I Want To Be A Cow
Sigh. I don’t even know where to start. It just never fucking ends. The issues. The shit. The unexpected trouble. The unwanted challenges. The unwelcomed struggle. The unbearable pain.
I feel done. Done with this week. Done with the barrage of unending bad luck. I’m tired of problem-solving. I think the wires of my brain are overheating.
This morning, I found myself feeling jealous as I stared out at the neighbor's peaceful herd of cows. I don’t think cows have much to worry about. It comes down to basic survival. That sounds pretty basic. I like it. Currently, I am exhausted with the complications of life.
Today I was supposed to be leaving on my solo motorcycle trip. I have been planning and saving for this trip for almost a year. After a lot of work and organizing, the pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place. Until my motorcycle wouldn’t start. Fuck.
Nate, Jenna, and I had spent the evening before doing a complete check including changing the oil and filter. Earlier this year, I had even taken my motorcycle to a mechanic to have it all checked over and prepped for a long road trip. I had replaced the battery and a buttload of other things.
Turns out, the charging system is bad - which is not an easy repair and no shop had the items in stock. After a day on the phone, including Nate and Jenna researching online and calling places, I gave up. The trip was going to have to be moved back a week. I was so frustrated that I would have canceled the whole thing except I had $640 in an AirBnB that was nonrefundable. I felt trapped.
If you have been reading along with my blogs every week, you know by now that the feeling of being trapped is extremely traumatizing for me. Vehicles break down all the time and we all know that is life. But this situation felt way too close to home for me. I felt like the walls were closing in and my choices were being decided for me. The pressure of the situation hit my body hard. I found myself shaking, crying, shivering, and trying to calm myself. I wanted to run away. The logical part of my brain tried to shame me for overreacting, but for the life of me, I could not stop the panic from filling my body.
Trauma is a real thing. The day I am writing this blog is October 10th. October 10th is World Mental Health Day. I spent most of my life suppressing trauma, ignoring the urgent alarms in my body. I had to. It was the only way to stay alive inside the toxic environment I grew up in. It’s also what I was taught to do. “Never trust yourself.” “Be the doormat.” “Take the lower place.” “Obey without question.” Religion makes an excellent cage. People are lured in with the promise of everlasting life but once they come in, they become trapped with shame and fear. We are sold the lie that it’s all about this incredibly loving God, and then we find out that this God is a super jealous, unpredictable tyrant who will send us to burn in eternity if we do not follow his 101 rules.
Now I know that everyone has different life experiences and my goal is not to bash those who find comfort in believing in an invisible creator. However, I do want to acknowledge that religious trauma is a real thing. Damn real - and I have talked to many people who are still trying to find healing from the damage religion did to them.
Growing up in the cult, I was told that therapists were bad and that all anyone ever needed was God. God could fix everything. We only needed to pray more, read the bible more, suffer more, seek more, believe more, be more, and die to ourselves more. And then if we still didn’t feel better, God was probably trying to teach us patience. In that case, we needed to wait more.
Hopefully, you are reading this and thinking, “Man that’s messed up!” As I sit here typing this, even after 5 years of healing, I am still shocked by the ridiculousness. The ugly truth is that religion is a very convenient way of controlling people. It works. It worked on me for 26 years.
However, now that I have fought my way to freedom, I can’t even stomach the idea of ever going back - and anything that even smells like a cage, has me running before I even know what I’m running from.
You see, I didn’t grow up going off on adventures by myself. I didn’t grow up dreaming about things that made me happy. I didn’t get to dream about what I wanted to do. I learned from an early age that my role would be a sacrificial role, caring for everyone else, striving with all my heart to please a very picky god. There was a part of me though, that no matter how hard I tried to beat it down, it would never quite disappear. Most of the time I could follow all the rules, and just focus on serving and working myself into the ground, but then sometimes this bizarre desire would rise up inside me. It felt confusing. No! I cannot want! I cannot dream! I cannot choose myself! I felt bad and dirty for even having this desire and I would double down harder to compensate for it. It must be Satan tempting me. I thought it was my enemy. Turns out it was just my own body begging for autonomy.
After 36 years of denying myself the freedom to choose, no wonder I felt so traumatized about my motorcycle breaking down. I may be 41 now, have 3 older children, 2 partners, a bunch of animals to care for, and a nonprofit that I am trying to build, but I still deserve to have autonomy. I may be 41, but I still have desires, dreams, and a wildness that cannot be tamed.
We may not understand why some situations trigger our trauma. I was so tempted to hate myself for my reaction but I decided that I was going to allow myself to feel however I felt. I have spent too much of my life beating myself up. I am exhausted. Amid an already shitty situation, self-loathing is the last thing I need.
Mental Health is not only important - it’s critical. We cannot embrace ourselves and live fully if we do not prioritize our mental health. Realizing our value is the first step to breaking free from toxic mindsets. It is impossible to love ourselves if we do not believe we are loveable. If no one has told you today, let me tell you now:
“You. Are. Fucking. Loveable.”
“You deserve to be free.”
“You deserve 100% autonomy.”
And to the recovering, scared part of me, this is what I say:
“You are beautiful. Life is hard, and sometimes things just go wrong for no good reason. Don’t let the fear shame you back into your cage. You are a goddam cheetah and you were meant to live wild. You will figure it out because you are fucking strong. You have survived some serious shit. You will beat this dang roadblock. I love you and I am so sorry for all the years you spent trapped. I will never let anyone do that to you again. I promise.”
There is no quick fix to pain - no fast track to healing. Life is hard and sometimes the troubles seem to never end. Not only did my motorcycle break down, but my youngest daughter had trouble with an unkind teacher in school, my oldest daughter got diagnosed with scoliosis, my son lost his job and place to stay in Utah, and Nate’s work vehicle gave up the ghost.
To say I’m discouraged is an understatement. My mom's heart is worn out. Overall, I am tired of humaning. Today, maybe even just for a day, I’d like to be a cow. Just a black-and-white cow nibbling on grass and swishing pesky flies. Then when I get tired of that, I can lay down and just chew my cud for a few hours. Who’s in? Does anyone want to join me out in the pasture?
All this talk of chewing cud is making me hungry. It’s time for me to head home for lunch. If you are having a difficult week, please know you are not alone. Sometimes we just have bad luck. There is no need for us to tie meaning to it or be frustrated if we get out of sorts. Life is complicated, confusing, and often downright crappy. Hang in there my love. We will make it to the other side. We are strong. We are brave. We are free.
The cow in me recognizes the cow in you.
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