I’ve always loved people watching. I could sit and watch people for hours…watching children play…watching moms chasing after their children…watching friends…lovers…and everyone in between. As someone who’s never really felt like I fully fit, I LOVED watching the way other people fit together.
And, let me tell you, if you’ve never people watched in a train station? THAT is the best people watching you’ll ever do. In one place, you see every part of life. You see the anxious person running late for an appointment. You see the lovers reunited after a weekend apart. You see friends excitedly waiting to depart on an adventure together. You see sad goodbyes and joyful hellos. It’s all there. The good, the bad…the beautiful and the sad.
And I love it. lol
Lately, I feel like my life is that train station. I’m at this point…I don’t know exactly where I’m going…I don’t know which train to get on…I don’t know who wants to be on the trip with me…and I don’t know who I’ll be watching board a train that I can’t get on. So…I just…watch.
I watch new friendships blooming.
I watch old relationships dwindling away.
I watch reunions and departures.
I watch tears of joy…tears of laughter…tears of loss…and tears of fear.
I watch trains departing for lands unknown and I watch the passengers react with an air of adventure…or an air of trepidation…sometimes somewhere in the middle.
But I don’t get on the train with them.
And…for once…I’m not anxious about this feeling of not belonging. I have a few people I belong with. The ones that are departing the station without me…maybe they’ll come back through the station one day…maybe they won’t. If they don’t, I hope their adventures were everything they ever dreamed of. If they do, I’ll be holding the sign for the car service for them to come back home.
Because it’s ok. It’s ok to go through these periods where you don’t know your place…where you may even HAVE to simply observe for awhile as you figure out where YOUR next destination is. It doesn’t mean you don’t belong…it doesn’t even mean that you don’t belong with those people…it simply means that you don’t belong on that particular train going on that specific adventure.
So, I sit here in my train station…and I watch my people. I smile for their laughter…I shed a tear for their sadness…I offer up prayers for their fears…and I offer up hope for their adventures. And as the trains depart…I allow myself the grace to forgive my body for not allowing adventures right now…and I wait for the next train that I’ll get to board to the next beautiful destination in my life.
If you’re reading this, my sentence is up and I have been released. However, I still have things to say. Mostly…
Not Sorry.
Not even a little bit.
See, you put me in jail for two crimes:
1. Being absolutely fucking hilarious. It’s true. There are many areas of life where I fall short. Being funny isn’t one of them. 🤷♀️ So…when my hair gets caught in a curling iron, because one area I fall short in is Girling, and I say it sucked my hair up like a French whore…that is not hate speech…that is funny as shit at my own expense. PS My curling iron is not, in fact, a French whore. (But it is a whore.)
Exhibit 1
2. Being a rabidly loyal friend. I won’t post a screenshot of this one, to protect the innocent, but suffice it to say…if someone hurts one of my people…and I say I’m going to kill him…That is NOT inciting violence. That is BEING violent, but not inciting violence because I didn’t ask anyone to help me. (Get your terms straight.) And I will never be sorry for protecting the people I love.
But, go ahead and send me to jail for being hilarious…while letting guys message women on your apps with unrequested pictures of their junk. Send me to prison for being loyal and protective…while people start wars of hatred on your platform daily.
Just know, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon, because, in the case of Sheri vs Zuck…
First, I have this thing I do when I’m REALLY anxious. I call it the Strikethrough Exercise. When all of the thoughts are swirling…the worries…the negativity…and I feel like I can’t control them…I write them down…one by one…and then…one by one…I cross through each thought and write next to it either THE TRUTH (because anxiety lies) or a positive spin or silver lining to the situation. This exercise forces me to take each thought that’s swirling…separate it…address it…and find a way to show myself that it’s not something I can’t handle. It may sound weird, but it really works for me. One of these lists is what inspired this blog.
Second, every now and then, I come up with a little phrase in my mind (or out loud) that I’m particularly proud of and decide I’m a genius. (The best example of these moments is when I spontaneously told my ex boyfriend, “I don’t hate you. Your face just gives me Tourettes.” That’s a story for another time, but… *proud head nod and smile*…I’m still damn proud of that one.) Today’s random phrase that inspired the title of this blog…
“All of Life’s Wealth is CHANGE”.
So, what does that mean? Think about it in a monetary sense. At the base root of every amount of wealth is dollars. At the base root of every dollar is change. Small change (pennies) and incrementally bigger change…without it, we wouldn’t have wealth.
Life is the same. Without change we can’t have the full level of wealth that our lives are capable of. The friendships. The love. The adventure. The happiness. They all start somewhere. They start with change. Maybe it’s in pennies sometimes (we meet someone new or have a new opportunity) or maybe it feels like we’re sitting under a slot machine that just hit jackpot (an unexpected divorce or change in job). Without every bit of change that we accumulate, we wouldn’t end up with the wealth that we can have.
And yet…most of us…(maybe myself more than most)…Lord, do we fight change.
That’s where I’ve been at. At the root of all of my anxiety is the fact that everything is changing.
I felt at the top of my world back around the beginning of October. Things were going great. I had stresses…and a slightly dented heart due to my own stupidity lol…but, life was good. I had a career that was growing…I had grades I was proud of…I had this group of friends that I thought nothing could EVER change…I had found my place with a group of ladies who love fitness as much as I do and I felt like I was accepted and a part of something bigger…I was in the best shape of my life doing things the doctors said were impossible and proving to myself and the world what I was capable of.
Slowly, at first, and then more dramatically…that changed. Something happened at work that didn’t change my career, but drastically changed the environment of my career. Graduation suddenly loomed and I realized that I was going to have a giant hole there in my life that I don’t know yet how I will fill. I broke my leg and wasn’t able to work out. I holed up because I no longer felt like a part of the group. I no longer felt needed and wanted because I couldn’t do the things they could do. New people came into my group of friends…amazing and wonderful new people who add to everyone’s lives…but new people that were there when I couldn’t be. I watched the bonds form and the dynamics change (as they do)…all from the outside. I felt helpless and alone. But then I thought I had a chance to get back…and then the heart stuff happened. It’s not the end of the world, it won’t kill me (unless I keep being a dumbass and do something dumb like passing out in front of a moving vehicle). But it sure changes everything. There are things I can’t do now. There are things I shouldn’t do now. Some of these are things I did with my friends…things that now they can continue doing…within those newly formed bonds…
Suffice it to say…I spend a lot of time feeling like I’m under that slot machine and change is falling all over me. I have had no control over it falling…I don’t know when it will stop falling…and, I swear to God, if one more quarter lands in my eye I’m going to start throwing them at people! lol
So, that was the first thing on my list. But I struck through it…as my brain was forced to see the other side of that anxiety.
Everything is changing. Maybe…it’s supposed to.
That second thought was immediate as I wrote down the first. One of those moments where I know that God is speaking to me because I’m FINALLY in a state where I’m ready to listen.
Maybe everything is SUPPOSED to change.
Why? Well…let’s look at the other side of these quarters.
The situation in my career caused me to stand up for myself in ways that I didn’t know I was capable of. It forced me to look at my career…admit to myself what I was capable of…and decide what I was and was not willing to stand for on the path of my career. This changemade me grow in a way that I had not yet grown in my 40+ years of life.
The looming graduation and the fear of that “free time”…OK. This quarter is a little tougher because I’m not there yet, but it HAS pushed me to revisit other hobbies that I love and that bring me peace. I’m hopeful that I will continue to see that I am more than a student…and I’m embracing the fact that this will give me the chance to see if my years of “finding my confidence through academics” worked and if I really have grown in my ability to love and accept myself.
The feeling that I’ve lost my place and purpose in the fitness group…pushed me to accept when they offered me an opportunity to lead through teaching (I would have been terrified of that before). It showed me who really does care for me and not just for my abilities. It showed me that some people really do love ME and support me always. It also showed me that some people are only meant to be in the fitness side of my life. And. That. Is. Ok. It showed me that my place in this group isn’t just about fitness…in a very strange sense, at the same time as it was showing me where I don’t currently belong, it was showing me where I belong more than I ever imagined I could.
The new people…that’s a given. New friends are a great thing. As introverted and shy as I am, even I know that the best parts of my life are the people in it. I have more of those people now. And the changing dynamics…Honestly, I continue to struggle with this one. BUT this change has also further cemented some of those friendships (and they were already pretty dang rock solid cement). And even those that may have diminished very slightly…it showed me that they are still solid and those friends genuinely do love me even if sometimes our paths go in slightly different ways.
The heart…is forcing me to slow down. That is a very difficult thing for me to do, but it’s been necessary for a very long time. Everyone likes to tease me that I go 90 miles an hour or I’m the Energizer Bunny. I fill my time so that I’m moving nonstop. Sometimes out of necessity…sometimes out of fear. If I’m always moving, I’ll always have purpose…and I won’t have too much time to think. By being forced to slow down, I’m being forced to face that fear. Turns out life continues when I slow down. I still have purpose. I still have normal moments of both happiness and sadness…joy and strife. I just have it all with a little less exhaustion.
So…ALLLLLLLLLLLL of this change…flooding down on my head and smacking me in the face…is accumulating…
It’s accumulating into the life I’m supposed to have and have always wanted.
A life full of relationships and fun…career success and adventure…interests, hobbies, friendships and joy.
And I can’t get to that full extent of wealth without the change that is supposed to happen.
So, today I go forth. I stop trying to get rid of pennies and nickles just because they seem like useless change that is only going to weigh me down. I let the change accumulate and…
I patiently wait for the accumulation of change to turn into the fortune that God has planned for me.
And in my moments of fear and doubt, I will look towards that plan and pray a special prayer that I wrote for moments like these.
“Dear Lord, please allow me to hear your voice louder than the voice of my hopes, and allow me to hear the voice of my hopes louder than the voice of my fears.”
Everyone knows I’ve been having blackouts from POTS. The thing is, although each one has been scary… each one has also fueled me further in a, “the fuck you *will* take my life from me” capacity. Each one has pushed me further in my drive to not give up. Until today.
Today was THE Blackout.
(Quick segue; As I’m writing this, Walk Like an Egyptian came on. 🎵 They’re falling down like a Domino🎵 I feel attacked. 😆😆)
Anyway…THE BLACKOUT...
I was going to meet my friends for a run this morning. Like I do. I got there 30 minutes early to get in a little solo run time. Like I sometimes do. I set up my training program. Like I do. (Noticing anything yet? Everything like I do…because I will not succumb to this illness…) I gave it my all (like I do…) for what was supposed to be a 15 minute training run.
And then everything changed.
Around minute 14…things started swimming. I only had one minute left…I couldn’t bring myself to give up…I kept pushing. It was like running through molasses. Everything was slow motion…my legs felt like cinder blocks. I have never felt a minute take so long. I felt my watch indicate that my run was done…and I sat on a curb…right as everything went black.
Honestly, that still probably wouldn’t have stopped my stubborn ass. But the rest has me thinking that things as I know them are over.
As I sat there (I honestly have no idea how long…no longer than 5 minutes, I’d guess)…as things eventually started to come into focus…I saw my friends start to arrive. It was like watching a movie. I could see them all driving by where I was…no one could see me. No one knew I was down for the count. I couldn’t get up to go to them. The world was still too topsy turvy. So I sat there. Watching each one arrive. I finally managed to find my feet, but not my head. So, like a slo-mo scene, I walked towards where we park. And I saw my friends starting off on their run. I knew they figured I was just being my stubborn self and that they’d find me…but all I could see was them running away…as I watched…unable to even think clearly, much less be a part of them. And it clicked…this is my future. Slowly watching people keep going without me…sitting alone where no one can even see I need help because I’ve spent so much of my life telling everyone I don’t.
So, once I got my bearings, I left. Shortly thereafter one of my best friends texted me that they were looking for me, as I’d suspected, but…it hasn’t changed the tears and the fears.
This wasn’t just a blackout. This was THE Blackout. The one that’s got to change everything because I’m on my way to collapsing on the side of a road…alone…with no one to even notice or care.
And that’s where I’m at this morning.
A little more broken. A little more scared. A little more alone.
And not understanding why this had to happen when 6 months ago I was in the best shape of my life.
I just don’t understand and all I can do is pray to God for support, strength, understanding, wisdom, grace…and help.
We’ve all done it. We’ve heard a friend who is struggling and our first instinct is to let them know they’re not alone.
Our first instinct is to say, “Me, too.” Because we’ve been there. We’ve survived it. We have the fight in the rearview mirror (or we’re at least starting to drive).
We can help.
If you’re saying, “Nope. Not me. I never do that.”…then you’re a better person than me. I know for a fact that I’ve done that.
One of my favorite quotes is, “Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.”
We want to help. We want to save our loved ones from a pain we’ve already faced. We want them to learn from our past.
And that’s a beautiful thing. And, sometimes, it’s exactly what they need.
But..other times…that’s the last thing they need.
How many times have you been lamenting to a friend and they jump in with their, “Me, too!” They start telling you their similar tale…and you think, “Ok. Cool. Let’s talk about you now, I guess.”
Did they mean to cut you off? No. And you know that. But…in that moment…you needed an ear, and not advice.
You didn’t need a “Me, too!”.
You needed an, “I’m listening.”
You guys…I am not going to lie. I was raised by men and sometimes I just am one. I jump right to, “Ok. Let’s fix this!!!” Seriously…borderline peen showing in those moments.
But I’ve learned (usually) to stop myself…and ask…”Are you looking for advice or just an ear? Because I can be either.”
Because sometimes you need, “Me, too.” followed by advice. Sometimes you need, “I’m listening so that you can work it out for yourself.”.
Sometime you need both.
But you always need to have friends who let you make that decision for yourself.
So, basically…
Don’t stop the “Me, too”s. We need them. We need to feel understood. We need to feel empathy.
Don’t stop the “I’m listening”s. We need to know that we have a safe space to speak freely and be loved without judgment.
It’s funny how out of the blue a moment of clarity can be. We can be faced with a situation for years…think it through in a million ways…never fully finding the answer…and then one day…BAM! Like a football to Marcia Brady’s nose.
It’s also funny how we can truly believe we’ve handled a situation fully and then…that football hits and…well, shit…
It doesn’t mean that we handled it WRONG, but maybe we missed a huge piece of the puzzle.
Today I got hit in the nose with a football.
Anyone who’s known me long knows that I sometimes have nightmares. It’s a standard part of PTSD. The nightmares aren’t usually of the events themselves, but are representative of the trauma. They can come during times of extreme stress, or after certain triggers and…for me…they often come at times of happiness.
Weird, right? Why would happiness cause trauma nightmares?
Because (my trauma tells me that) happiness can be taken away.
(We’ll address those parentheses. They’re rather important.)
So, when I’m especially happy about something or excited about it…the nightmares come…always different, but always the same…my abuser takes everything away from me and laughs at me for believing I could ever keep it.
The past couple of nights I’ve had those nightmares. This time they were followed by good dreams, so they didn’t even fully click until this morning. But then some random thoughts reminded me and…yup…she was taking everything from me again. But then…a new follow up train of thought happened.
SHE was taking everything from me. Just like SHE always does. I’m so glad I’ve gotten away from HER so SHE can’t hurt me anymore. Wait…then why am I still hurting? She isn’t there anymore. Well, it’s not reasonable to believe that will end the trauma. No, but…if I continue to lose things…to someone who isn’t actively taking them…
I’m giving them away.
Well, crap. Let’s follow this train of thought.
Every time I think I’ve found my place with people…a moment will come where I feel left out (it happens to all of us)…and HER VOICE reminds me, “I always told you no one would really want you around…”.
Every time I believe I’m smart enough to succeed…HER VOICE tells me that I’m a fraud and everyone will see it soon enough.
Every time I find hope…HER VOICE reminds me that I am unworthy of happiness.
Every time I find joy and love…HER VOICE reminds me that I’m ugly and unlovable.
Every time I hear HER VOICE I withdraw and overthink and lose everything.
Her voice. Seriously. Her voice. A disembodied remnant from the past. The woman is still a lunatic and would love to hurt me, but…that part…who’s listening to a disembodied memory and letting it alter the course of their happiness?
Ohai! That would be me. Right here.
Every time I LISTEN to her voice tell me no one wants me around, I GIVE HER my sense of belonging.
Every time I LISTEN to her voice tell me I’m a fraud, I GIVE HER my success.
Every time I LISTEN to her voice tell me I’ll never deserve better, I GIVE HER my hope and happiness.
And every time I LISTEN to her voice tell me I’m unlovable, I GIVE HER MY HEART AND ASK HER TO BREAK IT.
A disembodied memory can’t take anything that I don’t give away.
Many many things were taken from me by my abuser. I was a child and had no control over their loss. Many Many reasons still exist as to why I need to stay vigilant and strong so that she can’t hurt me. None of that has lost it’s validity through this football to the nose.
BUT…the happiness that I want…the future that I hope for…the belonging and love that I dream of…
I’m giving those away.
And I’m not doing it anymore.
Happiness and love and hope…it’s MINE. And I’m not giving (it) up anymore.
A few weeks back I mentioned that I wanted to do some blogging on organizations and causes that need our help. There’s a lot of reason to the “Why” on this…and I’m going to give a brief explanation on this first blog regarding this specific topic before I jump into the first organizations.
So…anyone who knows me well knows that my biggest passion is Missing Kids. Because of my own history, this is a cause that is near and dear to my heart and always will be. It is where the majority of my volunteer effort and charitable contributions will always go. Notice that bold part.
BECAUSE OF MY OWN HISTORY.
But that’s the thing. We all have our own history. We all have our own passions that came about because of experiences in our lives. Whether you and your family were personally affected by domestic violence, cancer, diabetes, sexual assault (or any other of a myriad of issues that face our world today)…something left a mark on you and ignited your passion to make a difference.
That passion is something you fight for. That passion is something you volunteer to help with. That passion is something you will give for every time you know your help is needed and you have the ability.
That passion is a central piece of who you are.
And, thus, that passion is a central piece that you wish people understood about you.
With this knowledge, about 8 or 9 years ago, I started a project. As I mentioned, during the year if I give…my instinct is to give for missing kids. But, once a year I get a check from my holidays savings account. I put enough into that account that I won’t miss around $200. Through the year, that money is earmarked for this project. What is this project? Actually, I’m glad to tell you…I’m a little proud of this particular bit of brilliance (if I do say so myself lol).
When that check comes…I make a post on social media. I ask my friends and loved ones to tell me about THEIR PASSIONS. What organizations or causes mean something special to them? What world issue do they wish more people knew about? What is something that is such a central piece of who they are that they will fight it whenever they have the chance?
And…more importantly…WHY?
I ask them to tell me WHY this is the cause. I ask them to tell me how this particular cause is a part of who they are.
I ask them to help me understand this major part of them. Because…I’ve said it a million times and probably annoy people with how much I say it, but…being understood is one of our most basic needs and desires.
So, once a year my friends give me this list. From those that I haven’t donated to in the last year, I put them all in a hat and I choose about ten organizations to get about $20 each. It’s not much. I know it’s not much. But every little bit helps an organization…and every little bit of knowledge that people now have about this organization helps them tenfold.
And…most importantly to me…for a few minutes…my loved ones feel heard…feel understood…and feel supported.
My only request from them during this project is that they read other people’s responses and they consider doing this project themselves if they’re ever able.
SO…this year, I’ve already done my donations because I really didn’t need some of that stimulus money…and I decided that I was also going to turn this into a blog series. I want to highlight the charities that mean something to those around me.
But I’m going to be selfish first. Because, as I was scrolling social media today, I came across an organization that I didn’t know about. An organization that supports another cause that is EXTREMELY near and dear to my heart.
The foster system.
Foster parents get a pretty bad name. Unfortunately, that’s because some people go into it for the wrong reason. But…for a few days of my life…what should have been the WORST few days of my life…my brother and I entered that system. We entered it…and our foster parents were the most amazing human beings I think I have ever come into contact with.
Again…what should have been the worst days of my life, are some of the fondest memories of my life. We went to them in the middle of the night…scared…confused…afraid to go to sleep…terrified of what the future was going to bring. But the next day, we were faced with this…not foster family, but…FAMILY. They had one child of their own…2 other foster kids…and a foster baby that they were working to adopt. And they still took us in in the middle of the night. They made those days the most normal I experienced in my entire childhood. We played video games (I vividly remember that Track & Field pad that I had always wanted to try so badly!). We baked. We watched movies. We laughed. We were kids…in a time when our childhoods were being ripped away…we just got to be kids.
Because of that couple, I have always sworn that I would give back. I’m not in a place where I can be a foster parent right now, but one day that is a goal of mine. In the meantime, I volunteer as a babysitter for foster families when I can and when I’m needed. And I give in any way I can.
So, today…that scrolling…took me past “Together We Rise”. I had never heard of this, but I looked it up and they had a really high rating…but they supply foster kids with real duffel bags for carrying their belongings from place to place, rather than the garbage bag that many wind up using. My immediate thought was, “Permanence”. Permanence is something that is lacking for foster children…everything feels short term…everything feels…disposable. But that bag…that’s permanent and theirs.
So, I immediately gave this morning…and then decided that it was time to start this blog series and Foster Care was where I was going to start.
If you are so inclined, please check out ANY of these amazing organizations and remember, every little bit helps…and even just spreading the knowledge of the cause helps more than you know.
I’ve been thinking a lot about bravery the past couple of weeks.
I’ve never considered myself a brave person.
I mean…I’ve considered myself a stupid person because I usually have no regard for self preservation when it comes to certain daredevil type things…and when it comes to putting someone else before myself.
But, not brave. I’m too scared to be brave. I’m scared of doing the wrong thing. I’m scared of upsetting people. I’m scared of not being enough. I’m scared of being too much. I’m scared of being abandoned. I’m scared of being surrounded. More than anything, I’m scared of letting people in and being hurt or having my heart broken.
I live a life of fear. So, how could I consider myself brave?
But…like I said, I’ve been thinking about this recently. And especially right now as I lay here in my newly remodeled house…with this feeling of a fresh start…and I think…”My life has been one fresh start after another.”
I started fresh multiple times growing up. I started fresh after my divorced. I started fresh when I went back to school. I’m starting fresh with my new surroundings.
Do you know what it takes to start fresh?
Bravery.
I can be afraid. I can be so scared I am internally shaking and terrified. But…every time I start fresh…every time I make a huge change…every time I trust someone new and let them in…that’s bravery.
Not in spite of the fear, but BECAUSE of the fear.
I am in a fantastic mood today. Just deep down internal happiness.
(Give me a minute to get to the Whoah.)
It’s been awhile since I felt this. Things have just been spiraling since October, but I feel HOPE today. Will this feeling of perfect happiness last every second of the rest of my life? Hell no. Lol But that’s ok.
I am a firm believer that we need contrast. If we never feel sadness, how do we appreciate happiness? If we never feel tumult, how do we recognize peace?
But…TODAY… I’m happy and at peace.
Why? Nothing is perfect. Nothing ever is. Perfection is unattainable…but…everything is GOOD.
My almost 15 year old and I had FUN last night. Not out buying her stuff…at home working hard to put our house back together after some remodeling…we worked hard…and we laughed harder. If you’ve ever been the parent of a hot headed teenager…you know how precious these moments are. Don’t get me wrong, she’ll hate me later…but for those hours…I was her bestie again.
This morning I ran. Not the fastest or furthest I’ve ever run. But I RAN. Which I was starting to be afraid I’d never do again.
I’m back in some of my smaller jeans…and they fit like a glove instead of a sausage casing. I still need to lose another 10 pounds or so, but I’m making progress.
I looked in the mirror this morning and actually liked what I saw. Those moments are rare, so I bless them when I get them.
I’m finding my footing with my friends again. I’m getting through the semester and tax season from Hell. I’m pushing through and I’m making it. I’m exhausted and I’ve dropped a couple of balls, but the world didn’t end.
See? Nothing is perfect. Nothing is ever perfect…
Which was the beginning of my Whoah.
I have strived to be perfect for as long as I can remember. I don’t expect it from anyone else, but I have expected it from myself. I get angry with myself if I fail…I get angry with myself if I let anyone down…I apologize more than a Canadian with a cough during Covid season.
Why? Why do I expect more from myself than anyone else?
Because, maybe…just maybe…if I’m perfect people won’t leave.
WAIT, WHAT? WHAT KIND OF DRUGS ARE YOU ON, SHERI?!?
As I was thinking through this, my brain fell on a memory that it falls on often. Right after the kidnapping came to light…in the media circus and the strangers…there was this thought.
“This can’t be real. Anything else would make more sense. I’m betting that they decided they couldn’t afford 3 kids…so they came up with this elaborate story to get rid of a couple and keep the baby.”
In my head that made more sense than, “You’ve been kidnapped for your entire life and nothing is real.” And, honestly, until today…it has always made sense that I felt that way. Hell, we all try to find sense in the senseless. But, today it hit me…
WHY, in God’s name, would I believe it made more sense that they just didn’t want me THAT much?!?!
Because I wasn’t perfect. My mom always said I was ugly. No one wants an ugly daughter. I think I got a B on a test last week. The only thing I am is smart, so I messed that up, too. I’m too girly. I cry too much. I want too much.
I’m not perfect.
Maybe if I had been they wouldn’t have given me away.
Ridiculous. So, so VERY ridiculous. But that belief and mindset has shaped everything for the majority of my life.
Maybe if I’m perfect, no one will leave. Maybe if I do better, I can be loved. Maybe if I’m prettier…or thinner…or smarter…or kinder…or funnier…or…or…or
Maybe I can be worthy of love. Maybe someone…ANYONE won’t leave.
But, at times, I lost myself in my effort to keep the world.
So…WHOAH…That ONE thought…that honestly everyone always told me made sense and was understandable…shaped EVERYTHING.
But…I’m not perfect. No one is. I look homeless on a Saturday afternoon…I bomb a test…I get sick…I get sad…I break my leg…I mess up…
But I’m not alone.
Sometimes I’m a bitch…sometimes I’m moody…sometimes I’m anxious and afraid. That’s not perfect.
But I’m not alone.
I am not perfect and, yet, some people haven’t left.
So…today I’m relishing my imperfect life. I will have bad days with my kid. But I have amazing days with her, too. I will feel ugly, but some days I’ll be like, “Yeah…what up, you?!?” and give the mirror a lascivious wink. Some days I won’t be able to focus, other days I’ll get As without trying.
Ups and downs. Happiness and sadness. Imperfections and absolutely perfect moments. They will all happen…and no one will give me away.
*Jazz Hands* Mom 