So this is a dirty laundry post. You know, the kind where you have one of those guilt ridden days because you did something you weren't so proud of? Yeah. Dirty laundry day.
Allow me to set the scene for you. This morning, Cole's alarm went off (5:30 am). It does this every morning, except on weekends, and it almost always pulls me out of a very deep, dreamy sleep. Well, Jack gets up at 6, so there's not much me time in the morning. I try to pull my bed-headed self together so I can function in the role of mother, but sometimes it just doesn't work.
Some mornings I feel like breaking things.
Flash forward to 8 am, time for Jack to go to school. The morning went well, considering. Breakfast was alright, I didn't look too homeless walking out the door (I actually brushed my hair) and James resembled something of a well taken care of child. We get to the school, and Jack informs me that his water bottle is in the lunch room. My response? Go get it.
"But mom, class is starting, you go get it!"
No.
Some little button got pushed. Something happened. Something broke. I may have heard the snap, I don't really know. The next thing I knew, I had Jack thrown over my shoulder (in front of the entire school, Jack's teacher, and the principal), and I was marching his sassy little behind to the lunchroom to get the water bottle. The entire time, Jack was screaming. I felt like a she hulk; eight months pregnant, toting a 50 pound sack of solidness to the lunch room.
When I put Jack down, I said, "Go get your water bottle." He cried, and yelled that he didn't want to, and pointed to where he had left it. I just pointed in return, much like the ominous ghost from Christmas past. No words, stoic face, finger pointing in water bottle direction.
Jack flopped on the ground, and continued to throw a fit.
(PS? The #&%@ water bottle was like TEN feet away!!!)
Long story short, Jack may or may not have gotten pushed in the right direction, he may or may not have face planted in the process, and after many crocodile tears he may or may not have been late to class.
I'll neither confirm nor deny what happened.
The point is, he is 5. He is 5, and he threw a tantrum over a bottle of water.
The point is, I am 27. I am 27 and I threw a fit over my 5 year old throwing a tantrum over a bottle of water.
The point is, there is no point. Sometimes life just dazes you over, and you move forward like a hulk, with some kind of baggage thrown over your shoulder. All the while the world is staring at you thinking, "What in the world?..." Some days it really is just about surviving. Breathing, focusing on what you can focus on and hoping the rest of the day somehow works itself out.
Other days are clearer.
You can enjoy the clarity of those days.
That clarity helps you march your way through the blurry times.
You know, the ones where you throw a tantrum like a toddler then sleep it off.
We've all done it.
Well, at least I'll admit to it.
Here's to a clearer day tomorrow.
And maybe my kids will actually decide to sleep in.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
An Open Letter to God
Dear God,
I've written to you before, both physically and "mentally" if you will. I have a confession to make. I'm just a little frustrated. I'm not frustrated with life per se, and I'm not angry by any means, life is what it is, and I have come to understand in greater lengths what it means to "build your own destiny." Forge your own path, align yourself with the universe, etc etc.
We talk a lot about free will down here. I have these decisions I can make. I make them, then there are consequences, whether good or bad, and that's that. I've been taught, and I do indeed still believe, that you have a certain path you want me to follow. An intrinsic one. It's taken me quite a few years to understand the whole follow your heart phrase. "Be who you are meant to be, climb that ladder and do what you are meant to do." Or, so I hear you say sometimes.
Well, here's the deal. My heart, this thing that beats inside my chest. It is my life force, physically. Sometimes my heart leads me one way, a way I feel you pulling me, a way I feel you pushing me even, and yet? Well, there are other voices, voices that claim you are telling them something that is the opposite of what I feel. So who's right? We are, all of us, prone to weakness in almost every way possible. We are, all of us, given an inner moral compass that leads us, and guides our paths, and helps us attain this invisible potential.
I look to you in everything, and in every way. I often think to myself, how can I go wrong if I am always doing what this inner moral compass of mine is directing me to do? How indeed. You see, this world? This world so full of different religions, and black and white areas, and that ever elusive "moderate" zone? That grey area. The one everyone tells me I can't, for the sake of humanity, stay in. We cannot, period, be in the grey zone. There is good, and there is bad. Period.
We cannot hold the white, and the black.
But my heart.
The heart you gave me, the one I give to you in every way I know how.
Is there not good, and truth, and wonder in almost EVERYTHING in this life?
Why can't the grey zone exist? Why can't there be good, and truth, and wonder in everything?
Why?
Was that your idea?
I don't feel like it was. Or is. At least, that's what my heart tells me. And you're in there, aren't you? You're in there just like you are in everything else in this life. You're in the wind as it blows through the trees. You're in the sand under my feet. You are my life force.
You are in me.
You are everywhere.
So aren't you in that grey zone?
Does the God I understand hold true to the God other people feel, and hear, or see?
I'm just tired. I'm tired of all those voices telling me what, or how, or why I should believe or not believe. I understand that tools, and knowledge, are necessary. We can't understand the whole unless we have all the parts. I don't claim to have all the parts, nor do I claim to comprehend the end result. All I know is what I know, what I've learned, and how I've learned it. Others are given different paths to come to the same end as me.
Who am I to judge how they get there if they don't judge how I get there?
We are, all of us, in the grey zone in one way or another.
I don't know if there is a solution. I guess I just needed to vent to you. Maybe other people feel the same way I do, and maybe they don't. I know many on both sides. It's a difficult thing being labeled a "fence sitter." Fence sitters belong nowhere, and everywhere, all at once.
I'm coming to grips with it.
And I'll keep following that inner compass of mine, wherever it may lead.
Just stay with me, okay?
As long as I know you are in my heart, I will know that what I am doing, and who I am becoming is exactly as it should be.
Regardless of what other people think.
Love, Jess
I've written to you before, both physically and "mentally" if you will. I have a confession to make. I'm just a little frustrated. I'm not frustrated with life per se, and I'm not angry by any means, life is what it is, and I have come to understand in greater lengths what it means to "build your own destiny." Forge your own path, align yourself with the universe, etc etc.
We talk a lot about free will down here. I have these decisions I can make. I make them, then there are consequences, whether good or bad, and that's that. I've been taught, and I do indeed still believe, that you have a certain path you want me to follow. An intrinsic one. It's taken me quite a few years to understand the whole follow your heart phrase. "Be who you are meant to be, climb that ladder and do what you are meant to do." Or, so I hear you say sometimes.
Well, here's the deal. My heart, this thing that beats inside my chest. It is my life force, physically. Sometimes my heart leads me one way, a way I feel you pulling me, a way I feel you pushing me even, and yet? Well, there are other voices, voices that claim you are telling them something that is the opposite of what I feel. So who's right? We are, all of us, prone to weakness in almost every way possible. We are, all of us, given an inner moral compass that leads us, and guides our paths, and helps us attain this invisible potential.
I look to you in everything, and in every way. I often think to myself, how can I go wrong if I am always doing what this inner moral compass of mine is directing me to do? How indeed. You see, this world? This world so full of different religions, and black and white areas, and that ever elusive "moderate" zone? That grey area. The one everyone tells me I can't, for the sake of humanity, stay in. We cannot, period, be in the grey zone. There is good, and there is bad. Period.
We cannot hold the white, and the black.
But my heart.
The heart you gave me, the one I give to you in every way I know how.
Is there not good, and truth, and wonder in almost EVERYTHING in this life?
Why can't the grey zone exist? Why can't there be good, and truth, and wonder in everything?
Why?
Was that your idea?
I don't feel like it was. Or is. At least, that's what my heart tells me. And you're in there, aren't you? You're in there just like you are in everything else in this life. You're in the wind as it blows through the trees. You're in the sand under my feet. You are my life force.
You are in me.
You are everywhere.
So aren't you in that grey zone?
Does the God I understand hold true to the God other people feel, and hear, or see?
I'm just tired. I'm tired of all those voices telling me what, or how, or why I should believe or not believe. I understand that tools, and knowledge, are necessary. We can't understand the whole unless we have all the parts. I don't claim to have all the parts, nor do I claim to comprehend the end result. All I know is what I know, what I've learned, and how I've learned it. Others are given different paths to come to the same end as me.
Who am I to judge how they get there if they don't judge how I get there?
We are, all of us, in the grey zone in one way or another.
I don't know if there is a solution. I guess I just needed to vent to you. Maybe other people feel the same way I do, and maybe they don't. I know many on both sides. It's a difficult thing being labeled a "fence sitter." Fence sitters belong nowhere, and everywhere, all at once.
I'm coming to grips with it.
And I'll keep following that inner compass of mine, wherever it may lead.
Just stay with me, okay?
As long as I know you are in my heart, I will know that what I am doing, and who I am becoming is exactly as it should be.
Regardless of what other people think.
Love, Jess
Monday, January 12, 2015
The Creepy Mom
So last night I sat in my sons room and watched them sleep. I did, I just sat there and stared at them. I watched their little chests rise and fall, and I listened to Jack snore. I thought about this other little guy, the one waiting to come, and then I thought, "Oh man. Three boys. What has Cole gotten me into."
(I know it's not Cole's fault; I like to tease him about it anyway.)
Well, this morning my mom sent me a message asking me how I was doing. I said I felt fat. Between the physical limitations with this pregnancy, and the holidays, I do, I feel fat. She responded, "You're not fat! You're pregnant! Enjoy it since this is your last time." Oh. I'm enjoying it. Hence why I feel fat. I didn't say I WAS fat, though the weight gain is clearly obvious (as is the belly). I simply said I FELT that way.
Back to last night. Last night while I was staring at my boys sleeping I thought, "This is endearing. And creepy. I'm kind of a creepy mom." I'm not creepy in a hauntingly, terrifying, or spooky sense. Although, I am sure had my sons woken up while I was watching them they may have argued otherwise. I, for one, have a mild panic attack when I wake up to find a face staring at me in the middle of the night.
It's a harmless face, usually.
One that says something like, "Mom, I need a drink."
Or "Mom, James threw up in the bed."
No, I'm more of a "let me see how uncomfortable I can make you right now" creepy.
I make them clean their rooms. Soooo creepy. I make them help with chores. They are 5 and 2. It's rude; I'm a jerk. I also make them clean up their pee when they miss the toilet. I am in charge of their waste when it is in a diaper, not after. Balance of power, you see. They get agitated about it, but who's the boss? Creepy mom.
Creepy mom makes them eat what's for dinner; eat it or go to bed. Creepy mom gives them hardly any candy. Don't go all progressive parent on me, they get goodies, I'm not the devil.
(C'mon, I'm the bakery queen. They get treats, trust me.)
We play outside, we don't play video games all the time. I play with them, but I also make them use their imagination.
Creepy mom needs to do her own creepy things sometimes.
Why do I do these things? Well, back to the pregnancy deal. I feel like it. I am a big follower of how I feel. I think about it, research it if I can, I "mull it over," then I let my heart lead. And if I don't know how I feel about something? That's when meditation or a lot of "oh $#!& that wasn't the best option" moments come into play.
With my kids? I follow my heart, and my gut, and my head. I follow this intrinsic path because no one knows my kids like I know them. They hold half of me, and I know myself relatively well. Therefore? I know at least half of them.
God made it that way.
Google can't decide what's best for a child it doesn't know.
Momma knows best. Period.
Sometimes I think we forget that. Sometimes I think we forget how gifted we really are, especially when it comes to the life we've been given. For me? It's motherhood. If I really take the time to actually TAKE the time and try what I think is best, it's usually what's right.
My heart doesn't lie to me.
I just need to stop being too afraid to follow it.
As for my kids? Well, with their learning curves and tantrums, their growing pains, their aha moments, and any owie, sickness or heartache they might experience, I will be there.
I may not always know what's best, but I will always know what to do if I am quiet enough to listen.
I'm supposed to give them what they need to be the best they can be, but I can't make them into something they're not. I myself am constantly growing, and so will they.
So I'm a creepy mom.
One day?
One day I hope my boys will be creepy dads.
But if they're not I know they will do exactly what they were meant to do.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
(I know it's not Cole's fault; I like to tease him about it anyway.)
Well, this morning my mom sent me a message asking me how I was doing. I said I felt fat. Between the physical limitations with this pregnancy, and the holidays, I do, I feel fat. She responded, "You're not fat! You're pregnant! Enjoy it since this is your last time." Oh. I'm enjoying it. Hence why I feel fat. I didn't say I WAS fat, though the weight gain is clearly obvious (as is the belly). I simply said I FELT that way.
Back to last night. Last night while I was staring at my boys sleeping I thought, "This is endearing. And creepy. I'm kind of a creepy mom." I'm not creepy in a hauntingly, terrifying, or spooky sense. Although, I am sure had my sons woken up while I was watching them they may have argued otherwise. I, for one, have a mild panic attack when I wake up to find a face staring at me in the middle of the night.
It's a harmless face, usually.
One that says something like, "Mom, I need a drink."
Or "Mom, James threw up in the bed."
No, I'm more of a "let me see how uncomfortable I can make you right now" creepy.
I make them clean their rooms. Soooo creepy. I make them help with chores. They are 5 and 2. It's rude; I'm a jerk. I also make them clean up their pee when they miss the toilet. I am in charge of their waste when it is in a diaper, not after. Balance of power, you see. They get agitated about it, but who's the boss? Creepy mom.
Creepy mom makes them eat what's for dinner; eat it or go to bed. Creepy mom gives them hardly any candy. Don't go all progressive parent on me, they get goodies, I'm not the devil.
(C'mon, I'm the bakery queen. They get treats, trust me.)
We play outside, we don't play video games all the time. I play with them, but I also make them use their imagination.
Creepy mom needs to do her own creepy things sometimes.
Why do I do these things? Well, back to the pregnancy deal. I feel like it. I am a big follower of how I feel. I think about it, research it if I can, I "mull it over," then I let my heart lead. And if I don't know how I feel about something? That's when meditation or a lot of "oh $#!& that wasn't the best option" moments come into play.
With my kids? I follow my heart, and my gut, and my head. I follow this intrinsic path because no one knows my kids like I know them. They hold half of me, and I know myself relatively well. Therefore? I know at least half of them.
God made it that way.
Google can't decide what's best for a child it doesn't know.
Momma knows best. Period.
Sometimes I think we forget that. Sometimes I think we forget how gifted we really are, especially when it comes to the life we've been given. For me? It's motherhood. If I really take the time to actually TAKE the time and try what I think is best, it's usually what's right.
My heart doesn't lie to me.
I just need to stop being too afraid to follow it.
As for my kids? Well, with their learning curves and tantrums, their growing pains, their aha moments, and any owie, sickness or heartache they might experience, I will be there.
I may not always know what's best, but I will always know what to do if I am quiet enough to listen.
I'm supposed to give them what they need to be the best they can be, but I can't make them into something they're not. I myself am constantly growing, and so will they.
So I'm a creepy mom.
One day?
One day I hope my boys will be creepy dads.
But if they're not I know they will do exactly what they were meant to do.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Monday, January 5, 2015
Small Enough
Sometimes life makes me feel very small. The feeling of being small doesn't necessarily have anything to do with my physical stature, but more my mental, emotional or spiritual state of being. This last month there have been some experiences. I won't go into detail, but I will say that these experiences have left me looking for deeper meaning.
They've left me with more understanding eyes, and a softer heart.
Sometimes life has a way of forcing you to realize that being small is really what matters. Quotes concerning the "small things" are ever prevalent, particularly since the new year has commenced and everyone is setting new goals, and reaching for dreams again. Reaching, stretching, and bringing ourselves to the brink of a greater good is always, well, good.
But in our quest to stretch ourselves to greater lengths, we sometimes become blind to the small things.
Tiny details make a difference when we step back and see the bigger picture.
In my life, those small things are, quite literally, little. It's very easy to let life distract us from what's important, and life had been doing just that a couple months ago. I was distracted, and I was distracted by a lot of things.
In truth, they didn't really matter.
In truth, they didn't really matter.
They mattered, yes, but compared to other things they didn't matter nearly as much.
We all want to inspire others; we all want to inspire ourselves. We all want to become something greater, or better, than we are now. We all usually have good intentions, and as we inspire ourselves, or others, we either become more focused on truth, or completely lost in what we think is truth.
Living requires balance. We cannot stand focused if we are leaning too much towards the future, backwards in the past, or looking from side to side imagining what it could be like to travel the path of another.
Life is the master of distraction, and the teacher of truth.
It's up to us to focus; it's up to us to quiet our minds enough to really listen to what life is trying to teach.
What we get from life depends wholly on how we choose to learn from it.
My small things are front and center now. It's not much to the eyes of many others, but when I get down on my knees and play with the hot wheels, or I sit for over an hour pretending to be the purple monster, my small moments become monumental.
Whatever the present provides, or however it happens to be presenting itself, is the only thing I can control. This moment, this now, this is what I have complete control over. I will continue to reach, and stretch, and dance, and sing with life. I will still make goals, and desire dreams.
I will still look forward to tomorrow.
But moderation matters.
Today, and hopefully every day, I intend to be small enough.
Small enough to truly hear.
Small enough to better see, and small enough to understand the bigger picture.
Sometimes, life makes me feel very small.
And that isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Ready Now
I was driving home from work just now, and I was listening to the radio. (Old fashioned, I get it, most people plug in whatever electronic device they can to avoid commercials.) Anyway, we live in a small town, and as such, the "seek" button really just bounces around between like 5 stations. As it was "searching" for that perfect song for me to sing along with, I pulled into our parking lot, and parked. Just as I was turning the car off, one line came out of those speakers.
"Lord, I'm ready now."
The engine stopped, the words stuck, and I happened to look at the steering wheel.
The words "coast set" for the cruise control on the car then etched themselves into my mind just as the song had.
I didn't turn the car back on to actually hear the song, but I did just sit in the cold for a moment. I started thinking about that "coast set" button, and the single line from whatever song happened to be on the radio echoed in my mind over, and over, and over again.
"Lord, I'm ready now."
Coast set.
I started thinking about life, and how often I talk to God in my own way. I don't always pray, nor do I really emphasize any religious aspect of my life. I just live, and in living, I talk to God. I think about Him, I think about the natural order, or logical rightness, of things. Sometimes things make sense, and other times they don't. Sometimes I accept what I cannot change, and other times I bull forward until what I feel is right finds its place in my heart.
Coast set.
Then there are those moments that I forget I am even driving. I get into a lane, stop focusing on everything around me, and set my cruise. I forget about it all, and what really needs focus is suddenly front and center. "Lord I'm ready now." Coast set.
Now I can't say that everyone sees strange or personal signs in everything they do in life. Some people say we find what we search for. Some people search for deeper meaning in their life in many different ways. I don't believe any one way is right, and another wrong. In my mind, as long as you are simply searching for greater purpose, and in turn a greater self awareness in your life, then you are doing everything right. My life happens to incorporate God. Everywhere. In everything.
But my statement to God is usually more phrased as a question. Lord, am I ready now? Am I focusing too much on my speed, or my destination, or even (and maybe especially) the people around me? Do I give in to road rage, and anger more often than I should in my hurry to rush through the day to day, thus forgetting the time I have to coast along? Not coast in a lazy, idle, sense, but coast in the sense of ease as I move through whatever challenges, or blessings, life happens to give me.
Do I trust enough?
Do I give enough?
Am I enough?
The song, and my steering wheel button, were both a small but gentle reminder from my everywhere God. Life can be messy, and that's okay. His advice should be sought, and that's okay. He wants me near, He wants you near. But He also wants us to move. He wants us to go.
He wants us to stop asking, sometimes.
Lord, am I ready? Don't just ask, do. Move. Go.
Declare it with confidence, and zeal, then grab onto your life and cruise.
I'm ready now.
Coast set.
"Lord, I'm ready now."
The engine stopped, the words stuck, and I happened to look at the steering wheel.
The words "coast set" for the cruise control on the car then etched themselves into my mind just as the song had.
I didn't turn the car back on to actually hear the song, but I did just sit in the cold for a moment. I started thinking about that "coast set" button, and the single line from whatever song happened to be on the radio echoed in my mind over, and over, and over again.
"Lord, I'm ready now."
Coast set.
I started thinking about life, and how often I talk to God in my own way. I don't always pray, nor do I really emphasize any religious aspect of my life. I just live, and in living, I talk to God. I think about Him, I think about the natural order, or logical rightness, of things. Sometimes things make sense, and other times they don't. Sometimes I accept what I cannot change, and other times I bull forward until what I feel is right finds its place in my heart.
Coast set.
Then there are those moments that I forget I am even driving. I get into a lane, stop focusing on everything around me, and set my cruise. I forget about it all, and what really needs focus is suddenly front and center. "Lord I'm ready now." Coast set.
Now I can't say that everyone sees strange or personal signs in everything they do in life. Some people say we find what we search for. Some people search for deeper meaning in their life in many different ways. I don't believe any one way is right, and another wrong. In my mind, as long as you are simply searching for greater purpose, and in turn a greater self awareness in your life, then you are doing everything right. My life happens to incorporate God. Everywhere. In everything.
But my statement to God is usually more phrased as a question. Lord, am I ready now? Am I focusing too much on my speed, or my destination, or even (and maybe especially) the people around me? Do I give in to road rage, and anger more often than I should in my hurry to rush through the day to day, thus forgetting the time I have to coast along? Not coast in a lazy, idle, sense, but coast in the sense of ease as I move through whatever challenges, or blessings, life happens to give me.
Do I trust enough?
Do I give enough?
Am I enough?
The song, and my steering wheel button, were both a small but gentle reminder from my everywhere God. Life can be messy, and that's okay. His advice should be sought, and that's okay. He wants me near, He wants you near. But He also wants us to move. He wants us to go.
He wants us to stop asking, sometimes.
Lord, am I ready? Don't just ask, do. Move. Go.
Declare it with confidence, and zeal, then grab onto your life and cruise.
I'm ready now.
Coast set.
Friday, October 24, 2014
Just Cry
Sometimes I am just not a strong person. Sometimes, I can't see through the fog of a bad day. A bad week. A bad month. Sometimes? Sometimes any regret I have ever had consumes my dreams. Sometimes? Sometimes I just want to lay down, curl up, and cry.
Have you ever found yourself in this cycle of life where you go around, and around, and around, and life changes, you even change, but a very small part of your heart just remains broken? Just broken. Many know my past; many even know my past mistakes. We all have them. We all have these regrets, these horrible decisions we wish we could just take back. We have all hurt people, sometimes seemingly unforgivably, and we've all (usually) found ways to mend what could be mended then moved forward with hope for a brighter future.
Time has taught me something about regret. Sometimes? Sometimes it never leaves. We forgive, we are forgiven, but this tiny ache tends to carry itself within that broken part of our heart without any kind of outlet. It sneaks up without warning, and in the strangest of circumstances. We think, "That was so long ago! Why is it still bothering me?!" Well, sometimes? Sometimes it bothers you, sometimes it bothers me, to remind us that we are indeed broken.
We are broken, and that's okay.
Now, I am a spiritual person, so before you go Christian on me, trust me, I've done all that. Also, therapy. Don't go there either. But I've had an epiphany tonight. An epiphany about this regret; this ache. It may never fully heal. It may never go away. When I think about the people I hurt? Good, wonderful, people. When I think about the things that happened? It's emotionally, and excruciatingly, suffocating. Sometimes, I have to stop, and sit. Sometimes I think about picking up the phone and saying I'm sorry all over again. But then I remember where they are in life; they've moved on. And truthfully? So have I.
Even with growth, the pain of the past will never fully leave. On the road we travel, we often find ourselves looking back and wondering how we might have made the journey smoother. Then we look forward and wonder what mountains lay ahead. The truth of the past lies in who we've become because of it. Have we changed? Have we grown? Have we removed the toxic negativity of broken dreams, shattered hearts, and unfulfilled wishes? Where we are now matters more than where we have been, but where we have been led us to where we are now.
Don't be ashamed of it.
Don't hide from it.
Embrace it.
And remember?
When that little ache finds its way into your thoughts, and you find yourself wondering how you could have been better?
Just cry.
And be better now.
Have you ever found yourself in this cycle of life where you go around, and around, and around, and life changes, you even change, but a very small part of your heart just remains broken? Just broken. Many know my past; many even know my past mistakes. We all have them. We all have these regrets, these horrible decisions we wish we could just take back. We have all hurt people, sometimes seemingly unforgivably, and we've all (usually) found ways to mend what could be mended then moved forward with hope for a brighter future.
Time has taught me something about regret. Sometimes? Sometimes it never leaves. We forgive, we are forgiven, but this tiny ache tends to carry itself within that broken part of our heart without any kind of outlet. It sneaks up without warning, and in the strangest of circumstances. We think, "That was so long ago! Why is it still bothering me?!" Well, sometimes? Sometimes it bothers you, sometimes it bothers me, to remind us that we are indeed broken.
We are broken, and that's okay.
Now, I am a spiritual person, so before you go Christian on me, trust me, I've done all that. Also, therapy. Don't go there either. But I've had an epiphany tonight. An epiphany about this regret; this ache. It may never fully heal. It may never go away. When I think about the people I hurt? Good, wonderful, people. When I think about the things that happened? It's emotionally, and excruciatingly, suffocating. Sometimes, I have to stop, and sit. Sometimes I think about picking up the phone and saying I'm sorry all over again. But then I remember where they are in life; they've moved on. And truthfully? So have I.
Even with growth, the pain of the past will never fully leave. On the road we travel, we often find ourselves looking back and wondering how we might have made the journey smoother. Then we look forward and wonder what mountains lay ahead. The truth of the past lies in who we've become because of it. Have we changed? Have we grown? Have we removed the toxic negativity of broken dreams, shattered hearts, and unfulfilled wishes? Where we are now matters more than where we have been, but where we have been led us to where we are now.
Don't be ashamed of it.
Don't hide from it.
Embrace it.
And remember?
When that little ache finds its way into your thoughts, and you find yourself wondering how you could have been better?
Just cry.
And be better now.
Friday, October 10, 2014
It's Your Soul
So we live in a new place. It's a beautiful place. But? Believe it or not, I am shy. I am. And? Getting to know "new moms" is akin to dating. How should I look? What kind of first impression am I giving? Do I really care what they think? Sort of. Maybe a little. Not a lot, but some.
Seriously. Dating.
In fact, today when I dropped Jack off at school I had on no makeup (let's face it, that's a daily deal) and I wasn't wearing a bra. Yup. No bra. No makeup. I guess I really am a "granola cruncher." Now I just need a Subaru.
Anyway, getting to know people has been a slow process. I kind of hide in a little shell until you really get to know me. I think a lot of people do it, I am sure I am not the only one. Needless to say I guess I come off as a bit "come offish." I have gotten to know this one really neat lady, though. Her name is Sarah. We've talked a few times, but nothing in depth. She did tell me though that she is an artist. As she was describing her art, she began to tear up, and said, "Sometimes it's hard to let yourself out there like that. You open yourself up, and people can rip you apart."
Well, this weekend is the "art weekend" here in Moab. I asked her today if she was going to be showing any of her art. She replied quietly, "I don't know. Maybe."
I responded,
"Don't be afraid of what other people think. Just remember, it's your soul. Not theirs."
It's your soul. It's my soul. As I was driving home, I thought about it more. It's my soul, not theirs. Like Sarah, I often get shy when it comes to any talent I feel I might have. I also get shy about who I am. Today for example, with this post. I am putting it out for anyone in the world to judge. They may hate it, they may like it, I may never know which. But? Shouldn't I just do it anyway?
Shouldn't I exemplify who I am inside by simply being me? Whoever I decide that me should be on any given day?
It's my soul. Not theirs.
We live in a world that is so annoyingly loud sometimes it becomes very difficult to hear anything other than the tantrums of others. It is in moments like today; moments. I see the world around me. I really look at my own life, and I remember who I am deep down. Sometimes I am a bra-less, make-up-less, granola cruncher that wouldn't mind sitting under waterfalls, singing along with a band of hippies. Other days I feel more grounded as I sit with my sons and remember my pride in the role of mother, and my stay at home status.
I am me, and I am many different variations at many different times.
And? That's okay.
Be proud of who you are, and share it with the world around you. You are not talent-less, nor are you required to fit any other mold than the one God created for you. You are you. And that?
That is a beautiful thing.
It's your soul. Not theirs.
Seriously. Dating.
In fact, today when I dropped Jack off at school I had on no makeup (let's face it, that's a daily deal) and I wasn't wearing a bra. Yup. No bra. No makeup. I guess I really am a "granola cruncher." Now I just need a Subaru.
Anyway, getting to know people has been a slow process. I kind of hide in a little shell until you really get to know me. I think a lot of people do it, I am sure I am not the only one. Needless to say I guess I come off as a bit "come offish." I have gotten to know this one really neat lady, though. Her name is Sarah. We've talked a few times, but nothing in depth. She did tell me though that she is an artist. As she was describing her art, she began to tear up, and said, "Sometimes it's hard to let yourself out there like that. You open yourself up, and people can rip you apart."
Well, this weekend is the "art weekend" here in Moab. I asked her today if she was going to be showing any of her art. She replied quietly, "I don't know. Maybe."
I responded,
"Don't be afraid of what other people think. Just remember, it's your soul. Not theirs."
It's your soul. It's my soul. As I was driving home, I thought about it more. It's my soul, not theirs. Like Sarah, I often get shy when it comes to any talent I feel I might have. I also get shy about who I am. Today for example, with this post. I am putting it out for anyone in the world to judge. They may hate it, they may like it, I may never know which. But? Shouldn't I just do it anyway?
Shouldn't I exemplify who I am inside by simply being me? Whoever I decide that me should be on any given day?
It's my soul. Not theirs.
We live in a world that is so annoyingly loud sometimes it becomes very difficult to hear anything other than the tantrums of others. It is in moments like today; moments. I see the world around me. I really look at my own life, and I remember who I am deep down. Sometimes I am a bra-less, make-up-less, granola cruncher that wouldn't mind sitting under waterfalls, singing along with a band of hippies. Other days I feel more grounded as I sit with my sons and remember my pride in the role of mother, and my stay at home status.
I am me, and I am many different variations at many different times.
And? That's okay.
Be proud of who you are, and share it with the world around you. You are not talent-less, nor are you required to fit any other mold than the one God created for you. You are you. And that?
That is a beautiful thing.
It's your soul. Not theirs.
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