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.

Raise Me

The first thing I had written in years, which I wrote in 2018, was a post about seeing you. Seeing the hurt in you and recognizing it. Understanding you and being with you through those moments when life is heavy.

Fast forward two years, and low-and-behold people are doing that for me today.

They see my racing mind at 5:30 am and raise me a phone call at 5:35. To me, not from me. Because they also seem to see that although I need support, I am not the best at asking for it.

They see my tension, my anxiety, and raise me a gentle hand, or even just their presence until I can breathe again. They remind me that I am not crazy, and what I feel is real and normal.

They see my path, and raise me the gift of experience, of having been here before. They don’t tell me what to do, they guide me until I reach my own conclusions.

They see my self-doubt and raise me their reassurance and reminders of what is factual, and what is feeling. They give me the ability to trust in them until I can remember to trust in myself.

They see me.

Every time I think they won’t, or think they’ve had enough, they see that too.

Maybe I’m not too much.

Maybe I am just enough.

They see me, the me that no one else sees, and they raise me still.

Human Jenga Tower

No, I don’t mean a pile of bodies moving around as if they are wooden rectangles carefully being removed and replaced one by one. I mean one body. One person, myself.

Upon awakening I gently slide a prayer sized puzzle piece to the right and hit my knees.  While I’m down there it’s not so tough. It’s the getting back up that is proving to be more difficult. As I place that piece up on top of my head my body already feels shakey.

Maybe today is the day it all comes crashing down, and after only one move.

No, we keep moving through the game. One small piece at a time. My next move is a tricky one.  It’s like when someone pulls just one of the blocks out, but not from the middle, from the end, so when you go to grab another one that tower has a real good chance of crumbling down. This is when I open the door as quietly as humanly possible, hoping for just five minutes of quiet time before someone is asking me for something. 

Bwahahahaha. 

Just kidding.  No such luck.  The sticking of my bedroom door, which I thought I fixed two months ago, wakes up my oldest.  Why is it that I can yell in my biggest voice for him to get his shoes on and he can’t hear me, but that damn door he can hear clear as a bell? 

As we walk out into the hallway I hear the baby stimming in his bed.  He is up. Of course he is.  He can’t sleep well either, except he doesn’t know to cry for me. That thought takes my breath away.  No time for that though.  Quickly I place this toddler shaped piece up on top the last one, and carefully we make our way down the stairs.

The tower is solid now, hardly wavering actually, while I’m dolling out the morning fruit, cereal, milk and TV shows. Usually they smile and laugh and kiss me. Usually they quickly remind me why I do not, have not, and cannot give up. They remind me that I have value.  If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were reaching over and straightening up my pieces just when I need it the most.  Not sure if that’s allowed as per the rule book, but that’s how this mama plays it.

I move throughout the day pulling out pieces here and there.  One for drop offs, one for work, one for the arrant anxiety attack in the middle of the day. Another one for pick-up, and dinner, and bed.

And another one still at they very end of the day. When they are all asleep, and I am back on my knees, saying thank you.  This is usually the last puzzle piece to move.  The tower is now seriously lacking support. Just one pinky brushing up against the wrong block and it’s all coming down.

We don’t have time for that.

No one wants to hear the roar of pieces scattering and shattering across the floor.

Most of all, I can never quite get the puzzle back into the box “just so”.

It’s been used.

Mangled.

Displaced.

 

 

 

Parent

I’ve never known what I wanted to be when I grew up. At least not in the typical sense. But for as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a mom.

In my wildest, most vivid dreams I could not have imagined this life I have today. There were days, years even, that I couldn’t see past my own two feet. Let alone clearly enough to care for a family.

While going through my own trauma, I had no idea I would one day need every ounce of that strength to help me see my children for who they are and what they need. It isn’t that I think our experiences are the same, but whatever it is that I need to be their mom, I have. I have it, because of my own journey, my own lessons.

This isn’t easy though. Not by a long shot. I’ve noticed though, that to be good at something does not have to mean it nessesarily comes easy to you. It is okay to struggle, because for me, that is where the growth is.

It is natural for me to think I know what is best, and that noone else could possibly provide it for them. That I alone can protect them and keep them safe. This is ego talking to an extent.

The reality of this parenting thing is that much like most other things, I can’t control what is going to happen to them. I can give them every last shred of what I have, and every pearl of wisdom I possess. It still might not be enough. They are still going to get hurt, fall, screw up and honestly, suffer.

I have to chose to believe that if my suffering was worth it, theirs will be too.

Someone Else

I feel like a waste of space that should be held by someone greater.

Someone less black and white.

Someone with fewer plans.

Someone that doesn’t push so hard.

Someone with less need for conversation beyond the mundane.

Someone that wants to party like a Rockstar.

Someone that doesn’t need emotional and physical fidelity.

Someone with less need for growth.

Someone who will bend more without breaking the illusion of happiness.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. But, It did.

I can’t control it, but I can grow through it.

Certainty

Every day is different.

Every hour, really.

At first I’m okay. Then, I overthink my day and become overwhelmed.

One day at a time. One hour. One minute. Much easier said than done when everything feels so uncertain.

So, what is certain?

Each day, I will wake up. I will because I have to.

I will take care of these children like my life depends on it. It does.

I will take care of myself, because right now that is one of the only things I can do. And I can do it well.

I’ve done it before. I will remember how, and I will do it again. No matter how unclear the future may be, that I can do.

He Saves Me

He saves me.

He saves me from myself when I am at my lowest.

When I can barely wake up, let alone do anything else.

He is there.

With his early morning, big- as-ever smile.

With his first little kiss of the day.

With his soft request for something eat.

Reminding me that I can’t quit. Not right now.

First I have to take care of him.

And today, that pulls me out of the dark just enough to get in the shower and get us both dressed and out the door.

He saved me today.

 

(Originally written 9-7-2018

Some People Will Change Our Lives Forever

I am still amazed at the ways my life has been affected by CMK. 

I just put in a bid on Elvis Costello and Bob Dylan Tickets, as they are coming to my town and I would like to see Costello.   I plan on taking the friend that has been joining me on my recent musical outings.  I will also be bringing my father and his girlfriend.  Funny thing is, I wouldnt have heard his music if it had not been for the hours CMK spent burning music for me one weekend.

It puts a smile on my face whenever I hear a song, or an artist that she turned me on to.  Because it is just a small symbol of what happened to my life when she entered it.

This is my time for exploration.  It is time for me to find the things that I am passionate about.  This the time in my life where I am spending so much time on the improvement of self, that I hope to have  little time to worry about what others are doing.

From time to time she still enters my mind.  But lately, she leaves it quickly as well.  That is progress.  I’m falling out of love, slowly.  I am slowly recognising that admiration is not in and of itself equal to love.

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