When You Choose the Wrong Dance Partner

I have a confession: Sometimes I dance with false narratives, anxiety, and fear.

The worst possible scenario is when I am caught up in this dance, unknowingly, and I suddenly get my children caught up in the same dance.

My daughter apparently likes pepper jack cheese and does not like slices of yellow cheddar cheese. I mean, pepper jack is my favorite too, but I’m also open to some variety. During the morning rush of getting everyone ready and packing lunches, she informed me that nobody has a “main” this week for lunch.

It was in that moment that my dance partner of anxiety and “not enough-ness”rose viciously to the surface with a vengeance.

I. Lost. It.

What do you mean you don’t have a “MAIN”??? There is bread and deli meat in the refrigerator that has not been touched. Apparently, without the proper cheese there cannot be a sandwich? And what about peanut butter and jelly?

I ranted.

People cried.

The people I love the most.

It really wasn’t about the cheese.

Perhaps on the surface my emotional response could be blamed on Time. Or, lack thereof. I do think that she mentioned the pepper jack cheese the day before. But when would I have had an opportunity to go buy said cheese? I worked all day long, then proceeded to run children back and forth from practices, frantically cooked supper, managed to sit down for a few moments together . . . then there was bed time and bath time . . . just to wake up and do it again! Pardon me, that I didn’t prioritize your pepper jack cheese!

But, it wasn’t about Time.

Perhaps my disproportionate emotional response could have been about Money. I don’t need to say much about this as we all know that grocery bills are through the roof these days and every little thing that needs to be purchased represents yet another dollar sign.

But, it wasn’t about Money.

Perhaps I lost it because of Entitlement. Honestly, entitlement of the young generation is something that can get almost any of us on a bit of a ranting rage sometimes. Never mind that my pantry is stocked with seven different types of chips and crackers and brownies and granola bars and applesauce. Forget that I cut up bell peppers and cucumbers, and that there are apples and blueberries and raspberries and bananas. Not to mention that I grew up on nasty Kraft singles!

But, it wasn’t about Entitlement.

It wasn’t about time, money, or entitlement.  And it certainly wasn’t about cheese. If it were simply about those things, I imagine I could have calmly explained that I wasn’t sure when I would be able to have time to go pick up the cheese. I would have had a brief teachable moment about patience and creativity and gratitude and then I would have proceeded to make other valuable suggestions and help make a sandwich of another kind.

My regretful morning reaction wasn’t about time, money, or entitlement.

You see, I had allowed myself to begin dancing with false narratives, fear, and anxiety - and I dragged my children into this ugly dance.

Fear. Fear of failure. And failure leads to being unloved and never quite enough. (This is a false narrative, by the way.)

I know, and my children know, that our relationship and the love between us is not about cheese. They know that I care about them even when I forget to buy uncrustables or pepper jack. This oversight does not mean that I don’t know them or that I’m a bad mom. Leaving a “main” off the grocery list does not impose a threat that they will withdraw or reject me. Our relationship is filled with love, understanding, and grace- in the little things and in the big things. Our home is one of joy and hope. We all work at it, together.

Anxiety. Anxiety of unrealistic or petty expectations being placed on me by myself or others, or both. Expectations that lack grace and understanding, content and context. Anxiety that not meeting expectations is a reflection of my character.

Anxiety that unmet expectations will lead to great loss.

False narratives.

Fear and anxiety and being unloved and not enough and living with expectations of perfection are all false narratives. Other false narratives tell me that I am not worthy and that I never will be.

Where do these false narratives come from and why do I choose them as my dance partner?

Sometimes these narratives are simply a result of my own natural disposition.

They can be due to cultural and religious conditioning that takes place over a lifetime.  Sometimes false narratives have been placed upon me through implied and direct shame. There are times when the situations of life seem to confirm my fear and anxiety.

I am unlearning the false narratives and I am learning to choose my dance partner with purpose and intentionality, consistently.

I have the opportunity to dance with a Great Someone and be caught up in a Dance with Something much larger than myself.

There is no fear in this Great Dance. The Dance Partner is safe and secure, full of grace and compassion. This Dance unites my soul with that which is much larger than myself.

I want to choose the Great Someone as my dance partner, the One who is beyond me and within me.

My heart hurts that my response got my children caught up in my ugly dance. Even after an immediate apology, my stomach was in knots all day until I was able to talk with my sweet children again. (By the way, it is at this point that we have to choose to give ourselves grace and forgiveness and start the song over again and choose a loving dance partner!)

I was able to have an open conversation with my beautiful children about my own mistakes and struggles. I hope that in sharing they learn from my mistakes and emotional responses and can also feel safe and free to express the whole gamut of their emotions.  My desire is for them to live without shame and fear and to know that they are accepted and loved, without condition.

My hope is that they will have a little less to unlearn and will more easily, quickly, and consciously choose the Dance Partner of grace and self worth. My prayer is that they will be caught up in the Dance with the Great Someone who leads them in a dance larger than themselves.

The song can always start over.

A new song is always ready to begin.

The dance floor is infinite.