I use the Frog analogy all the time. You know, the one about the frog in boiling water. If you throw him into boiling water, he will jump out. Duh. BUT if you put him in cool water and very, very slowly turn up the heat, he will boil alive.
I was the frog for years. The heat turned up so slowly I didn't even notice that I was being boiled alive. That I was crumbling underneath the weight of life. That everything around me was so toxic it was deadly.
I hate the word "toxic". It's such a ridiculous buzzword at this point. "Toxic narcissists" everywheres! Lets all armchair diagnose everyone else!
I will, however, unapologetically remove any and all toxicity from my life. If anyone feels I am toxic to them, please remove me as well.
I say that not because I don't care about people but because I know that we can unwittingly become bad for others.
Maybe this is my naivety. Maybe this is what is fundamentally wrong with my life. My belief that people (for the most part as I don't know a lot of sociopaths that I am aware of) are generally just doing the best they can. That people don't set out to destroy anyone else. That people are generally just trying to find their way and inadvertently hurt others on the way there. I know I have. I know I have also put the weight of my expectations on other people and have hurt them unfairly. I didn't do it intentionally, but unintentional pain still hurts the same.
Jump out of the damn water. Sometimes it's simple and sometimes it's life altering and shattering. Do it anyways. Short term destruction is better than long term soul crushing. You can do anything for a year. Or for a month. Or for how long it takes. You are strong enough. Trust me. I lived through the last 18 months- you can do it too.
Thursday, February 21, 2019
Saturday, January 12, 2019
Look at this photograph...
I hope from reading the title, you have an old Nickleback song stuck in your head now too.
I post zillions of pictures. It's a running joke with some of my friends and I am sure many more have the same opinion without verbalizing it. I am aware I post many, many pictures.
Maybe I don't need to post them all. Maybe I could keep them to myself in my phone and not publically announce all things. Maybe. Maybe others opinons don't freaking matter to me and I'll post whatever I want.
I don't post pictures to point out how lonely anyone else's life is. I don't post pictures to make my life look shiny and flawless. I think I have been pretty open about my many struggles. I don't post pictures to make anyone feel excluded. I certainly don't post pictures as a passive aggressive way of reminding people that they weren't invited so STOP. Read the 4 Agreements. Nothing I do is because of ANY of you.
I post pictures because I have a very terrible and very selective memory. I post pictures because I forget. When my babies were born I thought I would remember every first. Every first word, step, tooth lost, hilarious sentence, hug, birthday. Truth is, I remember very few moments.
When I am low, you'd think I would remember the amazing friendship and family supports I have. I don't. I feel completely and utterly alone.
I love Facebook memories. I love when pictures of my littles come up and I see all the stuff we've done. Some of it hurts like hell because they will never be little again and we will never be the same family of 4 again. Painful or not, they are an important part of my life and their lives. I love showing the kids the old pictures and talking about the memories both good and bad. The pictures remind me that even though I traded half their time for all of our sanity, I am still their mom. I am still the one who rocked them all night; I am the one who planned birthdays and holidays; I am the one who was always, always there. I feel far away from them sometimes, and it brings me back.
I love looking through old albums and remembering. It grounds me and reminds me of all I have, not just of all I have lost. I love looking at hilarious nights with friends. It makes me motivated to plan new ones, especially when I feel like hiding in my bed with the blankets pulled over my head.
We all need those down times... I call it "turtling". I pull away from everyone and hide in my shell. I think it's essential for my grief process. I also know if it lasts too long, I am harder to pull back.
I almost hate this blog. I partly feel like I am whining and justifying and giving attention to the immature, gossipy bullshit that follows everyone. I hate justifying. It is my automatic response when someone has an opinion about me. It is my automatic need to have everyone understand and like all my decisions. It is a part of me I am consciously trying to change but struggle to do so. Regardless, I will post it because it's what I do (insert my favorite shrug emoji here).
I have reflected on my own response to what friends post. So what if someone posts a bunch of selfies? I don't need to have an opinion. So what is someone posts 85 pictures of their dog (please do btw. I miss having one). I don't need to have an opinon about other people. I can unfollow. Delete. Move on. Or just realize it's all their choice and has NOTHING to do with me.
I post zillions of pictures. It's a running joke with some of my friends and I am sure many more have the same opinion without verbalizing it. I am aware I post many, many pictures.
Maybe I don't need to post them all. Maybe I could keep them to myself in my phone and not publically announce all things. Maybe. Maybe others opinons don't freaking matter to me and I'll post whatever I want.
I don't post pictures to point out how lonely anyone else's life is. I don't post pictures to make my life look shiny and flawless. I think I have been pretty open about my many struggles. I don't post pictures to make anyone feel excluded. I certainly don't post pictures as a passive aggressive way of reminding people that they weren't invited so STOP. Read the 4 Agreements. Nothing I do is because of ANY of you.
I post pictures because I have a very terrible and very selective memory. I post pictures because I forget. When my babies were born I thought I would remember every first. Every first word, step, tooth lost, hilarious sentence, hug, birthday. Truth is, I remember very few moments.
When I am low, you'd think I would remember the amazing friendship and family supports I have. I don't. I feel completely and utterly alone.
I love Facebook memories. I love when pictures of my littles come up and I see all the stuff we've done. Some of it hurts like hell because they will never be little again and we will never be the same family of 4 again. Painful or not, they are an important part of my life and their lives. I love showing the kids the old pictures and talking about the memories both good and bad. The pictures remind me that even though I traded half their time for all of our sanity, I am still their mom. I am still the one who rocked them all night; I am the one who planned birthdays and holidays; I am the one who was always, always there. I feel far away from them sometimes, and it brings me back.
I love looking through old albums and remembering. It grounds me and reminds me of all I have, not just of all I have lost. I love looking at hilarious nights with friends. It makes me motivated to plan new ones, especially when I feel like hiding in my bed with the blankets pulled over my head.
We all need those down times... I call it "turtling". I pull away from everyone and hide in my shell. I think it's essential for my grief process. I also know if it lasts too long, I am harder to pull back.
I almost hate this blog. I partly feel like I am whining and justifying and giving attention to the immature, gossipy bullshit that follows everyone. I hate justifying. It is my automatic response when someone has an opinion about me. It is my automatic need to have everyone understand and like all my decisions. It is a part of me I am consciously trying to change but struggle to do so. Regardless, I will post it because it's what I do (insert my favorite shrug emoji here).
I have reflected on my own response to what friends post. So what if someone posts a bunch of selfies? I don't need to have an opinion. So what is someone posts 85 pictures of their dog (please do btw. I miss having one). I don't need to have an opinon about other people. I can unfollow. Delete. Move on. Or just realize it's all their choice and has NOTHING to do with me.
Friday, November 16, 2018
40th
I'm 40 this week.
40. I get age is nothing but a number and 40 is the new 20 and it's as old as you feel and all that other bullshit people say when you express how shocked you are that you're acutally an adult age.
40. This is not where I thought I would be at 40. I have a great life. I know. I actually don't think 40 will be as brutal as 39 was (knock on wood), so I am ok with it.
For some reason, the 9s are more challenging for me. At 19, at 29 and at 39 I made some major life changes. It's like the impending decade birthday wakes me the hell up and do some painful things before it's too late. That said, I hope my 40th year is much quieter and more calm than the 39th. My soul is tired.
I’ve learned many lessons in my many years. Some took a long ass time to wrap my slow brain around; some very painfully fast.
40. I get age is nothing but a number and 40 is the new 20 and it's as old as you feel and all that other bullshit people say when you express how shocked you are that you're acutally an adult age.
40. This is not where I thought I would be at 40. I have a great life. I know. I actually don't think 40 will be as brutal as 39 was (knock on wood), so I am ok with it.
For some reason, the 9s are more challenging for me. At 19, at 29 and at 39 I made some major life changes. It's like the impending decade birthday wakes me the hell up and do some painful things before it's too late. That said, I hope my 40th year is much quieter and more calm than the 39th. My soul is tired.
I’ve learned many lessons in my many years. Some took a long ass time to wrap my slow brain around; some very painfully fast.
The most important lesson I have learned this year is that I don’t know shit. I don’t know anything about anything. I certainly have a lot of opinions but I certainly have much to learn.
I have met many people who have helped me learn these lessons. While I love some of them very much our time was short.
Random list of realizations and lessons from my many, many years:
-I will put cream in my coffee. For many years I convinced myself I liked it black. I don’t. I like consuming less calories so I brainwashed myself. I will now always put cream in my coffee and eat a small bit of really good chocolate every single day. Not waxy chocolate, but really good dark stuff that I eat in actual bites instead of shoving the whole thing in my mouth.
-To respond emotionally gives your power away. I know I didn't say that first- Bruce Lee maybe? No response is a powerful one and so is taking time to formulate a logical response. This lesson has transformed many relationships for me and for that I will always be grateful. "Logic" and "reason" don't come naturally to me in times of emotion (which, lets face it, for me is pretty much ALL the time), so this is a big one. When I respond without thought it tends to become very explosive and I regret it in the long run. I have destroyed relationships in the past because of my responses. Even if I just pause to take a breath... it changes everything.
-Not everyone you love is meant to stay. It doesn’t minimize the level of care or the impact on your life but sometimes it just isn’t the right time. Or the right circumstances. Or there are too many obstacles. Or the person you thought you loved simply doesn't exist anywhere but in your mind. There is grace in letting go. There is relief in releasing a chokehold on a love that you cannot force.
- I will say no. It might take me some time to realize (as my default is to agree and do what makes other people happy), but I will say no. No to going out, no to adding things to my plate, no to making everything from scratch, no to my children if I need to, no to everyone. I will draw boundaries and they may result in some broken relationships. For too many years, I said yes and I broke under the weight of those expectations and agreements.
-Expanded from above- I will say no to my children. This is a big one for me. If I have reached my limit of physical touch, I will reassure them and then peel them off me. I will sacrifice many things for them but not myself. This is a constant balancing act and probably my hardest goal. I will make sure their needs are met but they need to realize that I am also a person with needs. That means sometimes Mommy needs to go to the gym and sometimes Mommy needs a time out. I cannot pour from an empty cup- but that said I will firstly make sure their needs are met. Their behaviour is a direct correlation of how well I am meeting those needs.
- I will honour what serves me. I realize that my general attitude in the morning isn’t great if I am rushed, so I will get up an hour earlier to drink coffee, stretch and organize my brain AND not talk to anyone. I will schedule exercise into my day because I become an anxious mess without it (and I’m 40 now so it requires more work to keep things where I want them to be). I will not sacrifice self care for busyness. This is easier when I do the above ^ and say no when my plate is full. This is easier when I plan and prepare meals and make lunches in advance and do what I know I need to do rather than sitting binge watching Netflix.
-I will sit and binge watch Netflix. In the summer I started to schedule lazy days. I realize this sounds insane. Yep I am such a Type A planner I need to schedule my laziness. It takes work for me to do
NOTHING. I started to pick every second Sunday when my kids were at their dads (in preparation for NFL season to start) and planned to do nothing. For me, a lazy day means a long workout, a starbucks run, and a cheeseburger in bed.
-I will not let events change who I am, no matter how painful. I will not allow hurts to make me hard. I am someone who loves a lot and won't change that to avoid pain. Yes it might hurt like a bitch, but it won't break me. I have also learned that. The reward is greater than the risk, and I will ALWAYS take the risk. I will love first, I will love most and I will love greatest and I won't pretend I don't. This goes for all relationships, not just romantic ones.
-I will cherish my people. It took me a long time to find my people. I neglected them for a long time too.. but because they are my people, they understood and stuck around. No matter what happens, I will protect my fierce lady friendships. I value relationships more than anything else in my life and will prioritize them before anything else (I count my relationship with my children there before you freak out and think I am neglecting them to drink wine with my lady friends. Not what I meant at all). We have a First Wives Club that has an agreement to be there. That's it. We drunkenly agreed to BE THERE no matter what. I will drop anything, except my kids, to be there. As they have for me. It takes a big man to understand this.
That's it. That's enough.
Happy 40th to me. Maybe I have 40 more... maybe not. I won't spend the remaining years waiting, or wondering, or regretting.
Random list of realizations and lessons from my many, many years:
-I will put cream in my coffee. For many years I convinced myself I liked it black. I don’t. I like consuming less calories so I brainwashed myself. I will now always put cream in my coffee and eat a small bit of really good chocolate every single day. Not waxy chocolate, but really good dark stuff that I eat in actual bites instead of shoving the whole thing in my mouth.
-To respond emotionally gives your power away. I know I didn't say that first- Bruce Lee maybe? No response is a powerful one and so is taking time to formulate a logical response. This lesson has transformed many relationships for me and for that I will always be grateful. "Logic" and "reason" don't come naturally to me in times of emotion (which, lets face it, for me is pretty much ALL the time), so this is a big one. When I respond without thought it tends to become very explosive and I regret it in the long run. I have destroyed relationships in the past because of my responses. Even if I just pause to take a breath... it changes everything.
-Not everyone you love is meant to stay. It doesn’t minimize the level of care or the impact on your life but sometimes it just isn’t the right time. Or the right circumstances. Or there are too many obstacles. Or the person you thought you loved simply doesn't exist anywhere but in your mind. There is grace in letting go. There is relief in releasing a chokehold on a love that you cannot force.
- I will say no. It might take me some time to realize (as my default is to agree and do what makes other people happy), but I will say no. No to going out, no to adding things to my plate, no to making everything from scratch, no to my children if I need to, no to everyone. I will draw boundaries and they may result in some broken relationships. For too many years, I said yes and I broke under the weight of those expectations and agreements.
-Expanded from above- I will say no to my children. This is a big one for me. If I have reached my limit of physical touch, I will reassure them and then peel them off me. I will sacrifice many things for them but not myself. This is a constant balancing act and probably my hardest goal. I will make sure their needs are met but they need to realize that I am also a person with needs. That means sometimes Mommy needs to go to the gym and sometimes Mommy needs a time out. I cannot pour from an empty cup- but that said I will firstly make sure their needs are met. Their behaviour is a direct correlation of how well I am meeting those needs.
- I will honour what serves me. I realize that my general attitude in the morning isn’t great if I am rushed, so I will get up an hour earlier to drink coffee, stretch and organize my brain AND not talk to anyone. I will schedule exercise into my day because I become an anxious mess without it (and I’m 40 now so it requires more work to keep things where I want them to be). I will not sacrifice self care for busyness. This is easier when I do the above ^ and say no when my plate is full. This is easier when I plan and prepare meals and make lunches in advance and do what I know I need to do rather than sitting binge watching Netflix.
-I will sit and binge watch Netflix. In the summer I started to schedule lazy days. I realize this sounds insane. Yep I am such a Type A planner I need to schedule my laziness. It takes work for me to do
NOTHING. I started to pick every second Sunday when my kids were at their dads (in preparation for NFL season to start) and planned to do nothing. For me, a lazy day means a long workout, a starbucks run, and a cheeseburger in bed.
-I will not let events change who I am, no matter how painful. I will not allow hurts to make me hard. I am someone who loves a lot and won't change that to avoid pain. Yes it might hurt like a bitch, but it won't break me. I have also learned that. The reward is greater than the risk, and I will ALWAYS take the risk. I will love first, I will love most and I will love greatest and I won't pretend I don't. This goes for all relationships, not just romantic ones.
-I will cherish my people. It took me a long time to find my people. I neglected them for a long time too.. but because they are my people, they understood and stuck around. No matter what happens, I will protect my fierce lady friendships. I value relationships more than anything else in my life and will prioritize them before anything else (I count my relationship with my children there before you freak out and think I am neglecting them to drink wine with my lady friends. Not what I meant at all). We have a First Wives Club that has an agreement to be there. That's it. We drunkenly agreed to BE THERE no matter what. I will drop anything, except my kids, to be there. As they have for me. It takes a big man to understand this.
That's it. That's enough.
Happy 40th to me. Maybe I have 40 more... maybe not. I won't spend the remaining years waiting, or wondering, or regretting.
Babies on Vacay
My babies are on a holiday.
I am not.
I didn't sleep last week in anticipation of them going. I would wake up in the middle of the night either panicked that something happened to their plane or that something happened while they were there (the worst sunburn ever; secondary drowning; Mexican drug cartel... my imagination is immense in the dark) and I wouldn't be there to fix it. Who will pack their goggles? Who will make sure that they wear enough sunscreen?
I haven't slept much this week because they are gone. They are having so much fun. They are well taken care of. They are not overly sunburnt as far as I know, they are safe in the water and the cartel has stayed away. Their dad has made them call me twice, which I appreciate more than he probably knows.
They are having fun. Without me. They are swimming and eating ice cream and making memories without me. With their dad and a new person. With someone they care about a lot.
I respect that. I try to anyways. I have a great stepmom and logically think it's wonderful that my children have another person to care for them and to be there for them.
Emotionally I feel like my heart is breaking. My village has assured me that no one will ever take my place as their mother. Logically I know that.
Emotionally... when I see pictures of the 4 of them together, the fear of losing them makes it hard to breathe. The thought that they will go to someone else about their hurts and problems and stresses makes me crazy. The thought that someone else will comfort them when they have a bad dream or rub their backs when they are sick just destroys me. The thought that someday, my babies might ask to go live with their dad and his girlfriend full time makes me panic. It's more fun there. It's the home they grew up in. I get it. Logically. Emotionally I have ranted and cried and screamed. I have made 2 snarky comments to my children about it. I am not proud of that.
I am not a great mom. I get overwhelmed and I don't have enough patience and I yell and don't read to them enough and don't tell them how amazing they are enough and I lie awake thinking of ways I should have been better after a long day of refereeing their fighting... but I am a good mom and I love them more than I ever thought possible.
I didn't know coparenting would be THIS hard. I thought it would get easier. I thought after a year, I would be ok with them being gone every second week. I thought shared custody was a necessary evil to get out of a bad relationship. I thought we would share them and try to raise them together and the awful feeling of being lost when they were gone would lessen.
It hasn't.
Every second Friday when I drop them at their dad's, I cry. For a year now. I cry every second Friday at 5:02 when I drive away. Every second Friday at 5 I make plans to distract myself so I don't have to go home to face the emptiness of my house. I thought I would start to look forward to it... but I hate it. With every piece of my heart. I hate it.
Don't get me wrong- it's less devastating by a fraction. Their dad and I are now on speaking terms and even able to have civil and friendly conversations. He makes them call me and I make them call him (what 9 and 6 year old want to talk on the phone anyways?). He and I had a conversation before they left about how hard it was going to be and how much I was dreading it. He says he understands- but he doesn't yet. I haven't introduced them to anyone. I haven't added another person to their life that they adore. He hasn't had his place threatened yet. As much as he and I have been through, I dread that day for him. I know it will gut him. I know how much he loves our children and I know how hard it will be. I know how hard it is.
I wasn't going to blog anymore. I was going to speak less and listen more. This one I had to get out though. I read an article when we first split about how hard coparenting is, and I remember thinking Oh my God that is me. That is exactly how I feel. Thank God other people struggle this hard.
So tonight, at 5pm when my babies should be coming home but are on a beach instead, I spewed all this mess out on my laptop as I sob in my kitchen and drink too much blueberry tea. Just in case someone needs to read it. Just in case someone is wondering if the grass is greener.
I am fortunate to have my babies at all. I am lucky to be their mom. They are not just mine. I have to remember that. They are a gift to many... and as much as it hurts me to share, I have to learn to give up ownership and share the gift of my babies with others.
And trust that they will always, always know I how much I love them.
I am not.
I didn't sleep last week in anticipation of them going. I would wake up in the middle of the night either panicked that something happened to their plane or that something happened while they were there (the worst sunburn ever; secondary drowning; Mexican drug cartel... my imagination is immense in the dark) and I wouldn't be there to fix it. Who will pack their goggles? Who will make sure that they wear enough sunscreen?
I haven't slept much this week because they are gone. They are having so much fun. They are well taken care of. They are not overly sunburnt as far as I know, they are safe in the water and the cartel has stayed away. Their dad has made them call me twice, which I appreciate more than he probably knows.
They are having fun. Without me. They are swimming and eating ice cream and making memories without me. With their dad and a new person. With someone they care about a lot.
I respect that. I try to anyways. I have a great stepmom and logically think it's wonderful that my children have another person to care for them and to be there for them.
Emotionally I feel like my heart is breaking. My village has assured me that no one will ever take my place as their mother. Logically I know that.
Emotionally... when I see pictures of the 4 of them together, the fear of losing them makes it hard to breathe. The thought that they will go to someone else about their hurts and problems and stresses makes me crazy. The thought that someone else will comfort them when they have a bad dream or rub their backs when they are sick just destroys me. The thought that someday, my babies might ask to go live with their dad and his girlfriend full time makes me panic. It's more fun there. It's the home they grew up in. I get it. Logically. Emotionally I have ranted and cried and screamed. I have made 2 snarky comments to my children about it. I am not proud of that.
I am not a great mom. I get overwhelmed and I don't have enough patience and I yell and don't read to them enough and don't tell them how amazing they are enough and I lie awake thinking of ways I should have been better after a long day of refereeing their fighting... but I am a good mom and I love them more than I ever thought possible.
I didn't know coparenting would be THIS hard. I thought it would get easier. I thought after a year, I would be ok with them being gone every second week. I thought shared custody was a necessary evil to get out of a bad relationship. I thought we would share them and try to raise them together and the awful feeling of being lost when they were gone would lessen.
It hasn't.
Every second Friday when I drop them at their dad's, I cry. For a year now. I cry every second Friday at 5:02 when I drive away. Every second Friday at 5 I make plans to distract myself so I don't have to go home to face the emptiness of my house. I thought I would start to look forward to it... but I hate it. With every piece of my heart. I hate it.
Don't get me wrong- it's less devastating by a fraction. Their dad and I are now on speaking terms and even able to have civil and friendly conversations. He makes them call me and I make them call him (what 9 and 6 year old want to talk on the phone anyways?). He and I had a conversation before they left about how hard it was going to be and how much I was dreading it. He says he understands- but he doesn't yet. I haven't introduced them to anyone. I haven't added another person to their life that they adore. He hasn't had his place threatened yet. As much as he and I have been through, I dread that day for him. I know it will gut him. I know how much he loves our children and I know how hard it will be. I know how hard it is.
I wasn't going to blog anymore. I was going to speak less and listen more. This one I had to get out though. I read an article when we first split about how hard coparenting is, and I remember thinking Oh my God that is me. That is exactly how I feel. Thank God other people struggle this hard.
So tonight, at 5pm when my babies should be coming home but are on a beach instead, I spewed all this mess out on my laptop as I sob in my kitchen and drink too much blueberry tea. Just in case someone needs to read it. Just in case someone is wondering if the grass is greener.
I am fortunate to have my babies at all. I am lucky to be their mom. They are not just mine. I have to remember that. They are a gift to many... and as much as it hurts me to share, I have to learn to give up ownership and share the gift of my babies with others.
And trust that they will always, always know I how much I love them.
Friday, September 21, 2018
Mama Bear
My mama heart is breaking.
I admit, i have a tender mama heart. I routinely wish I could build a bubble around my babies to prevent them from getting hurt. While I logically know that adversity will build more resilient, courageous, authentic humans.... it’s really hard to watch. I alternate between wanting to smash heads of other children and wanting to hug/ cry with mine.
My biggest little loves hockey. Loves the game. Love stats and games and cards and drafts and fantasy and street hockey and ice hockey and has an oilers room (I did a great job on that room btw in the house I no longer live). He isn’t good at hockey though. I should say, he isn’t good at skating. His dad and I have discussed hard work. We’ve talked about extra time on the ice with him and how sometimes you have to work a little harder than everyone else, but he’s been content to just coast. For someone with two competitive, grinder parents he sure is content to coast. Up until now, he hasn’t realized that he isn’t great at hockey.... but apparently grade 4 is the magic age. Or the end of the magic age I guess.
I’m going to go off on a tangent. Maybe it’ll come together at the end, maybe not. Here goes.
I hated running. Always. I hated it because I sucked at it. I sucked at it because I never did it (and I had asthma but whatever). I realized as an adult that I loved how I felt AFTER though. I loved how it helped my brain and the motion was almost meditative.
So I started running. I was terrible. I was in my mid 30s and could barely run down the block without gasping. I was in decent shape, but my cardio was awful. I remember worrying that someone would drive by and think how much I sucked as they saw me red faced and gasping on the side of the road. I started running trails where no one but other runners could see me... usually at 5am. I didn’t want anyone to know how terrible I was. I didn’t want the weight of their judgments.
I’m still not the best runner. I get a little faster and a little less gassed after a month or so of solid run training, but I’ll never be the fastest or be able (or willing) to run the furthest. I almost quit. I almost stopped running entirely and almost stopped signing up for runs because of the weight of people’s expectations. I also did it because I sucked at it. It was fun to get better at something I was terrible at, however small. I would never have done it when I was younger though. I would’ve been too afraid of comparisons.
I run down the main road now if I feel like. Mostly because the paths scare me and I’m convinced there is a serial killer lurking in the trees. Also because IDGAF about what other people think about my running ability. Tangent over.
I am worried that my son will leave the game he loves because he is mocked about sucking at hockey. I’ve heard it at school. I wondered last year if that would be the year it happened.
I’ve heard kids talk about which tier they’re on and make fun of other kids in lower tiers.
I’ve heard adults ask the same.
“Which tier is he in?” I assume these are the same type of people who look up other people’s run times on posted races. People who have little of their own accomplishments and need to be defined by comparisons sand how good their 9 year old is in local hockey. Guess what friends? Chances are, none of them will go to the NHL. Just sayin.
I get it. I’m a proud mama too. My son is not a good skater. He IS however full of sensitivity, empathy, loyalty and intelligence. The last time a hockey mom asked me what tier he was on, I was tempted to ask what reading level her kid was at. I bet mine can kick your kids ass at reading. How high can your kid skip count by 3s? How’s their mental math? So there. Do I? Of course not. I don’t need to compare. That’s my initial mama bear response.
You don’t hear my kid making fun of the other ones though. Not ever.
Because he’s kind, and he knows I’d end him.
So while I can’t beat up a 9 year old (or his mom) for making fun of my sons hockey ability, I can implore my adult friends to think about being a model of kindness. We are all good at different things. There will always, always be someone better, faster, stronger, smarter. It doesn’t make you better to make someone else smaller. Acknowledging someone else’s talents do not diminsh your own. You can be great at something, the best even, and not a dick.
Maybe we could all take a risk and do something we know we suck at. Risk looking foolish. Risk remembering why we just love the purity of it- without comparisons or expectations.
Now I’m going to go hug my big little. And remind him that no matter who says what, mama will always have his back.
And I’ll tear your throat out if you make him cry.
Saturday, September 15, 2018
Grief
Grieving is a funny thing.
Of course I don't mean ha-ha funny. I mean funny in the more horrible, unexpected and unpredictable way. Funny in I have to laugh or I will cry again way. I will probably cry again regardless.
I have found myself grieving more than I thought possible this past year. I have lost more than any other time in my life. Some things caused me more pain to hang on to than to let go of, yet I find myself unable to relinquish this strangle hold on them.
With much therapy and too much reflection, I have realized that so many of my most painful moments come from my need to control. If I hold on, I can fix it. I can control this situation. I MUST control this situation.
This will not be news to many of you but for some reason it always is to me- I cannot control situations. I will make mistakes. People will leave. Some for just a while, and some forever. Some I am better off without and some I will mourn the loss of for much longer than is logical.
This is what I mean by grieving. We grieve the lost relationships, not just death. We grieve those who choose to leave us. We grieve those we choose to leave, because while we still love, we simply cannot sacrifice ourselves anymore. We grieve the broken promises, the never got to bes, the soft moments that we will never forget, the life that we had or the life we never got to live.
Grief is a funny thing. Just when you think it's gone, it hits. The first bars of a song. Rolling over in an empty bed. A restaurant. A tv show on the PVR. The sound of a blender and the smell of tequila. Nothing at all.
The most random of things can invoke such a response- like all the air has been sucked out and I can't stop shaking. I have tried to logically talk myself out it. I have pulled over to the side of the road and sobbed until I had nothing left. I have called friends. I have self medicated with wine and Ativan. I have tried to literally run away.
The only thing to do I have found is to ride it out. Sit in the shit as my yoga teacher always told me. Feel it. Experience the pain, the missing, the loneliness, all of it. I have rewatched a Brene Brown TED talk on Vulnerability about 86 times. She says if we numb ourselves to the bad, we numb it all. The good and the bad.
I have done that and I refuse to do it any more. I have gone through years of survival. Where I felt small bits of joy (from my children), but refused to feel very much of anything out of fear that I would absolutely break apart. I have to forgive myself for that. It was years, but I did what I had to to survive. Now I know better, so now I do better. I am always trying to do better.
There was a song on my phone that I could not listen to. For months, it came on in the shuffle and I would dive to change it. Logic says to delete it but I somehow couldn't do that either. That meant it was time to move on and that I would never again listen to it with the person that I attached it to. That meant it was over and we would never sit in the kitchen just laughing and talking for hours. The memories attached to one simple song were so bittersweet I couldn't let go of any of it.
I listened to it today on purpose. I cried a little (shocking I know). Not a lot, but a little. I remembered. And it was ok. I let those memories come without trying to suppress them. I thought about all the lessons I had learned from that relationship that I was grieving so hard. I thought about the days this week that I felt relief that it was over. I thought about the amazing times that I would never have again with that person. I thought about all the times it just wasn't enough. I thought about the hours of miscommunication and the back and forth.
Then I deleted the song. It is time to move on.
I am grateful for the memories I have. I am grateful for the lessons that I learned from the experience. I am grateful that I learned that I am capable of feeling all the things, and that I am willing to be vulnerable and not defensive. That is a huge thing for me as I wasn't sure I was capable of that for a long time.
I also learned that I will be ok and that I am proud of myself for allowing vulnerability. I always knew I'd get hurt. I knew it wouldn't last. I knew it going in, and maybe that created this self-fulfilling prophecy of it ending. I will never know. But I do know that I allowed all the emotions. The good and the bad and I didn't numb any of it.
I learned that I am much more whole than I thought.
Of course I don't mean ha-ha funny. I mean funny in the more horrible, unexpected and unpredictable way. Funny in I have to laugh or I will cry again way. I will probably cry again regardless.
I have found myself grieving more than I thought possible this past year. I have lost more than any other time in my life. Some things caused me more pain to hang on to than to let go of, yet I find myself unable to relinquish this strangle hold on them.
With much therapy and too much reflection, I have realized that so many of my most painful moments come from my need to control. If I hold on, I can fix it. I can control this situation. I MUST control this situation.
This will not be news to many of you but for some reason it always is to me- I cannot control situations. I will make mistakes. People will leave. Some for just a while, and some forever. Some I am better off without and some I will mourn the loss of for much longer than is logical.
This is what I mean by grieving. We grieve the lost relationships, not just death. We grieve those who choose to leave us. We grieve those we choose to leave, because while we still love, we simply cannot sacrifice ourselves anymore. We grieve the broken promises, the never got to bes, the soft moments that we will never forget, the life that we had or the life we never got to live.
Grief is a funny thing. Just when you think it's gone, it hits. The first bars of a song. Rolling over in an empty bed. A restaurant. A tv show on the PVR. The sound of a blender and the smell of tequila. Nothing at all.
The most random of things can invoke such a response- like all the air has been sucked out and I can't stop shaking. I have tried to logically talk myself out it. I have pulled over to the side of the road and sobbed until I had nothing left. I have called friends. I have self medicated with wine and Ativan. I have tried to literally run away.
The only thing to do I have found is to ride it out. Sit in the shit as my yoga teacher always told me. Feel it. Experience the pain, the missing, the loneliness, all of it. I have rewatched a Brene Brown TED talk on Vulnerability about 86 times. She says if we numb ourselves to the bad, we numb it all. The good and the bad.
I have done that and I refuse to do it any more. I have gone through years of survival. Where I felt small bits of joy (from my children), but refused to feel very much of anything out of fear that I would absolutely break apart. I have to forgive myself for that. It was years, but I did what I had to to survive. Now I know better, so now I do better. I am always trying to do better.
There was a song on my phone that I could not listen to. For months, it came on in the shuffle and I would dive to change it. Logic says to delete it but I somehow couldn't do that either. That meant it was time to move on and that I would never again listen to it with the person that I attached it to. That meant it was over and we would never sit in the kitchen just laughing and talking for hours. The memories attached to one simple song were so bittersweet I couldn't let go of any of it.
I listened to it today on purpose. I cried a little (shocking I know). Not a lot, but a little. I remembered. And it was ok. I let those memories come without trying to suppress them. I thought about all the lessons I had learned from that relationship that I was grieving so hard. I thought about the days this week that I felt relief that it was over. I thought about the amazing times that I would never have again with that person. I thought about all the times it just wasn't enough. I thought about the hours of miscommunication and the back and forth.
Then I deleted the song. It is time to move on.
I am grateful for the memories I have. I am grateful for the lessons that I learned from the experience. I am grateful that I learned that I am capable of feeling all the things, and that I am willing to be vulnerable and not defensive. That is a huge thing for me as I wasn't sure I was capable of that for a long time.
I also learned that I will be ok and that I am proud of myself for allowing vulnerability. I always knew I'd get hurt. I knew it wouldn't last. I knew it going in, and maybe that created this self-fulfilling prophecy of it ending. I will never know. But I do know that I allowed all the emotions. The good and the bad and I didn't numb any of it.
I learned that I am much more whole than I thought.
Thursday, September 6, 2018
I found this in my drafts. I’ll go cry now.
I like to imagine I am a person who considers others motivations before judging their behaviour. I could say I don't judge other people, but we all do. I make conscious attempts to do it less, but still it is human nature.
This week has been hell. I remember thinking shared custody sounded lovely. Every second weekend off to do whatever you wanted- no kids, no husband, just chill time. I also remember thinking 50/50 custody would kill me and that was a reason to stay married.
I was almost right.
Every second week I don't see my kids. Every second week I don't get to hear their stories about school; I don't get to make sure they brush or eat vegetables. They wake up from nightmares and I am not the one there to hold them and rock them back to sleep. My entire life was organized about them and their needs for 8 years... and now I don't see them for 7 day stretches.
I remember thinking that my newly single friends went out a ton. I remember judging and wondering why the hell they weren't at early morning hockey.
It never occurred to me that they may be avoiding being at home, where empty bedroom doors loomed huge and the quiet was suffocating It never occurred to me that the interaction with the ex at children's activities was so anxiety inducing that they couldn't breathe. I never thought that parenting with a broken heart is the hardest thing they have ever had to do, and seeing the kids with dad was devastating. I also never anticipated the look of judgement and brokenness from my own child, when he blames me for the shattered family and stares at me with tears in his eyes. It's easier to avoid the look. It's easier to stay in bed when it's not my week. Even when it is my week, it's overwhelming to be the mom I used to be.
This week has been hell. I remember thinking shared custody sounded lovely. Every second weekend off to do whatever you wanted- no kids, no husband, just chill time. I also remember thinking 50/50 custody would kill me and that was a reason to stay married.
I was almost right.
Every second week I don't see my kids. Every second week I don't get to hear their stories about school; I don't get to make sure they brush or eat vegetables. They wake up from nightmares and I am not the one there to hold them and rock them back to sleep. My entire life was organized about them and their needs for 8 years... and now I don't see them for 7 day stretches.
I remember thinking that my newly single friends went out a ton. I remember judging and wondering why the hell they weren't at early morning hockey.
It never occurred to me that they may be avoiding being at home, where empty bedroom doors loomed huge and the quiet was suffocating It never occurred to me that the interaction with the ex at children's activities was so anxiety inducing that they couldn't breathe. I never thought that parenting with a broken heart is the hardest thing they have ever had to do, and seeing the kids with dad was devastating. I also never anticipated the look of judgement and brokenness from my own child, when he blames me for the shattered family and stares at me with tears in his eyes. It's easier to avoid the look. It's easier to stay in bed when it's not my week. Even when it is my week, it's overwhelming to be the mom I used to be.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)