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PERFECTION IS A LIE…AND OTHER WISDOM FROM AN INSPIRATIONAL BARRE3 INSTRUCTOR AND CANCER SURVIVOR
Joy, fulfillment, pride. Guilt, shame, uncertainty. Motherhood is a complex, nuanced mix of a vast range of emotions, and yet somehow, it can feel uncomfortable—unacceptable, even—to express anything that so much as veers toward the negative end of the spectrum.
This month, we’re celebrating motherhood for everything it is—the joys, challenges, and all the messy, surprising, incredible moments in between—with our Let’s Talk Motherhood series. Over the next four weeks, members of the barre3 community will share their experience of motherhood with us, answering questions that skip the small talk and get right to the issues.
Today, Dannie Nicholson, an instructor at barre3 Eagle, talks with us about being the mother of three boys, valuing health, and how being seven years in remission from metastatic breast cancer inspires her intentional approach to living. No matter where you are in your journey, there’s wisdom to be found in all of Dannie’s words.
I’m the mama of…
Samuel, Wyatt, and Sawyer
Before I became a mother, I thought motherhood was…
Going to be something that would make me whole, make me loved, make me who I was meant to be.
And while all of those things are true, to an extent, I’ve realized that motherhood has pushed me right to my breaking point, right to the edge of where exhaustion and insanity meet.
It’s pushed me right to the tippy top of loving someone so much you think your heart will explode, or just break. It’s in the pieces, the act of falling apart and having to put someone new, stronger, softer, fuller, and grounded back together, that I realized all of those things weren’t things my children could ever give to me. It was always mine to give to myself. But being a mom has made me the best version of myself, without question.
My favorite part of being a mom is…
Seeing who my children are becoming. It’s so hard when they are babies to see all that you are pouring into them is meaningful. As a mother of all boys—all about two years apart—there were times when I wondered “what have I done? They are little gremlins and they are trying to destroy me!” I’m only half kidding. Babies are HARD.
Those days of exhaustion and frustration are not so far behind me that I don’t remember not even knowing who I was or what I wanted—except 14 hours of sleep and a buffet breakfast where I didn’t have to cook it or do the dishes!
But, now that my two oldest are teenagers, I’m getting to have really meaningful conversations, seeing their personalities, wit, and humor come out. It’s gratifying to know I was a part of shaping them, but also mystifying that they are so much their own. Seeing how they are “turning out” is amazing, fun, fulfilling, and the best reward ever for all those times I said “You’re in time-out!” repeatedly.
As a cancer survivor, I’m especially thankful to get to simply be here for it all. I’m seven years in remission, but there was a time when I wasn’t sure if I would ever see these days. It’s gives me perspective.
The hardest thing about being a mom is….
You know, I just want to go to the bathroom by myself. And it doesn’t matter how old they are. They ALWAYS know when you go to the bathroom, and suddenly they need something. It never changes.
But seriously, I think that touches on a part of what I’m getting at, and that is that it’s just so hard being physically and emotionally needed ALL. THE. TIME. When they were little, I’d spend the entire day with a kid on my hip, one in my belly, and one trying to break free from my hand to run into the parking lot. It was a lot of a lot. By the end of the day, I remember just not wanting to be touched at all! And, let’s be honest, that doesn’t bode well for the husband.
But kids grow up, all of that passes, and now I have the space I need to move, breathe, and tend to myself. Things don’t get easier per se, they just change.
Now the difficult things are sophomore math, dating, acne, and teen angst. The emotions these days span the gamut, from “Wow, they are such amazing young men!” to “Oh, I really must have messed them up!” That swing is hard. And here’s the big one….Not feeling like my job is done as their mom, and knowing that there’s a chance my cancer will come back like it did for all the women on my father’s side is SUPER HARD for me. Knowing that they still need me and there’s a very real possibility I won’t always be here for them is pretty much the hardest thing ever.
The thing I miss most about my life before motherhood is…
Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Obviously, you don’t sleep when they are babies, but you don’t sleep when they are teens either! You stay up wondering if they need a ride, if they are safe, if they are making good choices, if they remembered deodorant. I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again.
My philosophy on motherhood is…
If you just love—love them, love your community, love yourself, love life, love connecting with people, love helping people—they will be OK.
You are teaching them the most important thing ever when you show them how to love in a healthy way and how to do that for themselves. And while that may seem all warm and fuzzy, it can translate into some tough lessons that aren’t fun or easy parts of parenting. Loving yourself enough to set boundaries, loving them enough to have standards and work ethic and character and integrity are hard but simple.
When I can carve out time for myself, I…
Run or take a barre3 class. Both fulfill me in different ways, but essentially it boils down to mental time with myself, in my own head, no intruders.
While I might seem like an extrovert, the time I spend alone, refilling my cup, finding calm in my breath, pushing myself and moving my body with freedom is what keeps me sane.
And everyone in my life knows it! If I get crazy, they just tell me to go work out! The people who love me know this is important, and they know it’s non-negotiable. And it’s been an important part of parenting for me. I want my kids to know that carving out time for exercise isn’t just about physical health; it’s about tending to your mental health as well. It’s big pharma, it’s my sleeping pill, my anti-anxiety med, my antidepressant, and my happy pill all in one.
Having had cancer factors into a lot of how I live my life these days. Women who exercise and stay lean have a much lower recurrence rate for metastatic breast cancer. I make time for myself in this way not just so that I can be here in the long term, but be more fully present and the very best version of myself here and now.
Motherhood has changed my feelings about…
Myself. For sure! Oh and everything else too! Seriously, there’s not a thing that hasn’t changed about me since I became a mother. And knowing that I’ll always be changing, as my children grow, as I grow, is what the journey is about. I used to grapple a lot with trying to define myself, what I believed, defending it fiercely, and being immovable. These days, I know that when we stop growing and changing, we stop living. It’s OK to change. The goal in all of this is to grow. It doesn’t just stop when you become an adult.
I would tell mothers-to-be…
I would tell them to chill the EFF out! The younger me took things WAY too seriously. Things had to be perfect, look perfect, seem perfect.
But nothing is ever really ever perfect. Perfection is a lie. I wasted a lot of time wondering what people thought of me, comparing myself, and even comparing my kids to others. I thought if I made everything look perfect, it would make everything OK.
But the reality of it is that we are not perfect, our kids are not perfect, our families are not perfect—and that’s OK! It’s in the imperfections, the real and authentic, trying, difficult, heart-wrenching moments that we become the best version of ourselves. That’s when we become the people who can help others through their trials—trials and challenges that no one would know about if we all went around with a fake-but-perfect facade. When you can exemplify this for your kids, they learn that being authentic is the only way to happiness, and that being perfect will not be the thing that makes them happy in life.
I hope my kids remember me as…
Strong, in every sense of the word. I want them to see me and have taken note of all of the times when someone told me I couldn’t, and then I did. I want them to see that I’ve fought for my life, and I do it every single day with even the small choices I make.
I want them to remember that I made the most of my health, that I took care of my body and my mind, and that being strong and healthy is really the only wealth we will ever have.
I want them to remember that I was more than OK with my imperfections—I’m thankful for them!—and that it’s actually been my imperfections that have made me an amazing person. Having been born with what others might call a disability has just pushed me to show that I can do anything anyone else can do, and then some! Any limitations I have are ones I’ve put on myself, not because of a disability. When things seem insurmountable, that’s when you dig in and go hard.
Joy, fulfillment, pride. Guilt, shame, uncertainty. Motherhood is a complex, nuanced mix of a vast range of emotions, and yet somehow, it can feel uncomfortable—unacceptable, even—to express anything that so much as veers toward the negative end of the spectrum.
This month, we’re celebrating motherhood for everything it is—the joys, challenges, and all the messy, surprising, incredible moments in between—with our Let’s Talk Motherhood series. Over the next four weeks, members of the barre3 community will share their experience of motherhood with us, answering questions that skip the small talk and get right to the issues.
Today, Dannie Nicholson, an instructor at barre3 Eagle, talks with us about being the mother of three boys, valuing health, and how being seven years in remission from metastatic breast cancer inspires her intentional approach to living. No matter where you are in your journey, there’s wisdom to be found in all of Dannie’s words.
I’m the mama of…
Samuel, Wyatt, and Sawyer
Before I became a mother, I thought motherhood was…
Going to be something that would make me whole, make me loved, make me who I was meant to be.
And while all of those things are true, to an extent, I’ve realized that motherhood has pushed me right to my breaking point, right to the edge of where exhaustion and insanity meet.
It’s pushed me right to the tippy top of loving someone so much you think your heart will explode, or just break. It’s in the pieces, the act of falling apart and having to put someone new, stronger, softer, fuller, and grounded back together, that I realized all of those things weren’t things my children could ever give to me. It was always mine to give to myself. But being a mom has made me the best version of myself, without question.
My favorite part of being a mom is…
Seeing who my children are becoming. It’s so hard when they are babies to see all that you are pouring into them is meaningful. As a mother of all boys—all about two years apart—there were times when I wondered “what have I done? They are little gremlins and they are trying to destroy me!” I’m only half kidding. Babies are HARD.
Those days of exhaustion and frustration are not so far behind me that I don’t remember not even knowing who I was or what I wanted—except 14 hours of sleep and a buffet breakfast where I didn’t have to cook it or do the dishes!
But, now that my two oldest are teenagers, I’m getting to have really meaningful conversations, seeing their personalities, wit, and humor come out. It’s gratifying to know I was a part of shaping them, but also mystifying that they are so much their own. Seeing how they are “turning out” is amazing, fun, fulfilling, and the best reward ever for all those times I said “You’re in time-out!” repeatedly.
As a cancer survivor, I’m especially thankful to get to simply be here for it all. I’m seven years in remission, but there was a time when I wasn’t sure if I would ever see these days. It’s gives me perspective.
The hardest thing about being a mom is….
You know, I just want to go to the bathroom by myself. And it doesn’t matter how old they are. They ALWAYS know when you go to the bathroom, and suddenly they need something. It never changes.
But seriously, I think that touches on a part of what I’m getting at, and that is that it’s just so hard being physically and emotionally needed ALL. THE. TIME. When they were little, I’d spend the entire day with a kid on my hip, one in my belly, and one trying to break free from my hand to run into the parking lot. It was a lot of a lot. By the end of the day, I remember just not wanting to be touched at all! And, let’s be honest, that doesn’t bode well for the husband.
But kids grow up, all of that passes, and now I have the space I need to move, breathe, and tend to myself. Things don’t get easier per se, they just change.
Now the difficult things are sophomore math, dating, acne, and teen angst. The emotions these days span the gamut, from “Wow, they are such amazing young men!” to “Oh, I really must have messed them up!” That swing is hard. And here’s the big one….Not feeling like my job is done as their mom, and knowing that there’s a chance my cancer will come back like it did for all the women on my father’s side is SUPER HARD for me. Knowing that they still need me and there’s a very real possibility I won’t always be here for them is pretty much the hardest thing ever.
The thing I miss most about my life before motherhood is…
Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Obviously, you don’t sleep when they are babies, but you don’t sleep when they are teens either! You stay up wondering if they need a ride, if they are safe, if they are making good choices, if they remembered deodorant. I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again.
My philosophy on motherhood is…
If you just love—love them, love your community, love yourself, love life, love connecting with people, love helping people—they will be OK.
You are teaching them the most important thing ever when you show them how to love in a healthy way and how to do that for themselves. And while that may seem all warm and fuzzy, it can translate into some tough lessons that aren’t fun or easy parts of parenting. Loving yourself enough to set boundaries, loving them enough to have standards and work ethic and character and integrity are hard but simple.
When I can carve out time for myself, I…
Run or take a barre3 class. Both fulfill me in different ways, but essentially it boils down to mental time with myself, in my own head, no intruders.
While I might seem like an extrovert, the time I spend alone, refilling my cup, finding calm in my breath, pushing myself and moving my body with freedom is what keeps me sane.
And everyone in my life knows it! If I get crazy, they just tell me to go work out! The people who love me know this is important, and they know it’s non-negotiable. And it’s been an important part of parenting for me. I want my kids to know that carving out time for exercise isn’t just about physical health; it’s about tending to your mental health as well. It’s big pharma, it’s my sleeping pill, my anti-anxiety med, my antidepressant, and my happy pill all in one.
Having had cancer factors into a lot of how I live my life these days. Women who exercise and stay lean have a much lower recurrence rate for metastatic breast cancer. I make time for myself in this way not just so that I can be here in the long term, but be more fully present and the very best version of myself here and now.
Motherhood has changed my feelings about…
Myself. For sure! Oh and everything else too! Seriously, there’s not a thing that hasn’t changed about me since I became a mother. And knowing that I’ll always be changing, as my children grow, as I grow, is what the journey is about. I used to grapple a lot with trying to define myself, what I believed, defending it fiercely, and being immovable. These days, I know that when we stop growing and changing, we stop living. It’s OK to change. The goal in all of this is to grow. It doesn’t just stop when you become an adult.
I would tell mothers-to-be…
I would tell them to chill the EFF out! The younger me took things WAY too seriously. Things had to be perfect, look perfect, seem perfect.
But nothing is ever really ever perfect. Perfection is a lie. I wasted a lot of time wondering what people thought of me, comparing myself, and even comparing my kids to others. I thought if I made everything look perfect, it would make everything OK.
But the reality of it is that we are not perfect, our kids are not perfect, our families are not perfect—and that’s OK! It’s in the imperfections, the real and authentic, trying, difficult, heart-wrenching moments that we become the best version of ourselves. That’s when we become the people who can help others through their trials—trials and challenges that no one would know about if we all went around with a fake-but-perfect facade. When you can exemplify this for your kids, they learn that being authentic is the only way to happiness, and that being perfect will not be the thing that makes them happy in life.
I hope my kids remember me as…
Strong, in every sense of the word. I want them to see me and have taken note of all of the times when someone told me I couldn’t, and then I did. I want them to see that I’ve fought for my life, and I do it every single day with even the small choices I make.
I want them to remember that I made the most of my health, that I took care of my body and my mind, and that being strong and healthy is really the only wealth we will ever have.
I want them to remember that I was more than OK with my imperfections—I’m thankful for them!—and that it’s actually been my imperfections that have made me an amazing person. Having been born with what others might call a disability has just pushed me to show that I can do anything anyone else can do, and then some! Any limitations I have are ones I’ve put on myself, not because of a disability. When things seem insurmountable, that’s when you dig in and go hard.
