I started my wide journey to forgiveness a long time ago. I say journey because forgiveness, to me, isn't a one time stamp on a relationship that lasts forever. It's ongoing. You have to exercise forgiveness, stretch it out in the morning before your coffee. Shake it awake in your bones. Make it flex to your soul. Forgiveness is an invisible blanket that becomes your super human cape before you face the roughest moments of your life.
When I learned how my forgiveness shape shifts, I learned the power I could have. I stopped making an apology the prerequisite to my forgiveness. Anticipating and waiting on apologies made my forgiveness conditional and out of my control. And if the forgiveness was mine, shouldn't it have been in my control? What I never expected was an apology.
Last week one came. Out of the blue, in an honest moment of openness and tight window of vulnerability...I received an apology. One from a door I had closed. I wasn't shaken to my core, I didn't cry out of relief. I simply accepted it. It seemed flawless, almost in the way that you allow a stranger to hold the door open for you when your hands are full.
I didn't allow it to let me open the door again, but finally, I could lock it. I didn't have to tend to the monsters behind the door anymore. The pain wouldn't sneak up on me, because now, it could be locked away. I didn't realize that would be an option for me. I was so accustomed to tending to my pain, applying bandages to the wounds and letting them air out with a good cry. Suddenly, the wounds were gone and I felt...light. Like I had an extra pair of wings. Funny how God works.
You never really know how you'll move in life, if it'll be skips over stones or if you'll finally be able to fly. It wasn't the apology that gave me wings, but the active forgiveness that I had been practicing. By the time the apology came, I was already trained to fly.
The apology made the air under my wings more powerful, but without it, I would still be free.
I would still fly.
I will always fly.
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
Where it All Went: My Open Letter to my Dad
Disclaimer:
This is a personal, yet open letter. If you are afraid to read or don't desire to read, please do not scroll. I also ask that if you feel I should be quiet about abuse, please refrain from in-boxing or texting me to do so, because I will not comply.
Dear Dad,
I'm not really sure where to start. I haven't spoken to you in over three years. I see posts and sometimes see special things you've sent to my little sisters and I land on them for a while and allow my eyes to wander through tears and confusion until I am able to move on with my day. I've been wanting to send you a letter, but the last time I tried to reach out, you never responded. I wonder if you ask about me. Do you know I got a divorce? Do you know I'm married now? Do you know my husband's name? Do you wonder about the little girl you lost?
It's a strange thing really, to have a dad, but NOT have a dad. To feel disowned and confused as an adult. You defined so much in me and molded so much in my life. I don't even think you realize it. Sometimes I don't even want to realize it because I don't want to give you that power. I know you don't like to admit what you did and at this point I would never ask you to. I don't need validation from you, I don't really need anything from you. Not anymore. Maybe I did then. Maybe when I was lost and scared and you were the monster, maybe that's when I needed my dad. Where did he go? Was he ever there? I tend to over think our relationship...or not relationship. I give you credit for who I am today. And honestly, I probably shouldn't, but if you hadn't broken me so intensely I would have never known how strong I was. I wouldn't know that I could recover from anything. I would be weak. In a way, you forced me to be stronger. Stronger than you even.
Sometimes I get scared for my daughter. That maybe one day she'll ask about you. What will I tell her? Will she ever know you? What will I tell my son? Will he resent you? I have so many questions for you that I know will never be answered. A lot of them I've let go for the sake of my own sanity. Do you go a little insane from not knowing about me, the way I go a little insane wondering where it all went?
You'll never not be in my heart and that's a concept I've had to learn to function with. You are my father, but at the same time you're the root of all my brokenness. You planted this small seed of mental manipulation, abuse, and dependence that took me almost thirty years to break. I have moments sometimes where I blame myself for not being stronger when I was 15, for protecting you when I wasn't sure if you deserved it, but knew you needed it. Do you even know that I saved you when I was 15? Do you know that that's why I blame myself for where you are now? Maybe if I didn't save you, you could have gotten the "proper" help and it wouldn't have happened again. What happened to YOU, dad? When in your life did you lose your innocence? When did you know there was a monster inside you?
Here I am asking questions I didn't think I would. Don't worry, you won't ever see them, and you'll never have to face what you did. At least not to me. I hope you're saved now. I hope your demons have finally vacated your heart and I hope your mind is clear. I hope you know I forgive you. I forgive you for damaging my soul, for being so weak that you were used to destroy me, for not mending what you've broken, for lying to me and teaching me to lie to myself, for tainting my skin before it scaled away and revealed I was a woman and not a little girl, for ignoring me, for pretending that none of it happened, for being a better father for others than you were for me, for being there, for...not being there. I will always forgive you. Every day. I will remind myself that you are forgiven, that you have nothing to do with my successes but everything to do with my ability to be stronger than any man who has ever abused me. I will forever honor you on Father's day because you are who God saw fit to protect me and even though you failed, you provided me the tools to make my own armor and protect myself.
I walked alone on my wedding day and it was the tallest I've ever stood in my life. I walked without a father, without a man, without someone holding me up. I walked to meet a man who would hold me up for the rest of my life. I walked to meet my children who have birthed in me a love that is only possible when you call their heart your home. I earned my wings and you didn't even know. I was able to drop the armor for a day and be loved and you didn't even know.
I take you with me every where I go and in those bad moments I remind myself that I have forgiven you...even though you don't even know.
This is a personal, yet open letter. If you are afraid to read or don't desire to read, please do not scroll. I also ask that if you feel I should be quiet about abuse, please refrain from in-boxing or texting me to do so, because I will not comply.
Dear Dad,
I'm not really sure where to start. I haven't spoken to you in over three years. I see posts and sometimes see special things you've sent to my little sisters and I land on them for a while and allow my eyes to wander through tears and confusion until I am able to move on with my day. I've been wanting to send you a letter, but the last time I tried to reach out, you never responded. I wonder if you ask about me. Do you know I got a divorce? Do you know I'm married now? Do you know my husband's name? Do you wonder about the little girl you lost?
It's a strange thing really, to have a dad, but NOT have a dad. To feel disowned and confused as an adult. You defined so much in me and molded so much in my life. I don't even think you realize it. Sometimes I don't even want to realize it because I don't want to give you that power. I know you don't like to admit what you did and at this point I would never ask you to. I don't need validation from you, I don't really need anything from you. Not anymore. Maybe I did then. Maybe when I was lost and scared and you were the monster, maybe that's when I needed my dad. Where did he go? Was he ever there? I tend to over think our relationship...or not relationship. I give you credit for who I am today. And honestly, I probably shouldn't, but if you hadn't broken me so intensely I would have never known how strong I was. I wouldn't know that I could recover from anything. I would be weak. In a way, you forced me to be stronger. Stronger than you even.
Sometimes I get scared for my daughter. That maybe one day she'll ask about you. What will I tell her? Will she ever know you? What will I tell my son? Will he resent you? I have so many questions for you that I know will never be answered. A lot of them I've let go for the sake of my own sanity. Do you go a little insane from not knowing about me, the way I go a little insane wondering where it all went?
You'll never not be in my heart and that's a concept I've had to learn to function with. You are my father, but at the same time you're the root of all my brokenness. You planted this small seed of mental manipulation, abuse, and dependence that took me almost thirty years to break. I have moments sometimes where I blame myself for not being stronger when I was 15, for protecting you when I wasn't sure if you deserved it, but knew you needed it. Do you even know that I saved you when I was 15? Do you know that that's why I blame myself for where you are now? Maybe if I didn't save you, you could have gotten the "proper" help and it wouldn't have happened again. What happened to YOU, dad? When in your life did you lose your innocence? When did you know there was a monster inside you?
Here I am asking questions I didn't think I would. Don't worry, you won't ever see them, and you'll never have to face what you did. At least not to me. I hope you're saved now. I hope your demons have finally vacated your heart and I hope your mind is clear. I hope you know I forgive you. I forgive you for damaging my soul, for being so weak that you were used to destroy me, for not mending what you've broken, for lying to me and teaching me to lie to myself, for tainting my skin before it scaled away and revealed I was a woman and not a little girl, for ignoring me, for pretending that none of it happened, for being a better father for others than you were for me, for being there, for...not being there. I will always forgive you. Every day. I will remind myself that you are forgiven, that you have nothing to do with my successes but everything to do with my ability to be stronger than any man who has ever abused me. I will forever honor you on Father's day because you are who God saw fit to protect me and even though you failed, you provided me the tools to make my own armor and protect myself.
I walked alone on my wedding day and it was the tallest I've ever stood in my life. I walked without a father, without a man, without someone holding me up. I walked to meet a man who would hold me up for the rest of my life. I walked to meet my children who have birthed in me a love that is only possible when you call their heart your home. I earned my wings and you didn't even know. I was able to drop the armor for a day and be loved and you didn't even know.
I take you with me every where I go and in those bad moments I remind myself that I have forgiven you...even though you don't even know.
Thursday, February 2, 2017
My Miscarriage After My 32nd Birthday: "Are you okay?"
As a mother and co-parent, I have found it extremely difficult to "share" my children. It's not because I don't trust their father or his family, but because I've only had to share them for two years. The feeling is still new to me. I'm still adjusting to holidays and nights without them. Sometimes, I'll still wake up and feel them in the house and won't realize they're not home until I get to their rooms and see empty beds. Before our divorce, our agreement was 70/30 which meant I had them 70% of the time. Before that, their father and I were together and I was 100% in their lives. I went from being their number one provider to only having "access" to 50% of their lives (with our new custody agreement).
I've never really gone more than a few days without seeing them and even then, I'm a wreck waiting for them to get home. I still question when it will get easier, but right now, it's breaking me. The kids will be leaving in the morning to travel with their father and support him in a family emergency. I couldn't...I would never...say no to my children supporting and being with their father during a life changing moment, however, it doesn't make my time away from them any less painful.
Because on top of anticipating to be without them for almost a week, it's during a time when I needed my children and their love the most...because this week, I lost a baby.
When I was 17, I miscarried in my high school bathroom. And almost exactly 15 years later, I miscarried in the bathroom of the high school where I teach. When I was 17, I kept it quiet and dealt with it alone. I attempted to go work that evening. I cried in the back seat of my best friend's mom's car.
At 32, I tried to go back to work, but couldn't stay. I'm even going through the motions now. I lack focus because all I can think about is how I failed my husband. How my body betrayed me. I cried in the staff lounge in the office. I'm swallowing tears now as I attempt to seclude myself with headphones in the back of a class where students prepare speeches for a class I don't teach.
While the world goes on, I'm frozen in the loss of my baby.
I'm pained by the pending absence of my two children for so long because the truth is, right now, their dad might need them more than me. And moms...we are superhuman...we have super strength...we are iron...and right now, that's who I have to be.
I wasn't going to share this with anyone, I was going to let it be something my husband and I carried with us, but I don't want it to destroy me or the love we have. It's also important that his strength is shared. He's without a doubt, the best man I've ever met. When I was 17, the father of my baby refused to acknowledge more of what was happened. This week, those fears came back to me. I was afraid he would blame me for losing his baby. I was afraid he wouldn't trust me to continue trying to conceive. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to carry his child. What if this man who sacrificed his idea of a family, to embrace the family I had already made, wouldn't be able to have his own child because of me?
I'd be lying if I said I still didn't have those fears. My husband has been so supportive. Allowing me to feel my emotions while daily, "As long as I have you and the kids, I will always be happy with my life," he's constantly reassuring me that "it's okay." Such a simple phrase, but it consoles me to see the honesty in his eyes. That yes, it is okay.
For a handful of days he and I lived on this silent high where we planned the next 9 months out, talked about rearranging our room to be a nursery, pushed back plans to move, looked up OBGYNs, and talked about how to share the news. We never got to tell anyone. We never got to share it with the kids. I went from days of a natural euphoria to one day starting to bleed, a negative test (after 6 positives), and a silent personal hell.
I'm functioning. I'm going through the motions, but I end up at work and wonder how I got there because the whole ride all I can think about it how I've failed. How I need my kids to tackle me in love piles and Maliya to refuse to let my arm go, but now I won't have that for almost a week. In the moments when all I need is to be reminded that I am a good mom, my "motherhood" role will be across the country.
I'm "ok," if okay is an emotion. If okay is a state of being, that's what I am right now.
I know there is greater, I know there is light after this, I know the sayings, but right now, the best I can be is...okay.
I've never really gone more than a few days without seeing them and even then, I'm a wreck waiting for them to get home. I still question when it will get easier, but right now, it's breaking me. The kids will be leaving in the morning to travel with their father and support him in a family emergency. I couldn't...I would never...say no to my children supporting and being with their father during a life changing moment, however, it doesn't make my time away from them any less painful.
Because on top of anticipating to be without them for almost a week, it's during a time when I needed my children and their love the most...because this week, I lost a baby.
When I was 17, I miscarried in my high school bathroom. And almost exactly 15 years later, I miscarried in the bathroom of the high school where I teach. When I was 17, I kept it quiet and dealt with it alone. I attempted to go work that evening. I cried in the back seat of my best friend's mom's car.
At 32, I tried to go back to work, but couldn't stay. I'm even going through the motions now. I lack focus because all I can think about is how I failed my husband. How my body betrayed me. I cried in the staff lounge in the office. I'm swallowing tears now as I attempt to seclude myself with headphones in the back of a class where students prepare speeches for a class I don't teach.
While the world goes on, I'm frozen in the loss of my baby.
I'm pained by the pending absence of my two children for so long because the truth is, right now, their dad might need them more than me. And moms...we are superhuman...we have super strength...we are iron...and right now, that's who I have to be.
I wasn't going to share this with anyone, I was going to let it be something my husband and I carried with us, but I don't want it to destroy me or the love we have. It's also important that his strength is shared. He's without a doubt, the best man I've ever met. When I was 17, the father of my baby refused to acknowledge more of what was happened. This week, those fears came back to me. I was afraid he would blame me for losing his baby. I was afraid he wouldn't trust me to continue trying to conceive. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to carry his child. What if this man who sacrificed his idea of a family, to embrace the family I had already made, wouldn't be able to have his own child because of me?
I'd be lying if I said I still didn't have those fears. My husband has been so supportive. Allowing me to feel my emotions while daily, "As long as I have you and the kids, I will always be happy with my life," he's constantly reassuring me that "it's okay." Such a simple phrase, but it consoles me to see the honesty in his eyes. That yes, it is okay.
For a handful of days he and I lived on this silent high where we planned the next 9 months out, talked about rearranging our room to be a nursery, pushed back plans to move, looked up OBGYNs, and talked about how to share the news. We never got to tell anyone. We never got to share it with the kids. I went from days of a natural euphoria to one day starting to bleed, a negative test (after 6 positives), and a silent personal hell.
I'm functioning. I'm going through the motions, but I end up at work and wonder how I got there because the whole ride all I can think about it how I've failed. How I need my kids to tackle me in love piles and Maliya to refuse to let my arm go, but now I won't have that for almost a week. In the moments when all I need is to be reminded that I am a good mom, my "motherhood" role will be across the country.
I'm "ok," if okay is an emotion. If okay is a state of being, that's what I am right now.
I know there is greater, I know there is light after this, I know the sayings, but right now, the best I can be is...okay.
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
Trapped Inside: The Truth About Anxiety, Depression and Loneliness (Part 2)
...Plot twist; marriage doesn't solve your emotional issues.
There have been some very obvious and extreme life changes and transitions going on in my life in the past couple months.
It's amazed me the amount of people who have seen me after I got married and asked, "How IS it?!" as though marriage is this secret cult and once you get in everything changes and the masks are unveiled. Yes, there are some definite differences in comparison to what it's like to date someone long distance, but I've never experienced a more calm and peaceful partnership. With that being said....all my "problems" are NOT solved. Someone asked me, "What are you so anxious about? Shouldn't all that be over now that you have someone there to help you?"
I think a misconception about emotional turmoil is that all those waves and storms disappear with love. In the perfect world, sure, the Beatles were right; "all we need is love." But this world is far from perfection and a large crack in it is that emotional/mental struggles are perceived as easy fixes. That much like a cut, you can bandage it, prescribe a little meditation and POOF...no more anxiety. Love is the pillow of rest in my battle with anxiety and depression. Love makes it more tolerable, love slows down my brain, love comforts my mind during moments of worst case scenario movies. But love is not the root of my anxiety and because of that, love cannot fix my anxiety, it can only coat it in love ointment and allow time to go to work in its master field.
When I got married I knew that my emotional struggles with anxiety were not going to disappear and it's a little frustrating that a few people felt that it should have. Or that just because I struggle with anxiety that I'm not happy with my life. I promise you, if you were to ask ANYONE who has debilitating anxiety (the kind that sinks you into a daze mid-day and you obsess about things that don't even matter until they are replaced by alternate thoughts of things that don't matter) WHY they are anxious, they couldn't pinpoint just ONE thing that was causing it.
I'm aware that a lot of the reason why my brain works the way that it does is caused my childhood trauma. As a young woman in my twenties, I carried that trauma with me and never really slowed down long enough to allow myself to process the loss of a father in my life, the loss of security, and my need to be taken care of. Something happened to me on my 31st birthday at the beginning of this year. It was like I finally got the prescription I needed and I could finally see my emotional life clearly. I'm more aware of why I feel certain ways or why I behaved in certain ways when I was younger.
With all of this being said, not all problems are solved, but the emotional equations have become easier to understand. It's not always the easiest life to live when you're having mental warfare daily, but it's my life. I find solace in knowing that if I survived those wars so far, there has to be a greater purpose for me now. I'm extremely transparent, possibly to a fault, but I carry that "burden" with as much grace as I know is possible because somewhere out there, someone may stumble across my babbling and make sense of it and hopefully find a way to make sense of theirs as well.
Peace and Love.
There have been some very obvious and extreme life changes and transitions going on in my life in the past couple months.
It's amazed me the amount of people who have seen me after I got married and asked, "How IS it?!" as though marriage is this secret cult and once you get in everything changes and the masks are unveiled. Yes, there are some definite differences in comparison to what it's like to date someone long distance, but I've never experienced a more calm and peaceful partnership. With that being said....all my "problems" are NOT solved. Someone asked me, "What are you so anxious about? Shouldn't all that be over now that you have someone there to help you?"
I think a misconception about emotional turmoil is that all those waves and storms disappear with love. In the perfect world, sure, the Beatles were right; "all we need is love." But this world is far from perfection and a large crack in it is that emotional/mental struggles are perceived as easy fixes. That much like a cut, you can bandage it, prescribe a little meditation and POOF...no more anxiety. Love is the pillow of rest in my battle with anxiety and depression. Love makes it more tolerable, love slows down my brain, love comforts my mind during moments of worst case scenario movies. But love is not the root of my anxiety and because of that, love cannot fix my anxiety, it can only coat it in love ointment and allow time to go to work in its master field.
When I got married I knew that my emotional struggles with anxiety were not going to disappear and it's a little frustrating that a few people felt that it should have. Or that just because I struggle with anxiety that I'm not happy with my life. I promise you, if you were to ask ANYONE who has debilitating anxiety (the kind that sinks you into a daze mid-day and you obsess about things that don't even matter until they are replaced by alternate thoughts of things that don't matter) WHY they are anxious, they couldn't pinpoint just ONE thing that was causing it.
I'm aware that a lot of the reason why my brain works the way that it does is caused my childhood trauma. As a young woman in my twenties, I carried that trauma with me and never really slowed down long enough to allow myself to process the loss of a father in my life, the loss of security, and my need to be taken care of. Something happened to me on my 31st birthday at the beginning of this year. It was like I finally got the prescription I needed and I could finally see my emotional life clearly. I'm more aware of why I feel certain ways or why I behaved in certain ways when I was younger.
With all of this being said, not all problems are solved, but the emotional equations have become easier to understand. It's not always the easiest life to live when you're having mental warfare daily, but it's my life. I find solace in knowing that if I survived those wars so far, there has to be a greater purpose for me now. I'm extremely transparent, possibly to a fault, but I carry that "burden" with as much grace as I know is possible because somewhere out there, someone may stumble across my babbling and make sense of it and hopefully find a way to make sense of theirs as well.
Peace and Love.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
What I've Learned from the Men in My Life
This year has been teaching me so much. Perhaps, in my old age I'm starting to absorb more things that simply allowing them to happen TO me. Something in me started to grow and command my attention when I turned 31 in January. Maybe it's the fact that I'm not on the precipice of my thirties, but actually IN my thirties now. There's no excusing my actions or timidness because "she's only in her twenties." I have more responsibilities to society and I'm more aware of them. With all of that being said, I have recognized my tendency to overthink situations. Like...think nine months in the future over think things. I have also accepted that overthinking is a characteristic that I will always have and I embrace it with open arms. Overthinking is what has brought me to writing this today.
Recently I was discussing my latest discovery of my power. We're all born with it and I believe that when God creates us He already knows who is going to be damaged, who will be broken, who is going to need extra power on reserve, and He installs it and programs it to be released on a per-determined date. That date for me was my 31st birthday. The day I realized I have this innate ability to move people with my words, but even more so, without saying anything at all; so many things started to make sense. I've also been able to recognize truth in the words of others. This brings me to what recent words have pushed into light for me.
In my years of trying to strangle, mash, and intertwine the arms of love I had somehow turned into the men who used me. My weapon of choice was my energy and words combined. I mixed them together and became a deadly weapon, a machine gun, and I managed to "shoot first and ask questions later." I fooled myself into believing that I could never treat anyone the way that I was treated but in reality, I suppose that's exactly what I had managed to do. For a period of my life I used men for emotional support. If I needed to vent, I would vent. If I needed to feel pretty, I would feed into what I knew was attractive to them and wait for the compliments. At the time I had no idea that I was doing it, but in hindsight, wisdom and a couple of my past love endeavors finally opening up to how they truly felt, I have no choice but to acknowledge it.
In a heated "debate" (we'll call it a debate because I don't really find myself arguing with people anymore), I was informed that a certain individual wished they "never met me," among other hateful words. Two years ago, that would have crushed me. I would have let those words soak into me for days and destroy me from the inside out. Not this time. I actually felt a little pity for that person. I have no choice but to believe that we are brought certain people in our lives during a certain time period for a specific reason. If I didn't understand that I would be damaged by every person who exits my life. The pity I felt was because this person hadn't grown and it was so evident in that moment that they didn't understand that they were supposed to grow from our interaction with each other. On the other side of that, I felt powerful. Like I had been suddenly let in on this secret that I HAD been the one to grow. That I was healing. I felt like a child discovering tooth fairy money and suddenly the world was mine to buy.
Since I was a little girl I've been damaged, abused, burned, and destroyed by men in my life and it's taken years of going through the process of healing for me to discover what was in me the whole time. It's a somewhat unnatural feeling to realize that all that pain and strife eventually became the driving force that makes me a dominant woman today.
So to all the men who have come and gone in my life, all the heartbreak and abuse, I'm glad to have met you and that you were in my life. Thank you for destroying the old me so that God could finally build the better me.
Recently I was discussing my latest discovery of my power. We're all born with it and I believe that when God creates us He already knows who is going to be damaged, who will be broken, who is going to need extra power on reserve, and He installs it and programs it to be released on a per-determined date. That date for me was my 31st birthday. The day I realized I have this innate ability to move people with my words, but even more so, without saying anything at all; so many things started to make sense. I've also been able to recognize truth in the words of others. This brings me to what recent words have pushed into light for me.
In my years of trying to strangle, mash, and intertwine the arms of love I had somehow turned into the men who used me. My weapon of choice was my energy and words combined. I mixed them together and became a deadly weapon, a machine gun, and I managed to "shoot first and ask questions later." I fooled myself into believing that I could never treat anyone the way that I was treated but in reality, I suppose that's exactly what I had managed to do. For a period of my life I used men for emotional support. If I needed to vent, I would vent. If I needed to feel pretty, I would feed into what I knew was attractive to them and wait for the compliments. At the time I had no idea that I was doing it, but in hindsight, wisdom and a couple of my past love endeavors finally opening up to how they truly felt, I have no choice but to acknowledge it.
In a heated "debate" (we'll call it a debate because I don't really find myself arguing with people anymore), I was informed that a certain individual wished they "never met me," among other hateful words. Two years ago, that would have crushed me. I would have let those words soak into me for days and destroy me from the inside out. Not this time. I actually felt a little pity for that person. I have no choice but to believe that we are brought certain people in our lives during a certain time period for a specific reason. If I didn't understand that I would be damaged by every person who exits my life. The pity I felt was because this person hadn't grown and it was so evident in that moment that they didn't understand that they were supposed to grow from our interaction with each other. On the other side of that, I felt powerful. Like I had been suddenly let in on this secret that I HAD been the one to grow. That I was healing. I felt like a child discovering tooth fairy money and suddenly the world was mine to buy.
Since I was a little girl I've been damaged, abused, burned, and destroyed by men in my life and it's taken years of going through the process of healing for me to discover what was in me the whole time. It's a somewhat unnatural feeling to realize that all that pain and strife eventually became the driving force that makes me a dominant woman today.
So to all the men who have come and gone in my life, all the heartbreak and abuse, I'm glad to have met you and that you were in my life. Thank you for destroying the old me so that God could finally build the better me.
Monday, June 13, 2016
Lessons my Divorce Taught Me
These past couple of years have gone by so quickly. I feel like I've been watching myself grow toddler style. First I let go of my bottle, learned to roll over and suddenly I'm graduating high school. Along the way, life has managed to do everything from strangle me senseless in a dark alley to bring me breakfast in bed with a side of unlimited back rubs. In short, I've learned a lot.
There have been multiple chapters in my life but two phases that I want to focus on the most:
my divorce and falling in love again.
Traveling through each of these phases has taught me a lot and in the end, saved my life. Reflection is vital to improvement. After all, you may run the risk of history repeating itself if you don't take the time to look back at what has made you.
So let's get started.
My divorce has taught me:
1) We (women) can NOT change a man.
*I heard once (via the Steve Harvey show) that a man WILL change for a woman, but only once. I believe that our mistake as women is that we ALWAYS feel we are that ONE. A man has to choose if he deems you "worthy" of his change. Otherwise, there will be no change. My mistake was that I thought I was the one.
2) It's okay not to be THE ONE
* I felt it was my fault for not being everything he wanted me to be and yes, I had faults in the marriage. However, in the end, I wasn't that ONE he would change for and ultimately I had to learn the hard way that it was okay.
3) Let a lie be a lie.
*After the divorce I would try so hard to defend myself. I was constantly crying and fighting (with an imaginary listener). There was no point. I had to draw a line and realize that there was no need to defend myself or my truth anymore. Those who know me know my heart and my character and if anyone who didn't know me wanted to know the truth, all they had to do was ask. I had to stop trying to battle with liars.
4) The children belong to God, we're just temporary guides on their life journey
* It's easy to get territorial over your children, especially as a mother. There is no other bond stronger than a mother's. We GREW them INSIDE our bodies for almost a year and went through the closet thing to death in order to bring them into the world. No one else has done that for them and because of that, there is an immediate bond with your children. However, they do not belong to us. The sooner I realized that my children were God's the easier it was for me to find peace with them being gone (which I am currently still working on.
5) I didn't "lose" the battle for his love
* If you ever find yourself battling for someone's love, stop. "If they don't want you, you don't want them." I used to think I gave up too quickly, that I let his behaviors win, that I should have battled for his attention longer, I should have begged more, I should have tried harder....because then I wouldn't be the "loser" in the situation. I don't see myself as the losing party here, hindsight has given me a clearer perspective.
6) It's okay to have some regrets
* Obviously after seeing my last bullet point, I have some regrets...and that's okay. I think in life we all have little regrets here and there. I would have tried harder and longer for the kids, but in the aftermath of it all, some people and things won't change (refer to point number one). I always say that if I could go back and do it all again that I would do it all EXACTLY the same because I wouldn't want to risk not having my children.
7) Happiness after divorce is acceptable
* When I started dating I was so scared to tell my ex (even though he never told me when he moved on....just started making alternate seating arrangements during church). I knew he would make my life hell, he told me he would. But I deserved to be happy and part of that was being allowed to publicly love someone new. I had to hide so much during my marriage and I was tired of having to hide my desire to be happy or that I WAS happy. His response was....predictable and I felt guilty for moving forward in my life. It was the beginning of a very long (and somewhat ongoing battle) for me to maintain my joy, but I continue to fight for it because I deserve it.
8) Being a Single Mom is the HARDEST thing I've every done (and I've had to testify against my father before)
* When I was married I functioned like a single mom because my (then) husband was gone all the time. TRULY being a single mom is a different story. I did not go into the transition flawlessly and that was hard for me and others to understand. Bluntly put, I lost my mind a little the summer of my divorce and I was judged for it. Looking back I wish I had someone who could have helped take care of me emotionally and that I seriously attended some sort of therapy. I underestimated how much of life change it would be and how difficult it would be managing a home on my own. I moved, finished my masters, and went through a divorce all in the same year.
9) It's possible to lose yourself in a marriage and it's also possible to find yourself in a divorce
* I am NOT an advocate for divorce. I do believe that marriage is eternal and in some ways (because of our children) there will always be a part of me eternally tied to my (ex) husband. In our marriage I lost myself and the dreams I had. I lost the person I was trying to become at 21 and at 29 I had become my husband's. I did what he wanted me to do, I forgave when I was supposed to, I ignored what I thought would make him mad and the minute I decided I wanted to do something for myself....everything unraveled, him included. After the divorce I spent a year re-learning who I was as a woman and along the way have found a gift of empowerment and my purpose. It was trapped in the marriage and I couldn't see it.
10) Silence is not submission
* I think one thing women should learn to do is be silent during times of turmoil and storms. There are many battles that aren't for us. They belong to God and it takes a great deal of courage and strength to shut our mouths, pray and let HIM do the fighting for you. There have been multiple fleshly accounts I have wanted to speak out about (this is not to say I haven't done my fair share of fleshly vents...I am human), however, I am silent about more things than most would know. I don't address certain issues because in the end, "you can't reason with crazy."
There have been multiple chapters in my life but two phases that I want to focus on the most:
my divorce and falling in love again.
Traveling through each of these phases has taught me a lot and in the end, saved my life. Reflection is vital to improvement. After all, you may run the risk of history repeating itself if you don't take the time to look back at what has made you.
So let's get started.
My divorce has taught me:
1) We (women) can NOT change a man.
*I heard once (via the Steve Harvey show) that a man WILL change for a woman, but only once. I believe that our mistake as women is that we ALWAYS feel we are that ONE. A man has to choose if he deems you "worthy" of his change. Otherwise, there will be no change. My mistake was that I thought I was the one.
2) It's okay not to be THE ONE
* I felt it was my fault for not being everything he wanted me to be and yes, I had faults in the marriage. However, in the end, I wasn't that ONE he would change for and ultimately I had to learn the hard way that it was okay.
3) Let a lie be a lie.
*After the divorce I would try so hard to defend myself. I was constantly crying and fighting (with an imaginary listener). There was no point. I had to draw a line and realize that there was no need to defend myself or my truth anymore. Those who know me know my heart and my character and if anyone who didn't know me wanted to know the truth, all they had to do was ask. I had to stop trying to battle with liars.
4) The children belong to God, we're just temporary guides on their life journey
* It's easy to get territorial over your children, especially as a mother. There is no other bond stronger than a mother's. We GREW them INSIDE our bodies for almost a year and went through the closet thing to death in order to bring them into the world. No one else has done that for them and because of that, there is an immediate bond with your children. However, they do not belong to us. The sooner I realized that my children were God's the easier it was for me to find peace with them being gone (which I am currently still working on.
5) I didn't "lose" the battle for his love
* If you ever find yourself battling for someone's love, stop. "If they don't want you, you don't want them." I used to think I gave up too quickly, that I let his behaviors win, that I should have battled for his attention longer, I should have begged more, I should have tried harder....because then I wouldn't be the "loser" in the situation. I don't see myself as the losing party here, hindsight has given me a clearer perspective.
6) It's okay to have some regrets
* Obviously after seeing my last bullet point, I have some regrets...and that's okay. I think in life we all have little regrets here and there. I would have tried harder and longer for the kids, but in the aftermath of it all, some people and things won't change (refer to point number one). I always say that if I could go back and do it all again that I would do it all EXACTLY the same because I wouldn't want to risk not having my children.
7) Happiness after divorce is acceptable
* When I started dating I was so scared to tell my ex (even though he never told me when he moved on....just started making alternate seating arrangements during church). I knew he would make my life hell, he told me he would. But I deserved to be happy and part of that was being allowed to publicly love someone new. I had to hide so much during my marriage and I was tired of having to hide my desire to be happy or that I WAS happy. His response was....predictable and I felt guilty for moving forward in my life. It was the beginning of a very long (and somewhat ongoing battle) for me to maintain my joy, but I continue to fight for it because I deserve it.
8) Being a Single Mom is the HARDEST thing I've every done (and I've had to testify against my father before)
* When I was married I functioned like a single mom because my (then) husband was gone all the time. TRULY being a single mom is a different story. I did not go into the transition flawlessly and that was hard for me and others to understand. Bluntly put, I lost my mind a little the summer of my divorce and I was judged for it. Looking back I wish I had someone who could have helped take care of me emotionally and that I seriously attended some sort of therapy. I underestimated how much of life change it would be and how difficult it would be managing a home on my own. I moved, finished my masters, and went through a divorce all in the same year.
9) It's possible to lose yourself in a marriage and it's also possible to find yourself in a divorce
* I am NOT an advocate for divorce. I do believe that marriage is eternal and in some ways (because of our children) there will always be a part of me eternally tied to my (ex) husband. In our marriage I lost myself and the dreams I had. I lost the person I was trying to become at 21 and at 29 I had become my husband's. I did what he wanted me to do, I forgave when I was supposed to, I ignored what I thought would make him mad and the minute I decided I wanted to do something for myself....everything unraveled, him included. After the divorce I spent a year re-learning who I was as a woman and along the way have found a gift of empowerment and my purpose. It was trapped in the marriage and I couldn't see it.
10) Silence is not submission
* I think one thing women should learn to do is be silent during times of turmoil and storms. There are many battles that aren't for us. They belong to God and it takes a great deal of courage and strength to shut our mouths, pray and let HIM do the fighting for you. There have been multiple fleshly accounts I have wanted to speak out about (this is not to say I haven't done my fair share of fleshly vents...I am human), however, I am silent about more things than most would know. I don't address certain issues because in the end, "you can't reason with crazy."
Monday, May 16, 2016
The Mother of All Posts
Mother's Day was Sunday.
We set aside this day to acknowledge mothers in all their forms and abilities. We are reminded of absent mothers, new mothers, single mothers, mothers who lost babies, babies who lost mothers. I have been sitting on the concept for this post because I wanted to remove as much personal emotion as possible. I tend to be an angry writer sometimes and when that happens, I don't necessarily make sense. Then I remembered: this is what I do. I write emotionally. I pride myself on writing directly from my soul, a place where words seem to navigate themselves directly from my core and lunge to my fingertips. I am fully aware that a blog, mine in particular, is a place of opinion, freedom and unfortunately judgement. I'm willingly opening myself up to be judged. There are times I move in silence, just kind of sit back and watch, but this year I made a personal vow to not allow myself to take too many things to heart, be more laid back, and most importantly "Don't get walked on." It's a work in progress. I'm naturally a planner (which hasn't really let up much) and when something crashes into my plans you might as well have dumped pudding into my bra and forced me to go meet the President. I'm a little more than a wreck trying to adjust.
With that said, I feel like I've been doing a pretty great job adjusting to some of the "unplanned" moments life has thrown at me. With one exception. So here is where the disclaimer comes. Before I continue writing:
1) I know this is a public forum. It's open for anyone to read, I know this. I also know that there are people who are unaware of my blog and wouldn't know how to access this page.
2) I know that what I am about to write is solely MY opinion.
3) I know that I am still a baby in this whole co-parenting thing and when it comes to "sharing" my children and not having them all the time
4) I know this is going to ruffle some feathers
5) Before my divorce I was in my children's lives every day
6) It takes time to adjust to life and we all need to remember this
Here it goes:
I don't know if there is a line or ever will be a line with the new woman in my children's lives. There are moments where I feel we have a joint understanding of who she is to them and what is/is not appropriate and then suddenly I'm exposed to a post or picture via third party and I'm forced to deal with all these emotions I didn't know I would ever have. She's pregnant now. (With my ex's third child). She claims my children as her own so this would be "her fourth." It's been more than difficult having to handle myself with grace and poise as I hear her tell people that she doesn't care what gender she has because she "already has two girls and a boy." I know. Realistically, if they're having a baby together they (my ex and kids) will be bound to her forever and YES I would rather her love my children than hate them and treat them poorly. However, this doesn't change the pain I feel in my heart when I hear her call my son her son, give him a nickname his father and I agreed we didn't want people to call him when we named him, or refer to herself as their mother. It's not because I'm possessive about my role, it's because I feel honored that God gave me that role. I went through hell to be their mama. He gifted me with those two children. He molded them perfectly in my womb. He tore my body apart so that they could give back to the world and now, here....there's another woman who seems to not even recognize my relevance. It's not completely her fault. She does what she's been allowed to do. My ex grants her permission and the "power" to behave certain ways and honestly my compliance is allowing it as well. I'm constantly in a mental battle trying to survive run-ins or being treated poorly by opposite parties.
By no means am I trying to make myself a victim here, just trying to gain perspective and continue transparency. Many times I try to put myself in my ex or his girlfriend's shoes. How would I want my kids to interact with the man I'm seeing? How do I desire my freedom of love to be accepted? For almost two years I've been alone in all this. Attending functions at my ex's family's home so that my kids can still maintain their incredible relationship with their family and so that I don't lose out on time with them. I've allowed myself to be injured and my heart to be hurt so that my kids don't have to feel it. I've apologized multiple times to people who I don't feel deserved it and waited for mends to be made from them. A wait that has never ended.
Like I said in my points, I know this (invisible) blog may ruffle feathers, but it's how I feel currently. These are emotions I've been trying to navigate for almost two years (silently) and have seemed to only make slow progress.
So.
Stepmoms.
Stepdads.
Co-parenting aficianados.
Perspective?
We set aside this day to acknowledge mothers in all their forms and abilities. We are reminded of absent mothers, new mothers, single mothers, mothers who lost babies, babies who lost mothers. I have been sitting on the concept for this post because I wanted to remove as much personal emotion as possible. I tend to be an angry writer sometimes and when that happens, I don't necessarily make sense. Then I remembered: this is what I do. I write emotionally. I pride myself on writing directly from my soul, a place where words seem to navigate themselves directly from my core and lunge to my fingertips. I am fully aware that a blog, mine in particular, is a place of opinion, freedom and unfortunately judgement. I'm willingly opening myself up to be judged. There are times I move in silence, just kind of sit back and watch, but this year I made a personal vow to not allow myself to take too many things to heart, be more laid back, and most importantly "Don't get walked on." It's a work in progress. I'm naturally a planner (which hasn't really let up much) and when something crashes into my plans you might as well have dumped pudding into my bra and forced me to go meet the President. I'm a little more than a wreck trying to adjust.
With that said, I feel like I've been doing a pretty great job adjusting to some of the "unplanned" moments life has thrown at me. With one exception. So here is where the disclaimer comes. Before I continue writing:
1) I know this is a public forum. It's open for anyone to read, I know this. I also know that there are people who are unaware of my blog and wouldn't know how to access this page.
2) I know that what I am about to write is solely MY opinion.
3) I know that I am still a baby in this whole co-parenting thing and when it comes to "sharing" my children and not having them all the time
4) I know this is going to ruffle some feathers
5) Before my divorce I was in my children's lives every day
6) It takes time to adjust to life and we all need to remember this
Here it goes:
I don't know if there is a line or ever will be a line with the new woman in my children's lives. There are moments where I feel we have a joint understanding of who she is to them and what is/is not appropriate and then suddenly I'm exposed to a post or picture via third party and I'm forced to deal with all these emotions I didn't know I would ever have. She's pregnant now. (With my ex's third child). She claims my children as her own so this would be "her fourth." It's been more than difficult having to handle myself with grace and poise as I hear her tell people that she doesn't care what gender she has because she "already has two girls and a boy." I know. Realistically, if they're having a baby together they (my ex and kids) will be bound to her forever and YES I would rather her love my children than hate them and treat them poorly. However, this doesn't change the pain I feel in my heart when I hear her call my son her son, give him a nickname his father and I agreed we didn't want people to call him when we named him, or refer to herself as their mother. It's not because I'm possessive about my role, it's because I feel honored that God gave me that role. I went through hell to be their mama. He gifted me with those two children. He molded them perfectly in my womb. He tore my body apart so that they could give back to the world and now, here....there's another woman who seems to not even recognize my relevance. It's not completely her fault. She does what she's been allowed to do. My ex grants her permission and the "power" to behave certain ways and honestly my compliance is allowing it as well. I'm constantly in a mental battle trying to survive run-ins or being treated poorly by opposite parties.
By no means am I trying to make myself a victim here, just trying to gain perspective and continue transparency. Many times I try to put myself in my ex or his girlfriend's shoes. How would I want my kids to interact with the man I'm seeing? How do I desire my freedom of love to be accepted? For almost two years I've been alone in all this. Attending functions at my ex's family's home so that my kids can still maintain their incredible relationship with their family and so that I don't lose out on time with them. I've allowed myself to be injured and my heart to be hurt so that my kids don't have to feel it. I've apologized multiple times to people who I don't feel deserved it and waited for mends to be made from them. A wait that has never ended.
Like I said in my points, I know this (invisible) blog may ruffle feathers, but it's how I feel currently. These are emotions I've been trying to navigate for almost two years (silently) and have seemed to only make slow progress.
So.
Stepmoms.
Stepdads.
Co-parenting aficianados.
Perspective?
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