the playground effect

since i became a mom, i have loved exploring playgrounds and parks. i often wonder if i am more excited than my children when we stumble upon a park we have not yet played at. nature, imaginations and laughter seem be the perfect formula. there’s something magical that happens at these places: strangers become friends. for me, the park bench has housed countless heartfelt conversations with other parents, caught many tears and witnessed immense joy. being real is my passion and my mission. i truly believe it’s the only way to build genuine community and friendships. glennon says it so well:

“we’re not often permitted to tell the truth in everyday life. there is a small set of words and reactions and pleasantries we are allowed to say, like, “i’m fine, and you?” but we are not supposed to say much of anything else, especially how we are really doing. we find out early that telling the whole truth makes people uncomfortable and is certainly not ladylike or likely to make us popular, so we learn to lie sweetly so that we can be loved. and when we figure out this system, we are split in two: the public self, who says the right things in order to belong, and the secret self, who thinks other things. at one point i got so sick of listening to myself drone on to other women about little league and countertops and how fine i was, that i decided to kill my public self. the truth is that i am very rarely fine. i am usually so far behind fine that i couldn’t find fine with binoculars. or so far past fine that i expect the birds to notice my superhuman joy and start speaking to me…i told (husband) i was going to start introducing my secret self to other moms at the playground and the mall. the introduction would sound something like this: “hi i’m glennon. i’m a recovering, well, everything, and most recently i’ve been struggling with isolation and intimacy with my husband and i’ve also been getting quite angry with my kids for no reason. i feel awful about these things. but yoga is helping. also deep breaths and baths. how are you?”” (from carry on, warrior by glennon melton)