moments" and for many of the small ones. I hope that they call me when they're mad, and text me just to say hi.

I hope that I will be an anchor in their lives, a safe place to land, a person they can always turn to.


*To be clear, I have an uncle as well, my Uncle Stan, and he is also wonderful/fantastic/loving/awesome. His character sketch is also drafted . . . I'm terribly slow and careful with them.

Failure is an option

I have discovered something troubling about myself. I’ve been semi-aware of it in the murky recesses of my mind, but I haven’t ever wrestled it by the horns and looked it in the eye before.

I was trying to understand why I turn into a complete basket case when it comes to sharing my creative writing. My panic is illogical. I am under no illusions that I’m writing the next great American novel. My writing is neither perfect nor completely atrocious. And I’m not sharing a very serious project, just something I write for fun. 

This led to further introspections and in the midst of this, I discovered an unappealing (and surprising, at least to me) truth. 

I hate being bad at things. Apparently quite a lot.  

There is a long list of things I avoid, without giving much thought to it. I know I’m not good at them and so I just never do them. Any form of organized sports, because I’m uncoordinated and non-competitive. Basically, I avoid any form of movement (dancing, etc.) that involves coordination. Singing. Large group socializing. Public speaking. Math or most things that involve numbers (can’t avoid doing my own bills though, sigh). Painting/Drawing.

Then there are things I want to be good at, but I’m not sure if I am or I know that I’m not. And until I have convinced myself that I can do those things well, I don’t want anyone to observe my feeble attempts to improve. It makes me panic to think of people seeing me struggle at something that I really want to do well. I’ll use writing as an example of this, since I’m not quite up for sharing some of the other multitude of things I want to be good at and struggle with. 

So what is the difference, for me, between creative writing and just blogging? Well, for the most part I know that you can’t really be bad at having an opinion or a thought to share. I may phrase an opinion inelegantly or say something you disagree with. But at the end of the day, I’m not rated on it. Blogging is something I’m enjoy, but not something I worry about being average at.  

But I have a really, really hard time at the idea of people observing me struggle at writing creatively, because I want to do it well. From the time I was very young, I’ve spent a ridiculously large chunk of my life reading books. In my little world, a good book is priceless and worthy of my adoration. There are some great books that have entirely shaped my way of thinking. And I get cranky when I read something that was poorly written/edited.  For me, the idea of writing a good book someday that other people might enjoy is a dream that I often feel nervous to even acknowledge. So many people are unsuccessful at it. Plenty of people think they have an idea worth writing about and they end up being very wrong.  The idea of writing a book that someone else might consider a great book is something I can’t even let myself think about. I want it too much. 

And that is what I find troubling. Am I so afraid to fail that I won’t even try? Am I so daunted by the idea of receiving negative, or sometimes worse, no feedback, that I can’t share my projects? Most writers rely on other people to read their work and offer opinions/changes/edits. You cannot write in a bubble. The only person I’d ever consistently allowed to read my writings in the past is my best friend, and while she is an excellent cheerleader, she is not entirely impartial. 

I will never achieve the dream of writing something good if I don’t allow room for feedback – positive, negative, neutral, or indifferent. In fact, I will never achieve anything in life if I don’t try . . . and fail. Sometimes we learn more in life from our failures than our successes, and I am often unwilling to do things that I will fail at. 

So now I'm wondering, what could I accomplish in life if I allow myself to fail a little more?