Ten

My husband and I just celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary a few days ago.

Ten. whole. years.

It's kind of amazing when you think about it.

When I was a young girl, I pictured myself finding the "man of my dreams", getting married, being madly in love, and spending every day in wedded bliss for the rest of my life.

What a found was a somewhat scrawny teenage boy who made my heart race when he looked in my eyes, who made me laugh until my belly hurt with his ridiculous antics, and who was so completely opposite in many ways from that "dream" I had in my mind.

Love is a crazy thing. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. I thought my husband was really cute and really funny, but marriage material? That wasn't on my mind. It wasn't because I was 17. I could have sworn to you at 15 that I was going to marry the guy I was dating. He was nice, and smart, and safe. But Robert was spontaneous, and incautious, and a whole lot of fun. Picturing a serious future with him wasn't my initial thought. He just really made me happy.

Turns out, I fell in love. And day after day, we grew closer together until it became so clear that we wanted to spend every day together. For a month, for a year, for a decade and beyond.

On March 1st, 2008 I married that man that was but a boy when we met a few years before, and really, at 19 and 20, we still weren't nearly as adult as we thought we were at the time.

Choosing to walk side by side with someone for the remainder of your days is a pretty incredible decision. And when you're barely adults, the remainder of your days is going to be a very long time.

When we stood there in a little church on the west side of town, we said our vows, and I believe we meant them. But I don't believe we truly understood them, not the way we do now.
As you grow older and you experience life as a married couple, the meaning behind those words spoken becomes much more clear. You start to understand that "for richer or poorer" isn't just speaking about money. It means that you choose each other, even when that possibly means letting go of some other things. It means that there are sacrifices to be made and you make them for the greater good of each other. You realize that "in sickness and in health" isn't always concerning physical things or referring to when you grow old and frail. It means embracing your spouse during a bout of depression, learning to cope with their anxiety, and fighting their demons and addictions alongside them. You realize that "until death do us part" doesn't just mean for a very long time. It means that every day that you are waking and breathing, you are choosing to love your spouse the way they need to be loved. It means cherishing a past, working hard in the present, and creating a future together.

We all say the same things when talking about our spouses. We know we love them tremendously, and we say things like "I couldn't live with you." or "You're everything to me."
In all honesty, we repeat those cliche phrases because it's just too hard to put what we really feel into words.

I know I could live without Robert and he could live without me. Neither of our existences would cease if the other was gone. What I really feel is this: I know that either us living our lives without the other is an option. And I know that I truly do not want that. I know that, while my life without him would go on, it would be a struggle. It would be heartbreaking. And it would be a lot more boring.

I know that there are other things in my life that mean a great deal to me: my boys, my friends, my family, my interests, my desires. Robert isn't *everything* in my life. But the truth is: He is intertwined into everything. He is part of all those things I mentioned and more. And without him as part of those things, a huge piece of the puzzle would be missing.

So many things have happened in ten years--I couldn't begin to describe them or list them. We have changed quite a bit but there are parts of those 17 year old kids with stars in their eyes that linger on.
There are many ways that I can express my love for my husband, my appreciation for our marriage and partnership, and my admiration for all we've accomplished and created together. But none of it would be adequate. So I will spend the next ten years, and the ten after that, and the ten after that...and so on..showing him in all the ways I know how.

I've Been Thinking

It's 1am and I'm exhausted.
It's 1am and I'm ignoring my burning eyes and my heavy limbs.
It's 1am and I'm avoiding sleep.
More accurately, I'm avoiding the quiet that comes before the sleep I wish I could dive directly into.
I just finished The Office series finale for the 50th+ time and I'm starting over at Episode 1. I'm browsing Facebook. I'm playing Candy Crush. Because I know when I stop, it all begins.

When I turn off the distractions, and the lights and words and sounds leave my brain, they will free up space and that space cannot sit empty. That space will be filled with worry and fear and discontentment.

When all is dark and still, my brain becomes a shoreline on which waves of thoughts will break. First they begin as ripples but eventually they turn to rolling seas and tsunamis and I'm drowning.

I'm thinking of things I regret doing and saying and so many more things I regret not doing and saying. I am a coward and anxiety is the yellow paint I bathe myself in at night and generously reapply by day.

I'm thinking of all the ways I fall short and all the ways I'll continue to fail.
I'm thinking of how much I want to be different. I want to be peaceful, and graceful, and free. I want to be a perfect, patient, exemplary mother and wife. I want to be thin, and beautiful, and funny, and talented...and not crazy.
I want to be wanted.
I'm thinking how could anyone want me around? I'm thinking I'm a burden.
I'm thinking of my heart's desires and will they ever be fulfilled? My desperate longing is but a flippant passing thought to someone else.
I'm thinking I have no control.
I'm thinking I'm angry about that, helpless, scared.
I'm thinking my heartache is irrelevant.
I'm thinking my feelings are insignificant, pathetic, redundant, overwhelming, confusing, ignored, forgotten, discarded.

I'm thinking of how my bed feels like the most comfortable, secure place in the world when the morning sky is gray and dewy or in the afternoon when golden rays fall scattered across the floor, but at night it feels like a prison.
It may as well be nails or bricks; I may as well be in chains, with the way my body trembles and sweats and rebels.

It's 115am and ten years have gone by in the last quarter hour.
I'm spinning and falling and I just want to land.
I want to collapse and be absorbed by the bed beneath me and rest but there is no rest.

I'm thinking I've brought this on myself.
I'm thinking I can get five solid hours if I fall asleep right now, no four and a half, four and fifteen minutes.
I'm thinking tomorrow I'm going to be dragging my feet.
I'm thinking I just want to be normal. What is normal?
I'm thinking I'm definitely going to call the therapist tomorrow...or the next day...sometime this week, I swear.
I'm thinking I'm so hard to live with. Am I so hard to love?
I'm thinking about praying but I'm thinking no one's listening.
I'm thinking about that time in 4th Grade and that big event next week and the pile of laundry I can't seem to make disappear.
I'm thinking my cat is staring at something, what if it's a bug, will bugs be all over me in my sleep?
I'm thinking about my kids growing too quickly. Do they know how much I love them? Do they know they are my sun? Do I do enough, and how can I possibly be enough? Why isn't their love and existence enough to keep the dark spots in my brain illuminated?
I'm thinking I have so much light in my life and I'm doing myself an injustice.
I'm thinking everything will seem better in the morning.
I'm thinking morning is just a couple hours away.
I'm thinking of all the fresh tasks that will be on my list when the new day arrives.
I'm thinking shut up and go to sleep, damn it.

I'm thinking, "I wish there was a way to stop thinking."

Goodnight.

Feelings (and the push-back against them).

I've been wanting to post about this particular topic for awhile now, but it's taken me some time to organize my thoughts, and I still can't promise that this won't be all over the place.

In the last several years we've seen a movement of sorts in our country--one of tolerance, one of de-stigmatizing, one of equality, one of expressiveness.

And of course, because of that, we've seen a push-back against those things. We've seen a push-back against feelings. Now, I know you're already rolling your eyes, but hear me out.

I know we've all seen instances where it seems being offended is more in-style than anything, and we've all laughed and rolled our eyes at the Hugh Mongous joke that being triggered has grown to be.

But as with everything, there are people who overreact. There are always people who will exploit certain causes for their personal gain. There are always people who will take things too far. There are always people who will fabricate injustice for attention. There are always people who will riot and turn violent. In some cases they are laughable. In other cases they are scary.
But these people are not the majority.

The majority of the people who are fighting for gender and racial equality, who are LGBTQ and allies, who wear safety pins on their shirts and advocate for safe spaces at universities--we simply want others to feel okay being themselves. We simply want the ability to be ourselves, as well, without judgment or fear. We want equal opportunities for people of all genders, races, sexual orientations, and religious beliefs. We want people to know that if they need help or a listening ear, they can come to us and get just that without fear or discrimination or punishment or judgment.

But there is a large number who believe that we're moving in the wrong direction. They believe that we're enabling each other and the next generation. They see our push for equality as confusing and threatening. They believe that our show of vulnerability and our genuine expression of feelings is a weakness that will leave us powerless, helpless, and useless.

I can see why that would be the initial response. But is there any merit to that feeling? To answer that, let's take a look at our history as a society.

Many times when there has been a surge of equal rights and freedoms in our country, there has been a push-back.

For example, after slavery was abolished, it was still years before black men were given the right to vote, and an entire century before segregation was outlawed.
A century. Let that sink in.
Even now, the KKK, white nationalists, and neo-nazi groups still exist. Which means that there are still people who fear that allowing black people to experience the same rights and freedoms as whites is a bad idea. There are still people who don't understand that your personal  rights only go as far as they can before infringing on someone else's.

When segregation was outlawed, there was a large group of people that fought against it for fear that allowing people of color to mingle with whites would lead to more rape and violence.
To this day, people of color are systematically discriminated against, to the point of needing to fear for their lives while going about their daily activities. They have yet to experience the privilege and freedom that goes along with understanding that you will be judged based on your actions, and not your appearance, or that you can walk into a room and be trusted and acknowledged, or that you can feel safe walking down the road or driving your vehicle to and from school/work.

Just this year alone, we have seen a very similar mindset from many people concerning Muslims, the trans community, and undocumented immigrants.

History is repeating itself. And while many of us are fighting to ensure that it takes a different path than it has in the past, we are watching many people justify their fear by pretending that they aren't the ones who are afraid at all. People are fighting against the BLM movement, claiming that racism no longer exists. If you think racism no longer exists, please scroll back up and read my last couple paragraphs.
People are mocking the idea of safe spaces, inclusion, and tolerance.

Most of us have seen this floating around our Facebook feeds:

The general idea is that people should be a lot tougher, a lot stronger. The idea is that if, at 18, people can go to war and face the possibility of death, they shouldn't be hurt by words. People should be able to stuff those feelings away, or not feel them at all, because words don't do any real damage.

But here's the thing...those boys who stormed the beaches of Normandy came back (if they came back at all) to a country they didn't know how to belong in. Many of them faced physical injury or PTSD that they had to live with for the rest of their lives. 

Why is that something that we would rather see our sons and daughters go through than face the fact that they might be hurt by words? Why is it mutually exclusive? Can you not be someone who accepts their true feelings and doesn't hide them, but also faces their fears when necessary for growth?

Is it more damaging to admit that something someone did or said hurt you or to feel the pressure of pretending that you can't be hurt by anything?

Words do hurt..for some more than others. And if people want to be more cognitive of the things they say and do and the effect that may have on others, why would we fight against that?

Let's take a look at a scary statistic:

In the past few decades, domestic terrorism has been on the rise in our country. The majority of domestic terrorist attacks are committed by white, US-born males. 

The majority of serial killers share the same demographics. 

What this says is that generations of white (often "Christian") men are committing mass murder in our country. And they have been for decades. They aren't the only ones who commit these types of crimes, but they make up the largest portion. 

And most of them have a history of abuse. Whether that be parental abuse, sexual abuse, or severe bullying. 

So that means that we're doing something wrong. As a society, for generations, we have been doing something wrong with this group of people. It is no longer a coincidence at this point. 

From a mental health perspective, we know that "hurt people hurt people." We know that boys are raised from a very young age to stifle their feelings. They are taught that there is only one acceptable emotion for them to show--anger. There is only one thing they should be aiming for--power.

They are told to suck it up. Stop being a cry baby. Stop acting like a girl. Toughen up. Grow a pair. 

Stop feeling. Stop being hurt. Stop being sad. Stop letting anyone overpower you. Take control. 

And in what why can they take control? With anger. With violence. 

And it's not just men. Women are made to feel like if we display too many emotions, we are crazy. We are told that we are weak. Yet we are called cold and unnatural when we don't show enough emotion. 

We are all told that if we suffer from depression, anxiety, BPD, or any other mental disorder that we must get a grip, get over it, stop allowing it to control our lives. We hide it and we ignore it because getting help for it means admitting that we are flawed and weak and less than. 

This doesn't work. We cannot repeat the same actions that have broken us as a society and expect them to now do the healing. It doesn't work that way. 

So when my son is bullied, I will tell him to stand up for himself. I will tell him not to allow someone to physically hurt him. I will make sure that he knows he can take control of the situation at any time. But I will also tell him that the bully is probably looking for a way to control something because he feels out of control in other aspects of his life. I will tell him that many times, the people who are angry and hurtful have been treated in the same way and they need someone to show them that there are other ways to treat people.

If my sons are crying, I will not call them girls. I will not tell them to quit being a sissy. If they are hurt, in pain, or feel betrayed, I will validate their feelings and help them find solutions to their problems.

If college students need a safe space, I won't mock them. I'll encourage them to use it. I'll be glad to see other people surrounding them as allies. I'll be happy to know that there are designated areas where people can go to express themselves without fear. I'll smile to know people are working to make this world a more open, available, and inclusive place. 

I won't disregard the feelings of people of color because I know that racism does still exist and I want to be part of the healing. 

I won't care what bathrooms people want to use. I won't assume that because you are trans, you are a sexual deviant. 

I will fight for your right to have feelings and express them. I may not always agree with them. I may see certain things and say to myself "that's too much". I will still acknowledge that there are certain groups of people that will always take advantage but they do not reflect the majority of people. 

I know that knowledge is power. And coming to terms with the way you feel, finding healthy coping mechanisms, and allowing others to do the same is how we truly become knowledgeable about ourselves and others. And in that there is strength. 

I will never make someone feel like they are pathetic, weak, or helpless for trying to make this world a kinder, more tolerant, more peaceful place. 

I truly believe that we can be strong, be assertive, and contribute to society while growing in ourselves, acknowledging who we truly are, and embracing others. Seeking better mental health and more tolerance for people of all walks of life can only make our world a better place. Imagine being able to express yourself--to say I am hurting, I am upset, I am angry, I am sad, I need help--without the fear of someone thinking you're too much, you're too weak, or you're too needy. We can only improve from here, so let's work together to do just that. 

The 4:30 Hour

It comes creeping--the feeling of sadness that I can't quite shake. It starts so small, just a tiny seed of a word or an action that isn't meant to be much, but immediately begins rooting itself in my heart. With each passing moment, I feel the roots tightening and growing. The plant begins to sprout. My anxiety is its water, my inability to snap out of it, its sun.

In the daylight, I am busy. I am surrounded by the things that I love. I tell myself to forget it. I don't want to be like this.

I can push the feeling aside. I try to ignore the rapping of my mind, the thoughts that are there behind the door threatening to burst through.

I know it's coming. I tell myself this is nothing. I tell myself that I'm being a fool. I tell myself that I am ungrateful. I tell myself that I'm taking all I have for granted. I tell myself that if I can't get over things and move on that is no one's problem but mine. I'm responsible for my thoughts and actions. It's no one else's burden to bear.

But I so desperately want someone to make it okay. I want approval. I want validation. I want love and company. I want to know that I'm not seen as a burden. I want to know that I'm valued and that I'm worth it, I'm worth the trouble, I'm worth all of this. How could I be worth all of this? How could anyone see past the storm inside me, sail the raging seas of my emotions, and continue to love me entirely? I want to know it. I want to be absolutely sure of it.

But I want to be alone. I deserve to be alone.
No people, no phone, no TV, no books, no lights.

I just need to go to sleep. If I can turn my brain off for a few hours, I can wake refreshed. I can have another chance at renewal.

But my mind spins. My body lies completely still, statuesque, barely breathing. Yet my mind is running, panting, tripping, nearly collapsing until it catches its footing and begins racing again. It's not fair. I want to scream. I want to cry. But I just lie there, staring at the ceiling or the blackness of my eyelids and wondering why I am broken this way.
There are too many things to think about. Too many things could go wrong. Too many things have already gone wrong and I refuse to let myself forget them.

If I can sleep, if I can just turn it off for awhile, I will be fine.
And I find rest in a bottle of melatonin and a glass of hot peppermint tea.

But hours later, I'm awakened by a soft, sweet voice. "Mama, can you fill my water cup?" He says "Be quiet, Xander is already asleep." And I chuckle at that word already because it's 4:30am and the world is already asleep, and I think I would certainly hope so.

I have every reason to be thankful. I have every reason to smile. And I tuck one of my greatest treasures into his Star Wars sleeping bag and stumble my way back to bed in the dark.

The dark. And the silence. And every reason to be happy and content and every unhappy and discontent thought circling my mind.
I tell myself to stop it. Why am I suddenly thinking of something that happened 8 years ago? Why am I allowing myself to relive hurtful moments and to reopen doors? And I know these doors have never truly closed, and I know these wounds have never truly healed, but I'm okay, aren't I? My God, look at how okay I am. It's over. It's been over.
But what about now? Aren't there so many reasons to feel inadequate now? I don't need to think of 8 years ago or high school or second grade because I have plenty of reasons to hate myself right now.

I don't want to. With all my heart and soul I don't want to. I want to let those thoughts go. I want to stand tall and confident in myself and my worth and my ability to love and be loved. I have so much love. Why isn't it enough? I feel guilty because it should be enough to keep me from ever feeling this way. How can I feel empty and sad when my heart is so full? How can I be on top of the world one day and drowning beneath black waters the next? The guilt pushes me into the darkness again.
I want to go back to sleep. I want to make my mind as silent as the house is at this hour. I want to drift peacefully into slumber and wake just as peacefully. Peace. I want to find peace.

But it's the 4:30 hour and I just can't do that. I lie awake, eyes shut, mind's eye wide open, tormented until my alarm goes off an hour later. I start my day. I never went back to sleep, I never fully woke.

Have I said I don't want to be like this?
I know you don't believe me.
But I really, really don't. I can't say it enough.

Chasing Dreams

The thing about "chasing dreams" is that it is actually a chase. You have to run full force at what you want, or else, it gets too far away from you.

I have always had the passion for writing. I got my first poem published when I was in 2nd grade, and I knew then that I wanted to have more and more of my writing in print. I knew that I wanted to use my passion to influence others. But, here I am at 28 and I'm still nowhere near where I want to be.

I notice that oftentimes I get geared up to make something happen. I commit to doing what I need to do to "get my name out there". But then, life happens. I find myself going through the motions. Of course, I have two beautiful kids and a husband that need me and I devote a lot of my time to them. And I devote time to keeping the household running smoothly. And then, I devote time to developing another career so that I can have a day job that helps pay the bills. And when all is said and done, I don't have a lot of "me time" and I find that I spend it watching TV and being lazy. It's become a bad habit because now that I do have a little more time to myself than I did when the kids were babies, I still don't spend that time being as productive as I'd like.

That being said, my passion for writing is unwavering. And no matter how many distractions there are, I always come back to it. It's been a constant in my life for as long as I can remember. It is therapy to me. But to have the thing I am passionate about become the thing that produces financial stability for my family, to have my works recognized and share my passion with others--that is my dream. And I am chasing it, even if I'm not running as fast as I'd like to be.
This week I have begun working with a friend to illustrate some of my children's books. I am so excited to see my ideas come to fruition, and I hope that this gives me a leg up when submitting to publishers.

I have also gotten back into the groove of submitting poetry for contests and publication. Even in situations that feel like a long shot, I know I need to try, because trying and failing is better than not trying at all.

In looking for some of my best poems, I began thinking about what writing does for me and what it means to me, which inspired a poem of its own.

So here I am, still creating..still trying..still chasing. This is so integral, so important in my life. And I won't give up. :) 

The Empty Pew and That Pesky "R" word

Think about this question:

"What's your religion?"

Have you ever been asked that? More than likely you have. And it seems like such a simple question, as if you could answer it with one term and that would be it. All done. 

I'm Christian. I'm Muslim. I'm Buddhist. I'm Atheist. 

But it doesn't truly answer anything. Maybe it tells the person asking the absolute basic beliefs that you have, but it doesn't tell them anything about your relationship with God and our universe. It doesn't give them any kind of glimpse into your heart and mind. 

And that's why you get people who say "I'm not religious, I'm spiritual." And I understand what they are getting at. Some people despise religion, and honestly I'm not that fond of it myself. Spirituality speaks to a divine connection. Religion outlines a set of rules and regulations. 

I'm not often asked about my religion, though. Most people in my life at this point know me well enough that they believe they already know the answer. I usually get this question instead: Are you still going to church?

It's a check-in. Are you still doing what we all believe we must be doing in order to stay on the straight and narrow? 

And I often feel I have to skirt around that question. I feel I need to answer that question with a list of excuses and justifications. 

But the short answer is no. No I'm not still going to church. And no, I don't plan on joining one any time soon. And no, I don't feel guilty about it, even though (if you're the one asking), you probably think I should. 

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This morning I came across an article posted by a friend on my Facebook feed. She captioned it "Here's the dumbest thing you'll read today." So, of course, I had to check it out. And I found myself becoming angry as I read it. Not because I'm extremely passionate about the heroins mentioned in this article. Not even because I'm fired up about women being referred to repeatedly as "the weaker sex". But because of the author's apparent religious overtones and his firm belief in belittling an entire gender in the name of God. 

"Look at all these times that the Bible equates failing epically to being just like a woman", the article (pretty much) says. 

And while I know that many believe that a woman is to be submissive (and others take this way too seriously), I also know that this man is one of millions of people and his opinion isn't exactly fact. 

But I just kept thinking enough is enough.

Degrading others, being judgmental, being selfish and greedy, being dismissive, being angry, being hateful--all in the name of religion. It's enough. 

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My 6 year old has become obsessed with natural disasters. A couple years ago our home flooded and it was very traumatic for him. A couple of months ago, tornadoes touched down near our home and we've had several tornado warnings and watches in the last few months. His terror of them has turned into a deep curiosity and I love that about him. Knowledge is power and he wants to know all he can. 

He wants to know all he can about everything. And just the other day, he says to me, "Mom, why were tornadoes made?" 

I gave him the simple run down of how a tornado is formed but that wasn't enough for him. So, I prepared myself for a scientific lecture and before I was a sentence or two in he said "No, I mean..why does God make things that kill people? God made everything right? So why would he make tornadoes and hurricanes?" 

Well, to be honest, kiddo...I really don't know. And that's just what I told him. I can explain the science behind the weather all he wants but I can't answer that question because I don't have the answers myself. Why does God allow tragedies to happen? We believe it's all part of a grand plan but how do you explain to a 1st grader that God thinks it's for the greater good for these 100 innocent people to die this one day? I wasn't ready to travel down that rabbit hole so I just told him I really wasn't sure. 

Just days before, he struck up another conversation about God that I wasn't prepared for. I told you this kid was super curious. I'm not even sure what got us on the subject but he says to me "I want to find out as much as I can about Heaven and about Hell so I can decide which one I want to go to. I guess Heaven because Hell sounds really scary. And the Devil lives there and he's mean."

I was completely taken off guard. Where did he even learn about the devil and Hell? He sure as hell didn't hear about it from me or his dad (pun intended). He told me people were talking about it at school. 

My little curious, inquisitive boy is also very sensitive. And before the conversation was over he was asking me what he could do to make sure he didn't go to Hell. He was crying. He was afraid, And I was angry. Not with him, not at all. But with the reality that I was going to have to enter into this conversation with him, unprepared, and unwilling to say or do something that was going to upset his little heart. 

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I grew up in church. All my family and friends were Christian or Catholic. Mostly Christian. We lived in a very small town and attended the same very small Baptist church that my grandfather was a deacon at before he died. I loved my church family. I have a lot of good memories surrounding that church, and some bad, but that's for another day. 

I learned all about Jesus from the day I was born. I loved God. I was happy. But I was also very aware that I was stained. At 5 years old, I made the decision to "be saved". What was I needing saved from? A life destined to end in the fiery pits of Hell. Without praying for Jesus to take up residence in my heart, I would be lost. No child wants to be lost. And, I really wanted to be able to have grape juice and crackers with everyone else so I went for it. 

I never felt like I was pressured into that decision. Neither of my parents were even present when I announced that I wanted to say that prayer. Most people at that church genuinely cared about me and were filled with joy that I would be so moved to seek God at such a young age. 

And there's nothing wrong with developing a relationship with God so young. There's nothing wrong with loving him and being grateful. It's a very endearing thing. 

But I remember very clearly that love and gratefulness wasn't all I felt. I also felt guilt. And fear. And it drove me to do or not do a lot of things. The guilt and the fear was what motivated most of my choices, not the love. Of course I loved all my friends and family..I would have with or without a relationship with God. But I knew about Hell. And I knew that sin was what brought it on. And I also knew that it was nearly impossible not to sin. 

Every time I got sick, I thought I was being punished. I remember vividly sitting on the toilet with a stomach bug crying out to God--not to heal me, but to forgive me. Forgive me for whatever it is I did that made You punish me this way. I was taught in Sunday school that God wouldn't hear my prayers if I was sinful. Sin was like a ceiling over me that blocked me from God. So each night when I prayed, I would first say "forgive me for all my sins", so I could open those doors of communication. I knew that I had probably done so many sinful things that I couldn't even list them all. I lied to my mom. I didn't do my homework on time. I stayed up late and watched The Golden Girls when I was supposed to be in bed. I fought with my brother. I ate two pieces of candy instead of the one I was told I could have. I was doomed. 

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Throughout my childhood and teenage years, I stopped going to church. I still considered myself a Christian, I still believed in God and Jesus' sacrifice. I just didn't do the whole Sunday/Wednesday thing. And I was fine with that. But in my adulthood I discovered a church and a group of people that made me question where I was at in my faith. I believed I wasn't good enough. I started trying to take the Bible very seriously, word for word. Although my church was very vocal about it not being about rules but about your faith, I felt in order to establish faith you had to follow the rules. I went to church a few times a week. I read my Bible and journaled daily. I prayed all the time. I stopped using the occasional cuss word. I stopped laughing at or making crude jokes. I tried to tell myself I felt a certain way or that even though I didn't feel it, I should do/be it because that's what would get me closer to God. I was going through one of the hardest times in my life and I was desperately seeking Him. I just knew if I did everything He called me to do in the Bible that I'd feel the connection, I'd have the intimate relationship and it'd all be worth it. But I felt more alone than ever. Not only did I not have some miraculous, comforting feeling of truly knowing God, but I barely knew myself. I'd argue points with people that I didn't even truly believe...maybe I was trying to convince them, maybe I was trying to convince myself. 

After some time, I just stopped. It wasn't a specific choice but I just allowed myself to not feel like I needed to jump through every hoop and follow blindly and go go go and do do do in order to truly call myself a Christian. 

I moved away from where that church was and when I no longer had people to ask me where I was on Sunday, I stopped worrying about it. If God was gonna show up for me, it was going to have to be in my own house. I was tired. And I was disappointed. Never had I tried so hard to pull myself close to Him and I just didn't feel it. I wanted to, with all my heart. But I didn't.  

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Ever since I threw myself completely into "being a good Christian", and the subsequent fallout, I've just kind of been floating around in a confused space in the middle. I believe in God. I take most of what the Bible says or what we have translated/interpreted it to say over the years with a grain of salt. I believe that above all else, we're called to love one another. What else is there? If we do those two things, doesn't most of everything else kind of fall into place? I love singing certain hymns. I am in awe over beautiful sunsets and my children's smiles and I believe He created them.  I'm not big on rules and regulations. I don't believe that God insists on me (or any of us) denying ourselves happiness to establish some kind of merit. I think he wants us to love one another. If the thing that makes you happy hurts someone else, then don't do it. If it hurts no one, then by all means, go for it. I try to see God looking at me as I look at my children. I love when they are sweet to each other, forgiving, helpful. It frustrates me to see them fight. It pains me to see them hurt each other. But it's never going to bring me to the point of shutting them out--it wouldn't matter if they did it one time or a million times.

I don't want them to be motivated by guilt and fear. You might think "You can't teach Heaven and not teach Hell." But oh, I will. When they are older, they will discover all they need to know to form their own opinion. But right now? I do not want them to be pressured by those three Rs: rules, regulations, and religion. 

I want them to be motivated by love. I want them to know one thing of God: that He gives love and he inspires love. I want them to be kind because it makes their hearts smile, not because they fear something unkind happening to them. I want them to give because their hearts yearn to share, not because they fear that they will lose everything. 

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Right now, the pew where I once sat is empty but my mind and heart are full. I am trying to learn to love God again. I am trying to learn who God really is. Not some cloud-faced genie in the sky, not some authoritative boss whose approval I will never earn--something in between. Something more genuine, something simpler.  I'm trying to find out who He is and who I am at the same time. It's a journey that has taken me a lifetime so far and it may take me the rest of my life. I am ditching the guidelines. In the pit of ceaseless effort and hopeless effect, I'm no longer grasping in the dark for a rope to pull me out. I'm using love as my lantern and digging my own way.


**********Edited to add a note of clarification***********
As I was thinking about this an hour after I published it, I thought "I hope no one takes this the wrong way."
I want to clarify that no one who has been a part of my journey is responsible for my journey. I am quite fond of the way I was raised. My mother is a great woman of faith and I admire her for that, and for teaching me to be humble and to love freely. My family honors their faith by being supportive and loving through all times. My church family as a kid and as an adult was filled with people who were there for me. Especially in my adult years, those people offered great friendship and comfort. My beliefs and my questions are not a reflection of anyone or anything that has been done "wrong", but simply a part of the path I am walking as an individual. I love you all. 

Something as simple as a scrambled egg...

I think, as adults, we all kind of realize at different points how quickly time is passing by. And it seems so cliche to comment on it, but we still do, because it never ceases to take us by surprise.

I was talking with some of my mommy friends the other night about how sometimes, looking back on my kids' baby years makes me slightly sad. It's a bittersweet feeling. I love everything about watching them grow and become who they are today, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss them being small. Those babies they were--they meant the world to me. And the kids they are now do as well. It's just such a indescribable feeling because I'm excited for the future and longing for the past at the same time. I wish I had the ability to scoop those babies up and kiss them one more time. I wish I had the ability to go back in time and savor the moments even more than I already did. I wish I could sit up another night with one of them and instead of thinking about how little sleep I was getting, be thinking about how little time I was going to have with them that small and making the most of it.
But I can't. I can only try to savor each moment now--but is that truly possible?

We hear "live in the moment" as moms, as adults, all the time. It's not simply a parenting thing. We're reminded every day about how quickly the time is passing by us, and how "these are the best days of our lives". We're told that these moments won't ever be relived, so we should embrace them or else we'll find ourselves looking back regretfully at how much we took for granted.
But here's the thing--it's not possible to love every single second of the day. It truly isn't. We are human and we're going to get upset, frustrated, and tired. It's not possible to sit with a sleeping baby in your arms, every night, completely exhausted and not think at all about how much you'd just love to go to sleep for 18 hours straight. It's not possible to never get overwhelmed or upset with the tantrums, with the yelling, with the constant questions.

As a whole, we appreciate the puzzle that is our lives. But that doesn't mean every single piece fills us with joy. And that's okay.

Nostalgia just works to prove to us that these troubling times will soon pass, as well. When we look back on those baby days, we don't remember the feeling of desperation during the sleepless nights and the feelings of complete helplessness during the meltdowns quite like we remember the sweet smell of their baby skin and the gorgeous cooing sound of their laughter. We're not wishing that we could exchange these times for those, we're reminding ourselves that there is no time like the present. We're proving to ourselves that the days are long and the years are so short, and that every moment is a piece of a much bigger, precious, invaluable picture.

So when we stop to think about the "little things" today, we realize that they aren't that little after all.
Just in the last few days, my four year old surprised me by doing a load of laundry all on his own. He asked if he could, I told him yes, and he proceeded to load the washer, place the detergent and fabric softener in, and start the washing cycle all on his own. He was incredibly proud and so was I.

Just a couple of days later, my 6 year old scrambled two eggs for himself and his brother. My husband supervised, of course. But, from start to finish, Goob cracked the eggs, scrambled them, and cooked them all on his own. I bet they were the best tasting eggs he's ever had because he knew that he'd made them with his own hands.

Those are the things that take me completely by surprise and stop me in my tracks. I think about how impossible it is to believe that my two little ones are so independent, so helpful, so grown up. And I realize that, although there are difficult times, when I look back on these days, those are the moments I will remember and bask in. The scrambled eggs and the loads of laundry are this season's baby laughs and unstable toddles. They are the precious moments of seeing them grow and change and shape into the people they are and who they will become.
And it's a gift to be able to realize, in this moment, how groundbreaking those experiences are. It's a gift that only the experiences so far could prepare me for.

I am always living in this moment. And I will do my best to appreciate all that these moments hold, whether it be good, bad, or ugly--it's real. While I hold the past dear to my heart, I will remember that the present is the past in the making and that these days are short and these moments are fleeting. I will go forth, giving myself permission to miss the past, to revel in the present, and to look forward to the future all at once. Because that--something that seems so impossible to feel all together--is what makes this experience so uniquely human.

...And how we put it back together

Last time I posted, I shared some intimate struggles that my husband and I had gone through in our marriage. I also promised that was only the beginning--that I would be back to share a more joyous post about the present of our relationship and how we restored the things that were broken.

I didn't plan on it being so long between posts, but life happens. It's been a bit busy here lately, but I digress.

I want to talk a bit about some of the things I learned during our difficult times; I want to share those things with anyone who wants to hear them, so that they may understand them without having to face the same trials that we did.

So here are the 5 things that I believe are the most important (but perhaps the hardest) lessons to learn for a healthy and happy marriage:

1. Your kids aren't #1
I'm starting with the toughest one. If you don't have kids, this doesn't apply to you now. But it may in the future. And it's better you understand it before ever going down that road. Here's the thing: As parents, we know that our kids really are our number one priority. We know that we love them more than anything in this world, that we would protect them at all costs, and that they fill a place in our hearts that nothing else can fill. But because they are our most prized possessions, we have to understand that doing the best for them doesn't always mean having our universe revolve around them.
My husband and I were married a year when we had our first son. We were young--21. And we were so naive. He worked a lot and we lived away from family and friends. I threw myself completely into motherhood and I quickly lost any and all identity that didn't involve mothering. Part of me begrudged my husband for not being completely taken over by parenthood like I was. But then again, I couldn't relinquish the control of the situation. I wanted his help, but I felt more confident and less guilty doing it all myself. I stopped taking care of myself in so many ways. It wasn't just that a baby takes up so much of your time and energy. I just forgot about and ignored anything else..including my husband. I know he missed me being the way I once was. And I felt so upset that I had given so much of myself away, but at the same time I felt it was what was required of me.
I pride myself on being a good mom. I adore my kids and I adore motherhood. But after 5 years of being nothing but a mom, of losing the desire to focus on myself, my ambitions, my husband or his needs, I realized that my kids needed a healthy mom. And the biggest gift that parents can give their kids is loving each other, cherishing their relationship, and teaching their children that life requires balance. After so long of being a certain way, our life had lost balance. And a year after marriage counseling and bearing all our truths with my husband, I still have a hard time learning how to be mom, wife, daughter, friend..Robin..all at once. But parents, it's imperative.
Remember, you and your spouse are the foundation for your children. You teach them how to love, how to forgive, and how to measure success. Do not be fooled. The nursery may be beautifully decorated, comfortable, and happily played in. But if the foundation is full of cracks, the house is still dangerously close to crumbling.

2. "Date" is a verb, not a noun
We've all heard that you have to make time for dates in a marriage, regardless of how busy we are. And this is true. But I think you can be on a date and still not dating each other. For a long time, my husband and I didn't have a lot of opportunities to date. He was gone a lot of the time and then after we had children, we didn't always have a lot of options for sitters. But when we did, we would do our best to go on dates. Looking back, I can remember dates that were very great--like a day spent at Busch Gardens together. And then I can remember dates that were simply awful--like a day or two of my children staying with my mom and us doing nothing but arguing. The difference is that we began to see date as a thing, rather than as something that we had to actively do. Anyone can go to dinner or a movie. But the outing itself, the time with each other, is not all that matters. Your time together will not work for you, you have to work for it. You have to talk to each other, to continue to learn from each other, to share new experiences, to be open, to re-experience the things that brought you together in the first place. Something that has always been important to us is humor and acting like kids together. When we were going through marriage counseling our counselor suggested that we do something that we remembered doing when we first fell in love. Robert said one of the first times he remembered knowing he loved me was when we went to see Wedding Crashers and laughed our butts off together. We fell in love with the funny sides of each other. So, last year we ordered in and dug Wedding Crashers out of the DVD cabinet. We enjoy racing go-karts or going to amusement parks together. We understand that we need to play together, to laugh, to explore. Spending time alone together isn't enough because it can often lead to expectations that aren't met. You can't put too much emphasis on the time itself; you have to emphasize what you do with that time. Date intentionally.

3. You are not in competition
I know, you're reading this and thinking "duh", but hear me out. I think a lot of us fall into this trap without even realizing it. I can tell you from experience that I have had times in my marriage where I felt jealous of my husband. I have measured myself against his accomplishments and felt that I couldn't add up. His military career and having children young has taken a toll on the amount of time it's taken me to reach my goals. And I believe that at points in our marriage, while I felt like "you get to be doing something", he was feeling like "it must be nice to not have to do anything". You see, what he has done in the military or how quickly he's been able to wrack up college credits or how likely he is to get a job right away after his military career does not negatively reflect on me. And my taking a little longer to get my college degrees and spending most of my time during the last six years being a stay-at-home mom cannot be viewed as inadequate or lazy by my hardworking husband. Because our end goal is the same. We both want the best for our family. We both want to be successful and to watch each other succeed. Regarding marriage, we often hear "you two are a team", and it is so true. You aren't just a team, you are force to be reckoned with. You have the opportunity to have support, a number one fan, a sounding board. You have the ability to be an inspiration. You are the definition of strength in numbers. Do not compare yourselves to one another. Stop feeling sorry for yourself or placing yourself on a pedestal and recognize that you two are working in unison toward a better life. Remember the goals of one another and do what it takes to help the other achieve them. If both parties are determined to live this way, there will be victory for you individually and as a couple/family.

4. Don't be afraid to fight
This sounds counter-intuitive, but it's not. You have to understand something: you cannot be in a thriving relationship and avoid disagreement altogether. You are separate people with separate feelings and separate mindsets. You will bump heads. You have to learn the proper way to fight. If not, your arguments will only bring hurt and fear and you will eventually do all in your power not to argue. But not arguing only means that your voice does not get heard. Your feelings are bottled up and they will eventually come out in all the wrong ways. It becomes an endless, negative cycle. So remember this: you will argue and that's okay. Just know that the goal of an argument is to understand each other and to come out on the other side doing what's best for your marriage. Not what's best for YOU or for HIM/HER, but what's best for your union as a couple. Never use an argument as a medium for belittling each other, for bringing up past hurts, or for making threats. Talk to each other with respect, regardless of the disagreement. Give each other space, if needed, but always revisit the issue. You cannot go through marriage hiding your true feelings. But you must use those feelings as motivation for the betterment of the marriage, which doesn't always mean that you're going to get your way. One person never wins an argument. You either both win, or you both lose. So do "pick your battles", but don't avoid conflict altogether. It will come back to bite you in the butt.

5. Grow together, not apart
Last but definitely not least. I can't tell you how many times I've heard that you should never have to change yourself for someone else. But it's impossible not to change, and it's irresponsible to refuse change when it's necessary. My husband and I got together when we were 17 years old. I just turned 28 a week ago. A decade, more than a third of my life, I have spent with him. Of course I have changed! And, *gasp*, some of those changes have been spurred by him and our marriage. We have both matured. We've changed our outlooks on life more than once, we've expanded our religious beliefs, our political beliefs, our perceptions of success and failure, our opinions on each other and our relationship. Refusing to make any changes for your spouse is not strong and independent, it's selfish and naive. Of course, you cannot compromise your values or your truest beliefs. You cannot bend until you break. But you must grow and you must understand that your spouse is an integral part of that growth. You will change, and you can either choose to use those changes to bring you closer together or allow those changes to tear you apart. Keep your eyes on each other--grow together, as a pair, as an institution. Because change is inevitable. It is the human experience--you will be malleable until the day you die. Embrace it together and enjoy watching your spouse become the finest version of him- or herself.


And there you have it. I realize it's long, as most of my posts are. And yet, there is so much more I could say. I feel like I've been given an extraordinary gift in learning these lessons and having the opportunity to implement them with the love of my life. We all know that marriage is a journey--take that twisty road with its dips and its mountains and learn to love it for exactly what it is.

That time my marriage fell apart...

I'm not sure how to start this post. I know that it's going to be raw, it's going to be intimate, it's going to be difficult to read at times. But I also hope that it's going to be helpful. I hope that it's going to be encouraging. I hope that it's going to be the right amount of honesty and transparency, so that it becomes relatable and impactful.

I'd like to say I could jump right into the purpose of this post (and its sister post, yet to come) without any background, but I can't. As much as this is about the present and the future, it is very much about the past. Our history. My husband and I started dating when we were 17. The weekend after high school graduation, we moved in together. Within the next year, we bought a house together. Shortly thereafter, we were engaged to be married and my husband joined the Navy. Within months we were married and he was gone--off to become a sailor. A few short months later, we were back together and within days we were expecting our first son. Over the course of the next few years, we moved several times, faced three deployments, suffered a miscarriage, and had another son. We piled so much triumph and so much heartbreak into a very short span of time. It would have been impossible to go through all that without it having some effect on our relationship. Over time, the strain of normal marital conflicts became heightened by the somewhat abnormal situation we were in. For years at a time, he was either gone or we were preparing for him to leave. Neither one of us really had time to adjust to being parents, that is, not as a team. We were young, we were naive, we were struggling to keep our heads above water. He'd leave for awhile and when he came back there would be a period of confusion as we settled in. On some level it was like reliving the honeymoon phase over and over. On another level, it was like having an intruder come into your life and rearrange it, just when you thought you had it under control. Just as things began to even out, he'd be gone again and the process would start over. Issues arose between us--I want to say they were your typical issues that you deal with in becoming adults, parents, and learning to live in a life-long partnership. But those issues were never addressed. It seemed wrong to spend any time fighting when he was home, yet without addressing the issues, the distance between us grew and grew until even when he was home, we were miles apart.

In late 2013, he returned from his third and longest deployment. It was a whirlwind for us--we changed duty stations shortly thereafter. We were under a great deal of stress but we were trying to find our new normal. We were both trying to adjust--him to being back to the daily grind, to having two little boys constantly needing him and watching his every move, to being face-to-face with a wife that was overwhelmed and anxious--me to being hundreds of miles away from the family and friends I had at our last duty station, to trying to enjoy having my husband back but feeling terribly alone at the same time.
2014 was by far the most difficult year in our marriage. It seemed like everything that had been building up finally came to a head. He was angry. I was hurt. We were both confused. How had everything gotten so tangled up?
We had made up our minds--the other person was the enemy. We fought daily--big blow up fights. Screaming, someone was always storming out and driving off. I look back and I think about our sweet boys, what we put them through in those moments and I feel a knot in my stomach. We welcomed their daddy home and ushered them into a world of constant chaos. We both had our minds set on retribution. We knew that we weren't innocent, but the other person was definitely more responsible for the pain and discord in our marriage. We waited for each other to "come around" and while we waited, we drifted further and further apart.
I remember one day, I walked into the bathroom to put away a stack of towels and instead of placing them on the shelf, I stuck my face in them and sobbed. I felt, in that moment, that it was no longer a matter of "if", it was a matter of "when". I truly believed my marriage was over.
We'd talked it out a hundred times. I'd prayed. I'd called my mom crying at all hours of the day. I'd sought advice from friends. We even went to marriage counseling. What else could we do? It seemed damaged beyond repair.

One weekend in early November, my mom had taken the boys to give us some time to spend alone. Our date night ended with a huge argument, he left the house and I went to bed crying. The next day we didn't say a word to each other until late in the afternoon. I approached him and said we needed to talk. After talking a short period of time, we both came to the same conclusion: It was time to call it quits. We sat down and began to discuss a plan for the boys and for our finances. Most of that conversation is a blur to me, but I know at one point he said "Well, this is what we both want."
God, those words sounded so foreign. They felt numb and empty and at the same time they cut like a knife. I looked at my husband and said "Is this what you want? Not having you, not being together as a family..that's the last thing I want."
I don't know what it was about that moment but our relationship that had been so murky and muddy for months suddenly seemed crystal clear. We sat and cried together, we hugged, we put on our song and danced and cried some more.
Somewhere along the way we had forgotten that we were working toward the same goal. Somewhere we had forgotten that we were not competitors, but teammates. We were both so concerned with our own hurt feelings that our focus became on fixing the past rather than securing the future. We vowed in that moment that we weren't going to be those people anymore--we were going to hold on to what we had, we were going to fight like hell, and we were going to love more fiercely than we hurt.

We continued counseling and truly put all our efforts into it. We realized that until we were real with ourselves, we could never be real with each other. I'm not going to say it was easy but it was such worthy work. Within a matter of weeks, things were different. Now, some 9 months later, things are worlds apart from what they were last year. Our relationship is stronger and yet more tender than it has ever been. Our love for one another is easier and yet more intentional than it has been in years. I could not be happier and I'm actually thankful for the difficult times we faced. After being in a valley, the mountaintop seems that much more rewarding. I believe I know my husband better than I did before our hard times. I see more of him..I understand him better..I love him to the deepest depths of my heart.

I want to share with you all a bit of insight into how we turned our marriage around--some things I wish I would have known all along but am so very thankful to understand now. But, as you know, I can be long-winded and this is probably enough for one post. Lol.

Here you've seen the history and in my next post you will see the future. To be continued, my friends... :)

The Ever-Changing Depth of Heartbreak

My husband and I were driving home last weekend from taking our boys to visit my mom. I honestly cannot remember what specific topic we were discussing at first, but I know it led to me then saying "You know, I'm always floored by how much different heartbreak becomes as you age. I feel like I was so naive as a teenager." To which he replied, "There are so many things I am still incredibly naive about."

It got me thinking. I recalled being a young girl--a little quirky, happy, friendly, kind of chubby. Awkward would be a good word to describe me. As most tween girls do, I had a crush (a few over the years) and I remember that beautiful, awful, heartsick feeling of knowing that a crush was all it would ever be.
Those feelings were real. I felt them often and I felt them deeply. I remember confiding in my best friend about this boy I liked well through high school. "He'd never go for me. I'm sure he'd pick any other girl in our class over me.", I'd say. I remember pouring out tears over my journal pages as I wrote about feelings that would probably stay between me, my best friend, and that little book. Trust me, I remember.

But looking back, I smile on those times a bit. I giggle at myself. I say to myself "If I had the confidence, I could have just told him I liked him and saved myself the years of trouble." I wonder if then, my heartbreak would have been over and I could have focused on more important things than boys.
The fact is, though, as an adult I've realized that heartbreak doesn't ever go away. It just changes.

I got married at 20 years old and I am now 27. Within weeks of being married, my husband left for boot camp. A little over a year after being married, we had our first son. Shortly after that, we faced our first deployment, then a second, a second baby, a third deployment.
I felt the heartbreak of being separated from my partner. I felt the pressure of being a "geographically single" mother. Heavy tears ran down my cheeks as I watched my toddler kiss pictures of my husband and ask for "more daddy".
Between our two sons, we lost a baby. I felt the emptiness of my heart overshadow the emptiness of my womb. I grieved the loss of a child that I knew nothing about. I packed away hopes and dreams and assumptions about that child's future.
I watched my husband come in and out of our lives, often feeling like a stranger for weeks after returning. By the time we got reacquainted, he'd be gone again. I'd ask myself "Is this normal? Will this ever end?" I felt completely lost.

During this seven years of official adulthood, I've seen people marry and divorce. I've watched as my friends experience years of infertility, countless miscarriages, and sending their babies off to Heaven after only hours on this Earth. I've seen friends fall upon hard financial circumstances and struggle to feed themselves and their children. I've seen my loved ones pass away. I've watched as my close family and friends struggle with health issues that leave them frail and discouraged. I've watched my friends put in countless hours searching for jobs, only to be told there are no openings. I've seen them struggle through school, only to be rewarded with thousands of dollars in debt. I've seen hopelessness. I've seen defeat.
I've seen heartbreak.

I once thought that heartbreak would end when I found someone to love me for life, when I had children, when I got degrees and jobs and felt accomplished. I thought adulthood equated serenity. Unfortunately, that isn't true.

I think back on the issues I faced as a teenage girl and think "If only that was it."  It's not to say that those days weren't difficult, and I know that some young people face much more difficulty in their lives than I ever have and probably ever will. The children who are bullied, the children who don't feel at home in their own bodies, the children who live in poverty, the children who live through abuse...I am not belittling their heart ache. I am not going to even assume that I could understand it or identify with it. Heartache is something they have seen all too much of, and unfortunately, adulthood will not bring a complete eradication of heartbreak.

So what, then? If heartbreak doesn't change, then what?
We change.
We realize that life is not easy, relationships take work, things go wrong and opportunities don't always knock down our doors. But we also realize that it's been years since we felt that first pang of heartache and we are still here. We are still going strong. We can still find beauty in life. We still smile. We still laugh. We're still happy people that only sometimes feel unhappy.

When I was 13 and experiencing unrequited love, it was the worst thing I could have felt at that time. And I got through it. I found my husband, we fell in love. We got married, had children, built a life together. We fell on hard times and we came out stronger. We spent months separated from each other and we remained faithful and committed. I experienced the loss of a baby and it was incredibly painful, but I ended up being blessed with my rainbow son and he brings me laughter every day. I watched my mother lose the man she loved, unexpectedly but she went on to find love again and become a wife again after being separated from my father for over 20 years. I watched my aunt be diagnosed with cancer, fight through chemo, and come out on the other side cancer free and empowered. I watched my brother battle a decade-long drug addiction, overcome it on his own and go on to meet his wife and be blessed with her two boys.
Look, heartbreak doesn't go away. It's always here with us. The depth of it changes over the years. We learn that things happen in adulthood that we didn't dream of happening when we were young and thought that we'd "have it all together" by the ages we are now.
But we also come to know that humans are resilient. We are much, much stronger than we ever give ourselves credit for. We grow and we choose to love each other. We choose to support each other because we know we need support. We face challenges with confidence because we are experienced victors. We can look fear, pain, and loss right in the eyes and say "You may knock me down, but you will not keep me down."
We begin to realize that these are the best of times; these are the worst of times and we make peace with that. Heartbreak is devastating. But there is nothing more powerful than overcoming it and realizing that there is nothing, nothing that you cannot make it through.

So no matter where you are in your life, I want you to understand two things:
1) Heartbreak is everlasting, ever-changing.
2) So are you.

Right Here

It's been a busy couple of weeks. My mom, the boys, and I were able to travel to Virginia to see my brother and visit with some friends. It was a long, draining trip but it was lovely being able to visit the place we called home for five years and to see my brother after the longest separation my mom and I have ever had from him.
That has nothing to do with this blog, honestly. But I said all that to say: The day before we left for VA I had taken my youngest son to day care while I took my oldest to an appointment. When I was picking him up, I saw a mother walking with her young son (he was probably 18 months). As they went through the entry way, she stopped to hold the door for another mother walking in. Her little one stopped and looked to his side, expecting to see her there, and when he didn't his lip began to quiver. She was a mere 2-3 feet behind him and with these simple words she calmed his fears: "I'm right here."

It hit me in that moment that those may be the three most underrated words in all of creation. How highly we hold that three-word phrase we all hold so dear: I love you. But I believe that "I'm right here" is right up there with its more popular three-word counterpart. Love is a tremendous thing, but love without presence lacks meaning.

I immediately thought about wanting to blog about what that mother said and why it was such an extraordinary thing. And I'm just now having the time to sit down and do just that.

How often have we said those words, or something similar, in our lives? How often have we heard them? When we have heard them, how often has it been exactly what we needed to hear?

I've always fancied myself someone with a good memory. I can remember things from when I was only a toddler. I started thinking back on times with my mother as a child. None stood out to me when she used that phrase with me as a little girl, but one thing that did stand out was how often she showed me that she was right by my side. Her presence, and the presence of others in my family, shines through to me more than anything else in my early years.

I started thinking about a time when I was a little older--my preteen days. I had my first crush, but of course I thought it was much more. I happened to be head-over-heels for one of my brother's friends, and after he had spent a weekend at our house, my tween girl feelings were just that much more amplified. However, I was wise beyond my years in the sense that I knew, deep down, that we'd never be together. And although it seems silly now, it killed me. I went to my best friend's house to spend the night (it was summer time) and she, too, had spent the weekend with someone she cared very deeply for. She is five years my senior, so her feelings and experiences were far more complex than that of an 11 or 12 year old girl, but the feeling of desperation of wanting something you can't have was the same. I remember walking into her room, without saying a word to her about how I was feeling or having any indication of how she was feeling. Before we started our normal routine of playing Nintendo and listening to No Doubt, we both just looked at each other and began to cry. Neither of us knew exactly why the other was crying, just yet, but we did know that we needed each other in that moment. We hugged and cried together. Finally, she broke the silence. "I'm here. I'm so sorry." We continued to cry for a few minutes, then dried it up and explained why we were both feeling so down. After getting it off our chests, we went on with our night of playing around, listening to music, and eating entirely too much ice cream. We had a good time. But I believe without each others' presence, we would have lingered in our sadness.

A few years later...a similar situation. I had broken up with my first real boyfriend after being together for over two years. I quickly started dating someone else, and because I was pretty new at the whole thing, I fell hard. He wasn't right for me. Everyone saw it as a fling. My two best guy friends strongly advised me against dating him. But, I thought it was love. He was 16 (a year younger than I was) and had a child. We worked together, and after only being "an item" for a couple of weeks, he met me in the parking lot at work and told me he was breaking up with me to try to make it work with his baby's mother. Good for him, really. But, at the time it hurt. I think it hurt worse than it should have because, like I said, I had fallen hard. I missed the security and companionship I had with my ex and I wanted to have that again. I felt really lonely. I remember leaving work early that night, much to my manager's chagrin, and calling my friend Kyle on the way home. "Meet me at my house, can you?" He could tell I was upset. He showed up at my doorstep with our other bestie, Daniel. I remember just looking at them and saying "Please don't say 'I told you so'" and bursting into tears. They immediately understood. Neither of them said they saw it coming, even though they both did. They just sat with me and said "Who needs him? We're here."

As I walked with my two sons to the van and my mind pushed that last memory aside, a new one came into view. I was in my car, at the top of the hill close to my home, off the side of the road. I realized I had just wrecked my car but was disoriented. I pulled out my cell phone and made a call to my mom. As soon as she answered, I said through my tears, "Mom, I need you." "Where are you?", she asked. I told her. "I'll be right there." And within 2 minutes, she was pulling up next to me. "I'm right here. It's okay, I'm here."

Another memory flashed in my mind. I was 21 years old, and after a long, hard labor I welcomed my first child into the world. I remember feeling like the weight of all the love in the world was placed in my arms when I first held him. I said "Hi, baby. You're here. You're finally here." Everything I had dreamed of was presented to me in that moment. He was right there and that was more than enough for me.

Driving home from day care, a few other memories popped into my mind. The times my husband was deployed--those first phone calls or video chats. The connections were always awful and he'd cut in and out. But I'd hear his voice on the line. "I'm here", he'd say and even if he was only there with me for a minute, it was enough to get me through the next few weeks we'd go without hearing each other's voices.
When I found out we had lost a baby between my two sons, and my husband was underway. A friend sat with me in the ER. "I'm so glad you're here.", I said.
When my second son was born, he came out without a heartbeat. He wasn't breathing. He lied purple and lifeless on the bed for what seemed like forever before they whisked him away to cut his cord and suction his lungs. When we finally heard his cry, I remember crying tears of joy myself and thinking "There it is! The cry I've been waiting for. He's here and he's okay."
When my brother was living with us and my husband was gone for deployments, workups, or duty days, I'd often wait up for my brother to get home and confess that I hated a house without a male presence. "Eh, I'm here.", he'd say, "No need to worry."
When my oldest would have a nightmare or my youngest would wake up hungry, I'd rush to their bedside and rub their backs. "Mommy's right here. I'm right here," I'd say as I picked them up and comforted them.
When my husband finally returned home from his last deployment after four extensions and I heard my boys yelling "Daddy's here! He's really here!!".

The words "I'm right here" may not seem like much when we first think about them. I'm sure we all hear them and say them daily. But when you think about the gravity of those words and the meaning behind them, a lot of things in life come into perspective. Isn't presence the most important thing we can give someone in this life? Love without presence is empty. Friendship without presence falls short. Relationships of any kind, without presence, cannot be influential or empowering.

Be there for the ones you love. Be present with God, with your children, your spouse, your parents, your family, and your friends. Revel in the times that someone has said those words to you, and proven to you that they mean it from the deepest parts of their soul. I never thought overhearing three little words in a scenario that I hear and experience quite often would take me for the ride it did, but I am so glad that it happened that way. Seeing that child go from scared to comforted in an instance was so poignant to me. Be that comfort for someone in your life and allow someone to comfort you in the same way. It's the every day things that often go unnoticed that tend to be the life-altering moments in our lives. <3 nbsp="" p="">

To You, Baby

Dear Baby,

I need you to know that I love you. I need you to know that I want you; I have always wanted you.

To me, you are not just some ideal number. You are not wishful thinking. You are more than a hope and bigger than a dream. You are abstract, but you are concrete. You are not living and breathing, yet. But I believe you are real--you exist somewhere out there in the universe. And you are mine.

I think about you often, Baby. I imagine my first knowledge of your presence and the joy that it would bring. I can nearly feel your tiny flutters inside my belly, the weight and the warmth of your body lying on my chest. I can see the smile on your Daddy's face when you enter the world, ready to prove to him that you were well worth any struggles that a bigger family may face. I can see that you are the apple of your big brothers' eyes. I can almost hear your tiny laughter and your big, hungry cry.

Baby, you are something that I have waited for all my life. When I dreamed of your brothers, I dreamed of you, too.
I want you for all your experiences. I want you for your newborn smell, your toddles, your first day of school, your first date, your teenage drama, your wedding day, and the grandchildren you will one day bless me with.
Baby, I long for it all.

I may not hold you in my arms, Baby, but I am holding you in my heart. Wherever you may be, a piece of me is there with you. One day, I hope that you will arrive with that piece, and I will feel the wholeness of knowing you are here.
Until then, Baby, I will be here. Searching, hoping, loving, wanting, and waiting.

Forever Yours,
Mama

Unwavering

This morning, as my oldest and I waited outside for the bus, I turned to him and said "Let me get your picture, Goob. You look so big and handsome today." And he did. And he does every day. But some days it takes me off guard.

I snapped the picture but behind his little smile I saw something deeper. "You okay, bub?", I asked. He began to tear up. He told me he didn't want to go to school. He said that school is "too long" and he just wanted to be here with me. Of course, as much as I wanted to say "Okay, lets just go back inside and snuggle", I needed to send him off to school. I gave him a big hug and looked at him face to face. "I will miss you too, sweetie. But you will have fun at school. And when you get home, I'll be here waiting." He hugged me tight as his bus rounded the corner and when it stopped and the doors opened, he turned to me with a smile and a wave. "I love you!" he yelled back, and off he went.

As I opened the door to come back inside, a small whimper met my ears. My little guy..standing with two stuffed animals wrapped in his arms and a tear in his eye. "I was missing you, mama."
He had woken up in the few minutes that I was out front with his brother and he'd felt scared and alone. I wrapped him in a hug and told him I was only putting Xander on the bus. "Mommy will never leave you alone. If I'm not inside, I'm right outside sending Goob off to school. Are you okay?"
"Now I'm okay," he answered. "I love you, mama."

Some days the gravity of how much they love me hits me and I can't explain the way it makes me feel. I know they won't be this little forever. Along the way, I'll make some mistakes. I'll upset them or let them down. New loves will develop in their lives. As they mature, their love for me and all things will mature and change.

But here--in the quiet of this still, gray morning--their love is the most indestructible, unwavering, devoted, and adoring that it will ever be.

They still say things like "I wish I could be stuck to you all day so I could just kiss you and hug you when I wanted to." and "I love you thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much" and "I don't know how to say it but I just love you, love you, love you."

And I am so honored. I can't describe how lucky I feel to be the mother of these two amazing boys and how completely enamored I am with them.
I want them to know that the way they love me now--fully, wholeheartedly, with all their energy and commitment--that is the way I have always and will always love them.

From the moments I knew they were forming inside of my body--I was thankful for them.
The first seconds they were placed on my chest, I felt the weight of a love heavier than any I had ever known.
I spent my nights holding them close. I smelled their little heads, kissed their little faces.
I held my breath with their first steps and their first times on their bikes.
I feel pride swell within with every milestone they achieve. My heart melts every time I see their personalities blossom and with each time I experience or witness the fullness of their kind hearts and giving souls. I sneak into their room each night and watch them sleeping, in awe at the beauty that my husband and I created. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and take it all in each time they snuggle close to me or sit in my lap and nuzzle their heads into my neck.

Right now, in this day and this year and this phase of our lives, I am privileged enough to have these two boys look at me like I have hung the moon.
I don't know how long that will last. But I do know that for me, they will always be my sun--the center of it all, the light of my life.
They will always be my everything and I will always feel like the luckiest woman in the world to belong to them, and to have been loved by them in such a precious and pure way.

And the word of the year is....

Content.

The new year is upon us. 2015--it's hard to believe. I've decided that this year, instead of making resolutions that I'm unlikely to follow through with, I'm going to give the year a theme and build on it. My theme for 2015 is to be content.

2014 was a very trying, exhausting, saddening year for me. I won't go into details but I will say I fought my own demons, faced trials in my marriage and family, and was met with some very big changes. I found myself feeling more hopeless and worthless than I had in a very long time. My anxiety and depression reached an all-time high and it seemed that trouble awaited around every corner. 2014 was just a culmination of so many years of things working their way into my life and my heart--negativity, frustration, disappointment.
I looked back on my life, namely on my adulthood, and realized that two emotions were prevalent: fear and guilt.
I have allowed these two emotions to control so much of my life and it's time that I regain control.

Despite the trials we faced this year, my little family came out of it with our heads above water and we're working to make ourselves even stronger than before.

I want this next year to be filled with love, laughter, and progress. I want this year to be filled with contentment.
Some people confuse contentment with complacency. That's not the case. You can be content with the goals you have set for yourself but achieving them still takes work. It's not always going to be a "sit back, relax, and take it all in" type of feeling. But, one thing that I know for sure--I want it to be a happy feeling.

I have so many things in my life to be happy about. So many. And yet, I've realized that I've not been experiencing all the happiness I can. I haven't allowed myself to. Some of that has been due to my anxiety and depression--which I'm working on--but some of it comes from insecurity and those two pesky emotions I talked about before: fear and guilt.

Fear of being rejected.
Fear of being abandoned.
Fear of not being worthy.
Fear of others' perceptions of me.
Guilt about not "adding up".
Guilt surrounding not being the best wife, the best mother, the best daughter, the best friend.
Guilt about wanting something for myself that others may not approve of.
Guilt about doing things differently; being myself.

I've spent many years of my life so worried about what other people think, what society says I should be doing, and what I might be messing up, that I've not allowed myself to truly enjoy the blessings I have in my life. And for that, I'm sorry. Because those of you who have been a blessing in my life deserve to be truly, fully appreciated.
How often do we let others dictate how we feel, what we do? How often do we follow through with something, knowing it will bring us no joy, simply because we feel constrained, obligated, or forced?
I'm not saying we should be totally selfish. We shouldn't ignore the needs of others. We shouldn't be so self-absorbed that we don't notice when someone could benefit from our time, our words, and our presence. But, we shouldn't be forced to tolerate negativity because we feel it's "just the way life goes."

I'm talking about allowing others opinions to influence your choice of career, how many kids you have, when you make big life decisions, who you marry, or what religion you practice. I'm talking about "going through the motions" every day because you feel you owe it to your family or your peers. I'm talking about beating yourself up with each mistake. I'm talking about setting unrealistic expectations for yourself and others and being torn apart when they aren't met. I'm talking about the constant feeling of competition--someone is always prettier, always a better mom, always smarter, always more advanced in their field, always richer. I'm talking about drudging through life doing everything you feel you have to do without stopping to think about what you want to do.

In 2015, I want to rid myself of all of that. If nothing more, I want to begin to make a more positive impact in my own life.

I just recently graduated college and you know the first thing I thought? "Well, now I have to go get a job in my field, I guess."
No true, genuine excitement. Now that it's here, and it's real, I wonder if this is even what I want to do with my life. I've always been smart. I had big dreams of double majors in psychology and poli sci. I wanted to run for Congress some day. I went straight into college, because that's what you do. But then, I got married and I had kids. And I realized life is much more than checking boxes off of some giant "must-do" list. My loved ones are my passion. Singing makes me happy. Writing fulfills me. And I honestly don't even really care for politics anymore. I realized that shortly into my college career, so I went with Psychology and then back to school for Substance Abuse Counseling. Substance abuse hits close to home for me and I love helping people so I could see this being something I enjoyed doing. But is it my passion? No. And now here I am...several years later. I've put what truly makes me happy on the back-burner to do something more tangible, something that will make me some money, a "real" career. I've got two college degrees, a whole lot of debt, and a commitment to something I'm not sure will ever make me feel fulfilled.
Why have I not tried to make anything of my writing? Fear. There it is again. Fear that I'd fail. Fear that I'd waste my time and then when I realized I couldn't make it, I'd have to scramble to find a "real career". Fear that people would look down on me. "Oh you're just a mom and an aspiring author?" I can just hear the contempt.

2015 is about being content. Content in my choices. Content in my abilities. Content in my discernment. Content in my love, in my relationships, in my own worth.
2015 is about not letting anything get in the way of my self-confidence. It's about being an awesome wife and an awesome mom and an awesome family member and friend---not based on certain accomplishments or comparisons but just because I am awesome. At least, my husband and kids and family and friends think so. And I'm going to stop trying to convince them otherwise.

2015 is not about fear, it's not about guilt, and it's not about proving something to everyone. There aren't resolutions to lose X pounds, to get a job paying X salary, to do X amount of new things. Sure, all those things would be wonderful. All those things can be goals. But if I set them, I want to be the dictator of what those mean for me. I'm freeing myself from doing things based solely on the idea of negative repercussions if I don't do them,

2015 is my year. I can feel it. I won't stand for it being anything other than mine. I have amazing people in my life, big dreams, talents, and a heart full of love. I won't squander those things anymore based on guilt and fear. I will be myself, I will own it. I will be content. 
And I invite you to do the same.

Happy New Year!