Leaving Independence Alone

Words by Carlene Fraser. Image by Hannah Valentine

Jaded. That’s the word that defined me last year. I’m tainted - a terminal sceptic. I’m a mother, multitasker and complicated wreck. I want to be bathed in 20th-century courteousness but I openly curse my vulnerabilities away. I thrive on my independence and yet codependency is a palpable desire of mine. That emotional and psychological longing to render myself open to be harassed and harmed with the hope of unbounded love and support from the people I admire. Yup…a wreck!

With a bird’s eye view, an independent person strikes a powerful image; from a distance, there’s freedom and strength in independence. But in reality, there isn’t. After 8 years of marriage and juggling the mother-act along with one too many other adventures, I have learned that independence is a farce. You heard me. Rubbish! Independence hasn’t been my power but a wound I’ve been salving far longer than I should have been.

At a meditation class in a dim New York City basement some years ago, I heard the most enlightening phrase: “Faith and doubt cannot exist in the same mind at the same time, for one will dispel the other.” Since then I have been using this sentence construction to roughly address my other major conflicts; appreciation versus scepticism, healing versus marring, wholeness versus aloneness. I wanted a support system but my cape kept pulling me back, and the superhero I saw in myself was tired. It wasn’t until I did some long-overdue self-reflection that I realised my feminist, powerhouse act was just fear dressed in a fancy business suit.

Now hear me out, feminism is a very necessary element in the still patriarchal leanings of our global society, of this I am sure. But my thwarted understanding of independence stole away opportunities to build interdependent relationships and support circles; to have laughter and hugs and photos worthy of picture collages above my sofa. I blame New York and its feverish fanaticism of the “girl on fire” idealism: does it all, has it all, helps all, but needs nothing; a place that stroked my ego and whispered phantom promises of becoming my own goddess. Fast forward 6 years, 3 continents, 2 children 1 career shift, and of course my overdue self-reflection, and I’ve surmised that my independence was ego and arrogance slow-cooked to a stovetop reduction of despair. 

Here’s a handful of tools I’ve used to gain perspective:

• Embrace the part of you that feels needy sometimes. Because lets be honest, it does happen. Own it!

• Try saying, “I can receive.” From a neighbour from an acquaintance, a mum-friend, without the fear of reproach or condescension or any of the negative connections we so often attach to receiving. 

• Assess your networks and take better notice of how supported you actually are most of the time. Your spouse, your siblings, your child’s school teacher, even your yoga instructor. They all contribute to your greater good. And you to theirs. Yay, interdependence!

• Now, this one was my hardest but most effective shift: accepting help even when you’re not in need. Asking for assistance invites the service and love of others in ways we could not otherwise access. Give someone the opportunity to be your friend and be charitable, that in itself is a gift. 

“You may be self-sufficient but you’re far from self-contained.” This revelation has been a goldmine in my marriage and other relationships, training my ego into more positive, peaceable thinking. What a revelation it was to accept that my lack of notable financial contribution did not detract from my immeasurable contributions to my family.  That I cannot always serve but need to be willing to be served as well.  

Now do as I do: toss out that cape, arms outstretched and with a warm smile, say yes to some kindness. And dust that pesky scepticism of your heel. 

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A native New Yorker, Carlene is being happily wooed by life in London. She left the legal profession to pursue her once closeted passion for writing while conquering the daily scrimmages of 21st century parenthood. Mother of 2, wife, writer, development editor and youth mentor; Carlene thrives on these parts of her individuality that keeps her heavily engaged and constantly...sometimes unwillingly...learning.

She is currently completing a 2nd graduate degree, centring her dissertation on immigration and assimilation and how the culture of “the other” has been long rooted into our western world.

A sappy Netflix binge or game night with close friends is her perfect Saturday night.

Check her out at Spinell1085@wordpress.com or @SpinelliNY on Twitter.

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