PLEASER

If a situation brings me to shaking tears in a matter of moments chances are I’m missing a boundary somewhere in there.

Fact: I am going through a ton of stuff right now.

Our whole lives are changing. Good, Bad, and indifferent. But Change is hard no matter what the motives. And change with children is exponentially more difficult.

Fact: I have a lot of fabulous, healthy support.

For others to believe I am “enough”, just as is, it’s out of this world. These people are helping me in ways I wouldn’t have believed I deserved. They guide, but do not make decisions for me. They don’t tell me mine are wrong either. The thing is, I think they believe in me. I’m not just some F*** up to them.

Fact: I have a terrible habit of people pleasing.

If you tell me I’m doing something wrong, my first instinct is to believe you. And next, my head spins with hatred of myself for not seeing something, for missing a “T” or an “I” on the list. It never crosses my mind until too late, that you could be wrong.

Time

Time is reminiscent of water.

An ever rolling and flowing river.

Rapid, rough and risky on one hand, and yet slow, steady and smooth on the other.

We can’t easily hold it in our hands. Maybe for a short while, but inevitably it begins to gradually seep through our fingers, drop by drop, trickling down our wrists to our elbows until finally falling back to the earth. There is little-to-nothing we can do to stop it.

It can gently wash over our wounds and soften the edges of our pain, until we are ready to let go of it. This current simultaneously carries away the sting of the venom left behind by our predators. Much in the way we skip those impossibly polished stones from the shore with all our might to see how far away we can banish them.

Just like this fickle stream, time if spent wisely, can be the lifeblood of our souls. Conversely, if squandered for too long in dank darkness, can carry with it a soul sickness the likes of which nothing short of total surrender will scrub clean.

Intolerable

What do you allow?

Are there things that drive you crazy, make you blood boil or your skin crawl, but you stay silent?

I am finding that it’s more difficult for me to speak up than to tolerate things that make me uncomfortable.

In a way it seems that I’m used to being uncomfortable, one way or another; so why make waves?

If I’m going to be inconvenienced either way, at least I don’t have to hurt you, or worse, give you a reason to be mad at me.

God, my need to be liked and loved overshadows all of my other needs. I know it isn’t healthy and yet I allow you to blur my lines just to keep the peace.

To correct this would take hard conversations for me. That says something because I don’t often have a problem talking.

The thing is, I will lose something no matter which route I take. The tough part is putting my feelings above yours. It’s getting sick and tired of being uncomfortable.

Luckily for me, I’m growing. In this growth I’m learning to do hard things. Sometimes it just takes me a while to gather up the courage.

Unluckily for you, I’m no longer willing to be a doormat, security blanket, or worse, your mama…

Perfection

I am far from perfect, I know that.

What is not as easy to acquiesce though, is that I do not have to be perfect.

Day in and day out my mind is telling me that if I don’t complete each item on the to-do-list with impeccability, I am nothing. Zero. Might as well go back to bed and not show my face today at all.

Not worth the air I breathe.

I make it to the bottom of the stairs and realize I forgot to pray:

“Well wow, what a piece of shit. When are you ever going to get this right?”

Didn’t set the coffee pot up last night:

“Seriously, it takes one minute to do, get it together!”

Not to work by 8am on-the-dot:

“It’s just two kids, plenty of women do plenty more, there is no excuse.”

You had also better believe that I am not asking for help along the way. That is the ultimate sign of weakness. If you see me as needing help then I’m not picture perfect, and again, who the hell am I.

I am worthless.

I don’t need help, what are you going to do? Something that I can very well do for myself? Why? I just can’t wrap my brain around that concept. If I’m not doing it all then you will think that I can’t, and you will know I am really nothing.

If I am not perfectly poised in polished perfection, then what and who am I?

I am unexceptional.

I am just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill human being.

Why is that so hard?

Wouldn’t it be easier to just relinquish control of it all?

If I were to let go, it will look like I dropped it.

We just can’t have that.

Or can we?

 

I did not do endings.

I was “Ride or die”, to a fault.

I did not do fear.

I was “Never Let Go”, for fear of the unknown.

I did not do self-care.

I was “I’ll get to it later”, until there was no more time.

I did not do alone time.

I was “Please don’t leave me”, so that I didn’t have to be with myself.

There was a lot that I didn’t do.  There were so many fears in my heart, soul, and mind that I was almost paralyzed into standing still. Please don’t be fooled; the past tense here seems to imply I feel fearless today.  That is quite distant from the truth.

Today, I feel the fear. Frankly, I’m terrified but I acknowledge it.  I don’t run from it or try to hide from it anymore.  I don’t purposefully act in any way just to avoid feeling fear.

Here, on the eve of an ending, the precipice of fear and alone-time, I choose to take care of myself.

I choose to do different.

 

The Grey

Right or wrong; good or bad; up or down; black or white.

These things are easy for us to digest.

That area in-between is where we get lost.

I’m in the Grey right now. Trudging through.

I’ve got a line thrown down and tied to the dock, but I’m drifting.

Besides, I’m not the one griping the other end of the rope so, let’s hope it holds.

This blind faith, this completely insane trust, is how we are supposed to find our way through the Grey, to a better understanding of it maybe.

In this manner, we can learn how to live in the middle, steering clear of the extremes.

For me, I only became willing to tolerate the Grey when the pain and anguish of living in black-and-white became truly unbearable.

Self-Care

Do you hate the question as much as I do?


“So, what are you doing for you?”

I get it, I do. But what self-care looks like to one person is not what it looks like for the next.

It is okay to not have time for some classic form of this thing. For me, I don’t need one more thing to feel like I’m doing wrong.

Self-care can look like singing at the top of your lungs to the steering wheel.

Self-care can look like helping a friend.

Self-care can look like deep breathing while lying with your children as they fall asleep.

Self-care can look like peacefully cleaning, or folding laundry.

Heck, self-care can look like typing out your rambling thoughts for the world to see.

You get the idea.

You do you, and leave the rest for the crows.

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up

I wonder what else I could have been?

We all do that right? Run all of those “what if’s” through our brains?

I have no idea what I could have been. I do know that whomever I am today is exactly who I am meant to be in this very moment. I don’t actually want to be or do more. Right now I am and have enough.

It took me a few months recently to get myself to believe that it is okay that I am happy with my life, even if and when others are not.

Tough doodoo really, because it’s my life now.

I built this life with a whole hell of a lot of blood, sweat and tears. I could never have woken up one day and decided it was no longer the life I wanted.

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