I have SO MANY graphics saved on my phone, saved because they struck a chord with me, relative to my leaving, to my divorce, to how I was treated/ mistreated/ not treated …
As I go through them now, feeling “ready to tackle” some of them… I find that a lot of them say the same thing over and over. And…
I no longer feel the desire or need to post them.
Just now, I even started typing out a “reader’s digest version” … and then deleted it.
You know why? It doesn’t matter.
What matters is that I’m ready to move on. I started this blog before I left, and I never meant for it to turn into a diary. Or a bitching corner.
I don’t want to keep talking about it. I want to move on. I’m over it.
This was damn near the top reason I left. I flat out said, “I feel like I’m lowest on your totem pole. And I’m done.”
Words are just words. Actions, however, speak more than words ever can.
It doesn’t have to be grand. Hell, I’m not big on gifts, myself. Especially not over the top grandiose displays… umm, no. Not needed. Make my coffee for me. Bring me flowers – even cheap ones, or wildflowers from the side of the road. Do the dishes. Remember details, and USE them. I could go on and on. It seriously doesn’t need to be expensive, or even cost anything at all. The most important thing is that you make an effort. Go out of your way, even just a single step or two, to SHOW that you’re thinking of me & my happiness. Make me smile 😊
When you’re part of a family – your own family: significant other and kids – your life isn’t really your own. You can take all the ‘personal days’ and ‘self care time’ you want, but let’s be REAL – you live for them. Especially as a mother of young children, I can tell you: my life was not mine. Sure, I got to the gym 3 days each week (at 5am, cuz everyone was still sleeping) and ran 2 days each week (again, at 5am). Trying to get to bed at a decent hour to get up for 5am workouts was a struggle. The kids bedtime would run late. There would be more chores to do, lunches to prep, laundry to fold, etc. My husband would say, “Is it my turn (for you) now?”
*sigh
I did (get to) run with a group on Saturday mornings; that was the only time I didn’t “do my fitness” at the crack of dawn. And I was definitely expected back home as quickly as possible. If I took “too long”, I got questions. Doing an actual event was a big thing: I had to get a sitter, and I had to make sure there was food prepped/ planned, and again – I had to be home as soon as possible.
*sigh
Now I get every other weekend to myself. Along the way I’ve settled into a routine – on my Friday nights without kids, I DO NOT plan anything with anyone. Not at all. Sometimes I catch a yoga class, sometimes I get dinner by myself, most times I just sit home, sometimes I run errands… but I do all/ any of it with NO obligations to anyone. I refuse, plain and simple.
It one of the single most important things I have done for myself in the past 9 months.
The best part? I don’t offer any explanations either. I simply tell people that I take every other Friday night to myself, no exceptions. And that’s it. Most people are quite supportive, and it’s amazing. After living 10 years of accounting for my time, all the time, the freedom of this is… absolutely beautiful.
I remember when I was a freshman in college, living on campus. I was only 1.5 hours from home, but I remember laying in the grass outside my window one day – sun shining on my face – and it hit me: if I didn’t go to class, they weren’t going to call my parents. (I did go to class; I was one of those obnoxiously perfect students.) No one was keeping tabs on me. I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and there wasn’t anyone watching over my shoulder. It was … LIBERATING. It brings a smile even now, as I remember that feeling.
My every other Friday nights have become that same thing. Heck, my every other weekend is, really. Many times I don’t make any plans at all, and it’s perfection ☺
If I want to walk around naked, I walk around naked. If I want to listen to the same song over and over, I go ahead and listen. If I want to sing, I sing. If I want to crank the heat, up it goes. If I want to open the windows, my cats are happy 😊 I don’t have to explain. I don’t have to even rationalize it for myself – I just do what comes, as it comes. Some times I accomplish a lot, and other times I accomplish very little. If I don’t accomplish much, I make sure to not beat myself up about it 🙏🏻
This past weekend I spent some time creating a couple of mandalas out of flowers and other nature items I found in the backyard. I sat in the sunshine, bare feet in the grass, and just created. It felt amazing. At one point, I even bent down to smell the grass and just let my face sit in it for a while. I love when spring starts to really take off 😍 I did a tarot spread and played music on my phone. I meditated for a bit. At one point I thought to myself “I wonder if the neighbors can see” … and realized, I don’t care! They’re gonna have to get used to me doing weird things 🤣
In all that, I took my time. I didn’t care how long it took – it was important to me. That was Sunday. There were dishes to do at the time, and laundry to fold…. oh well. My productive day was Saturday: cleaned all the floors in the house. Phew! It felt just as good as being out in the yard – at the time, it was important to me. So I got it done 👍
Such is my life these days. I do what I want, when I want. Please don’t get me wrong – I take care of my kids, of course. And many times, what I want to do includes playing video games or nerf wars with my 8 year old, no matter how many chores are waiting. Sometimes I do tell him “not tonight” because I would like to relax or there’s just to many other things that really need my attention. It’s all about balance.
And about not just honoring myself, but putting myself *first – especially when the time is my own – for the first time in a very long time 😘
I’ve been in the aftermath of a relationship. Hell, let’s tell it like it is: I left a 10 year marriage. When such a relationship ends, there are scars – on both sides, from both people, both ways, some forgotten, some deep, some shallow… You have NO idea until there’s extended distance, what actually needs to heal.
Believe me.
What I never expected is the “other healing” that has started to happen as well. This goes beyond the past 10 years. This goes WAY back. I was beginning to get some inklings that it was time for such healing – the last time I felt such inklings was Dec ’18/Jan ’19, a couple months before my estranged mother contacted me – and then this graphic came to me.
holy. shit.
It like, legit, stopped me in my tracks. It has haunted me since, and I knew I had to not only write about it, but also not hide from it. I had to accept it, to let it dig down as deep as it freaking wants to, even if it blows me wide open and changes EVERYthing.
Ok, so…
My childhood was rough. My parents fought a lot. I don’t remember much. My brain blocked it out. That’s all I’m going to say about that. I’m the oldest, so I would usher my brother and sister away, try to shield them. I took care of them. I remember changing my sister’s diapers when I was 8 years old. By the time I was in high school, I was a go getter. Straight As. I wanted to get out of dodge – like, FAR out/ away. People would ask me what I wanted to be when I was older, and I would say I just wanted to be smart enough to go to a good college so that I could make a lot of money… truth is, I just wanted to make enough to move -and stay – away. I went to bed super early, got up super early, did my homework at 4am, then went to the gym and worked out before school. I was the classmate you hated, cuz it looked like I didn’t even try and I blew every curve there was.
It’s “how I was”.
As an adult, that transformed into never sitting still. I was either still in school getting straight As, or working a job and being a perfect homemaker. I got married, and divorced. Moved back home (!!), got pregnant. Still worked, was a good mom, still go go go…
It’s “how I was”.
Marriage #2: have another kid, buy a house. Finally finished a bachelor’s degree. Family of 5. I managed everything. Work full time, keep the house going, manage everyone’s calendars… work out, eat right, volunteer, cook, be the taxi… Super Mom, right?
It’s How I Was.
Even writing about it, I feel frantic. Get it done. Be perfect. I can feel the pressure. Do it all. Go go go. I like things tidy (personally), so I kept it all tidy. At least, I tried my best to keep it that way, in a house of 5. Tried to teach them good habits. Hockey Mom, Soccer Mom, PTO Mom, Band Mom… I ran, I did yoga, had a direct sales side business, earned promotions, vacations, built a team. Everyone really did call me Super Mom, over and over and over. It made me cringe.
I hated it.
I was tired, I was worn out. Like, DEEP down worn out. I wanted less, yet I didn’t know how to get there. I realized I was unhappy to the point of dying inside. So… I left.
I knew there were certain things from the relationship that I wanted to shed. Things that weren’t “me”. I found a peace I hadn’t felt in a long time, things were going well…
Then I fell and hit my head. Second concussion in 3 years. It forced me to slow wayyyyyy down. More than I had in… well, 3 years. Although this time I didn’t have a family of 5 to keep up with, so I actually slowed down even more than last time.
I started to realize… *deep breath
I started to realize that I actually LIKED moving slower. That I actually LIKED doing less. Like… REALLY liked it. That I had ZERO ambition to going back to “go go go”. I didn’t even want to work my side business -“eh” was about how I felt about that. I truly liked having an empty calendar. I enjoyed saying “no thanks” to requests for my time, or things to do. I even used the “I can’t, my head…” a bit more than I needed to. Everyone wanted me to rest, so I took advantage. I needed to learn how to stop myself from returning back to How I Was.
THEN I saw this graphic.
I realized, that’s not WHO I Was.
It’s how I over-functioned. That I had likely been over-functioning most of my damn life.
Which meant… *deep breath
Which meant I was free to rediscover who I truly was, and how I truly wanted to be.
~~~~
It’s now 3.5 weeks later. I started this post in the beginning of November, on a Friday night while sitting home alone and enjoying the quiet and letting my fingers fly, expressing my feelings. Since then I’ve been enjoying LIFE, settling even deeper into “the new me” … which I’m realizing is just ME, How I Am, and always have been, at my core. ❤
I’ve been shedding routines, thought processes, and habits. I’ve been examining EVERY little thing, every little decision, every little “this is how we do things” … cuz is it really how *I* like to do things?? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. The result is that I feel more authentically myself than just about EVER in my life, and it feels SO. DAMN. GOOD.
Part of me wants to say “watch out world, here I come…” and yet, most of me thinks, “eh, they don’t need to know about it anyways, cuz it’s my journey and I don’t need anyone to know or care, it’s not about them, it’s about me.”
I don’t even know how many times I’ve been through the cycle: meet new person, lots of excitement, the honeymoon phase, the settling… and then before I know it I’m being told that I’m “too much” of something or “not enough” of something else.
And it doesn’t just happen in relationships either. Work places, friendships, social gatherings… one moment I’m having a grand ol’ time… the next I’m feeling ashamed of who/how I am and telling myself to “tone it down” a notch. Or, in the worst cases, someone is actually literally saying that to me out loud.
I thought I was the problem.
No more.
I am not a problem. If I am “too much” for anyone, then so be it. They don’t have to enjoy my company. I enjoy my own company, and I am not too much for myself. If that means I spend my time alone, then I will have a grand ol’ time by myself, for myself, and with myself.
I’ve learned that there are others like me, who have been told they are “too much” as well. We feel ourselves growing, becoming better, becoming more. We discover our own magic. We are happy, we are excited. We are proud. We try to share that with others… and it’s usually the people we are closest to, that shame us the most. That hurts. Just when we think we will have to deny who we are, shrink to fit… we find each other. Others that are “too much.” We can bond, we can share. Sometimes, we are even “too much” for each other, in our own ways. Yet, at least we can acknowledge that, laugh about it, and enjoy being too much in a world that appreciates too little.
I’ve also learned that there are plenty of people out there that I am not Too Much for… some people can handle Too Much and not be intimidated. Some people can enjoy Too Much and not be overwhelmed. Some people adjust and learn to interact with Too Much in a way that tones Much down without feeling ashamed or wrong. Just like some people can handle Scovilles, some can handle Much.
Normal is a relative term. Don’t let yourself be contained by the experiences of others. Your experiences are your own, just like mine are my own. I’ve seen and done a lot. I enjoyed my “wild” times. They not only helped shape who I am, they ARE who I am. I’ve enjoyed being Much and living life to the fullest. I’m done being ashamed of that. I’m done fitting into a box. I will no longer worry about being “too much” for anyone.
I used to think there was something wrong with me. I used to think I was the problem.
It used to make me nervous. I couldn’t work in silence, I couldn’t sit in silence… nothing. I needed music, or conversation, something.
Music was always my go to. I’ve long said that I could live without TV, but could never live without music. I still feel that way … and yet less and less do I even feel the need for that.
Nowadays, I feel a peace I’ve never known before. Most times, I don’t even think of turning music on. I just sit quietly, enjoying my surroundings.
Sometimes I use the time to read or write. Most times, I just sit. THAT in itself is also a change… and enough for a different post entirely – we’ll get to that soon 😉
When was the last time you warmed up dinner for yourself at 10pm on a Friday night… standing completely naked in your kitchen, alone, enjoying the quiet?
I sit – just sit – outside, with my eyes closed. There’s the crickets, people talking nearby, a breeze, and the smell of campfires.
Looking up, the night is clear and I can see many stars. I’m torn between wanting to lay down and fall asleep peacefully, leisurely… and wanting to stay up enjoying the night.
I’m normally more of a sunrise girl, yet the night & stars beckon me regardless. The crickets whisper their sweet nothings and invite me to stay awake late.
Just a few mornings ago, I woke at my usual early hour and went for a walk. The sun hadn’t risen yet, so I could still see the stars. You could tell the sun would come soon, as the eastern sky was just starting to lighten. It was the best of both worlds: stars + sunrise.
I found a grassy field, and laid down in the middle of it. The wet grass surrounded me as I gazed at the constellations. The morning was still & silent… absolute bliss. I breathed deep, allowing myself to soak it all in.
I realized my hands were in the grass; massaging the earth as if drawing power from it. It’s not uncommon for me pull grass as I sit in the yard… yet this time I wasn’t pulling. It was all still there, intact, just a bit disturbed from my fingers. It felt & looked amazingly beautiful, especially knowing I had done that in the heat of the moment, soaking up that life force.
I turned my head to the side, and realized the finest mist of dew drops was coating each and every blade of grass. It was at eye level, and it was magical. I stared at the tiny droplets, wanting to reach out and touch them, yet not wanting to harm them. Smiling, I reveled in the simplicity of it all… and then very gingerly got up, and returned home.
I have had many other moments of feeling completely at peace in nature; beaches, forests, trails, even in the sky (parasailing). Trails are my favorite. Wait… beaches. Trails. Beaches. Goodness, so tough to choose! I’m going to have to find a place with both 😁
No matter where, barefoot is best. Actually, no – completely nude in nature is the *absolute best. Rare… and so very worth it. But yes, in normal day to day situations, barefoot is the way to be – it grounds me and refreshes the memories I have of times spent in nature… again, soaking up that life force.
I will use it to grow, stronger than ever before. I feel it, gaining momentum. More and more I’m able to enjoy moments in nature, and every time brings new life and new strength to this wave of renewal.
The one with rediculously high standards. The one that could FEEL clutter, and claimed it was noisy to my aura. Believe me, saying that out loud will get you some weird looks.
My Love Language = Acts of Service. The only one in my house. Realizing that helped ME make (a lot of) sense of things… however, it doesn’t really help or do anything if THEY don’t realize what that means.
For a long time I’ve said, “I’m hard to live with.” That’s what I thought, based on how they felt and what they said. Based on the feedback given – whether on purpose or just naturally observed.
Outside the house, things were different. People said I’m a supermom; strong, independent, and hard working. I would diffuse that with, “Ya but you have no idea – I’m really difficult to live with.”
I thought I was the crazy one. Had to be, right? I was different. The cause, the issue.
And then I left.
I’ve started to realize…
Honestly, I don’t think I’m ready to write this post yet. This is still a very tender subject, and I fear that if I proceed, it will turn into a pity party; accusatory and full of blame. I definitely don’t want that. So, I’m not going to save it… I’m publishing this as is. Leave it as evidence that this is a topic I’m working on – diving deep, swimming in the ugly parts for a bit, until ready to surface again.
Who knows – by then I may have grown a mermaid tail to go with my long hair 😉
I saved this picture to my phone on November 22nd, 2019…. and told myself that 2020 was going to be an amazing year.
UMMMM…. #sigh.
It started with me cowering in my house, curled up in a ball anywhere that I could. Depressed, lethargic, sad, lonely, unmotivated, you name it… probably the worst seasonal depression I’ve had since my freshman year in college. I’d manage to make it to work, and the kids got fed. I dragged myself out to run with my friends every Saturday, and that was the only physical activity I got. (I normally run 3x/week & go to gym 3x/week, if that tells you anything.) Other than that, I fought a constant urge to just go lay down in bed. My body literally wanted to hibernate, and my brain didn’t want to stop it.
There were weeks that I didn’t even want to go run. Forget it, what’s the point, I would think. Yet I knew that they wouldn’t ask questions, wouldn’t give me funny looks, wouldn’t give me shit for not keeping up or needing to walk. They would let me talk, or let me listen. No matter what, they were just “there” for me, and it felt nice to be able to be down in the dumps and not feel bad about it. At the very least, the fresh air usually felt pretty good, and for once I could enjoy the scenery. (I usually hate winter.)
All this, knowing that I was headed on a kick-ass trip in March: Jamaica, for a week. At least the graphic got that part right: I got to go on the adventure of a lifetime. Jamaica. was. AMAZING. #daydream
Coming home from it was not.
In Jamaica, I *did connect with good people and I *did learn new positive things. Thank goodness … cuz the rest of this year hasn’t been quite what the picture advertised.
I STILL have continued to connect with good people – I have to keep that in the forefront of my mind. For everything that has cancelled this year, there has been an opportunity to appreciate the smallest things in its place. My closest circles of friends have continued to gather, to stay connected in whatever way possible.
Those running friends of mine, for instance? We still ran… spaced apart, and drinking our own coffee from home that we brought along, shivering in parking lots afterwards… just to keep some semblance of normal. For us, running kept us sane.
My closest girlfriends got on Zoom calls, just to see n hear each other. Then we’d leave goody baskets for each other on porches, waving from inside the door as they were picked up. Nowadays we do meet up for dinner and drinks here n there, finding whatever place we can that doesn’t require masks… or simple hanging out in our driveways.
NOW…. Here’s what that graphic got 💯 right, and in SPADES even: “And grow strong.”
Fuck.
I’ve been strong my whole damn life. To me, it’s pretty much my norm. But this year? This year turned me into a snivelling hot mess, crying more times in a week than I had in 3 months, wondering WHY?!? over and over again, til I had no more tears and knew I was done cried out.
And what do you do when you’re cried out? You get up, and you keep going.
#nevergiveup was one of my mottos even before this messed up laughing stock of a year went sideways and left all wondering W.T.F?? For a bit there I faltered – both in the seasonal depression and in the covi-thatshallnotbenamed. I was a yoyo-rollercoaster: working from home, working in the office, homeschooling kids, giving up on kids, dragging kids across the finish line of the school year… happy one hour n crying the next. Desperately trying to do as well as others, and also not caring at all if I had my stuff together, cuz overall stuff was just MESSED. UP. Finally… I re-gained my composure and re-established my center.
Now… #nevergiveup is more than a motto. It’s my lifeblood. It serves as a reminder, not only of what I’ve been through (recently, and my entire life), but also of inspiration … and motivation to BE an inspiration for others. Somewhere along the way, my life became a beacon. I didn’t want it to… and yet, I was told time and time again that it was. That *I was. So if I can drag myself up, over and over, and #nevergiveup … so can others. Even if it takes ME telling THEM they CAN, – as many times as necessary. Therefore, that “motto” of “mine” will come to adorn my body in some way, in the near future… but only after I get several other tattoos that are not only longer overdue, but also even more meaningful.
If there’s one thing I’ve gained even more than strength in this crazy buckle-your-seatbelt year, it has been grace.
Grace for my kids. For myself. For others. Grace in a way I never knew before, in both negative and positive ways, in ways I never even imagined. Did we do good enough? As a family, as people, as loved ones trying to not tear each other apart, while holding our own cracked and crumbling pieces…? Pfft, yes, we did good enough. But not “just” good enough. We did DAMN good.
I bonded with my kids. Even as we argued over what homework was done and what wasn’t, we shared more time than we had in years. Ate more meals together. I learned more about them and how they tick. All that helped me give them even more grace than I already was – turns out I really wasn’t giving them much. NOW, I really do. Now, we understand each other better.
Now, we are all stronger, and more graceful. So even though we did get those other things – adventure, connection, learning new positive things – it most DEFINITELY did not come quite as advertised. It is also far from over… So, we will grow even more… and, we will be a-ok. ❤️
EPILOGUE
I ordered this bracelet in Sept of 2019. It’s the “2nd generation” of it… the 1st, which said only GRACE, was in memory of my late grandmother. I started wearing that one at the very end of 2018, as my “word of the year ” for 2019. When my aunt (her daughter) passed away in Aug 2019, I sent it along with her to the other side. It took several weeks before I was emotionally strong enough to order its replacement. This time, I went with Strength & Grace … never knowing just how important those things would be in times ahead. The bracelet itself is labradorite beads: labradorite is a very powerful crystal of transformation (I own several of them). As I wrote this post, I realized how truly important Strength & Grace have come to be for me, and couldn’t help but realize the (not so much) coincidence of the bracelet that I wear… every. day.
My grandmother stays very close to me at all times – some days it tangibly feels like she’s sitting on my shoulder – and even though I really don’t need a bracelet to make me realize that… it sure does help. Very soon I won’t “need” the bracelet (damn skippy I’ll still wear it though!) as GRACE will become a permanent part of my body… and that, will have to be its own post 😉
