So… a blog. About the ups and the downs of single hood… Single mothers in particular because, that’s what I am. A single mother of two little boys, and therefore, a “pro“ in all things related with single and parent. Why start a blog you ask? The answer is simple. I want a place to express the joys, the laughter, the frustration, and everything else that comes our way. So here goes with my thoughts on LIFE as I know it…..
I don’t hear your words anymore, but they’re there even still…
I don’t hear your threats any longer, but they’re there even still…
I don’t feel your bruises, but they’re there even still…
I don’t feel the eggshells under my feet, but they’re there even still…
I don’t see your fists, but they’re there even still…
I don’t see your eyes, but they’re there even still…
You see… physically you are no longer there, but your actions still linger. They violate me, even still … in the nightmares that creep in at night and in the way I jump when someone approaches a little too quickly. This I was expecting… this I know how to handle. I can talk myself out of the nightmares. I can calm my racing heart when I look into the eyes of the stranger who had no intention of startling me.
Your actions, though, affect the way others look at me. Pity, disgust, and fear. These are a few of the emotions that pass over faces of those I tell my story too. I can, again, expect these.
This, though, I wasn’t expecting…
Those same emotions fell over the face of someone I wanted in my future. In my boys’ future. Your actions, not my own… caused someone I cared about to leave my life. Too much. Your actions were too heavy a burden to carry. To deal with. You have caused too much damage, even still.
This person was attacked for not being strong enough, worthy enough, or man enough… but I get it. I don’t fault him. I also don’t want anyone in my life who doesn’t want to stay. I don’t want anyone who isn’t willing to accept me as I am… with the experiences that I’ve lived through. I deserve better…
Your actions, Mr. X, were not something I asked for. They do not define me, nor do they define my actions. They do, however, belong to my past and as part of my past they helped me grow into the woman I am. They’ve made me stronger. They’ve made me softer. They’ve made me value my worth. They’ve made me stand on my own two feet and fight for myself.
And we’re not talkinglittle fingers here folks (although, admittedly, I’m a bit surprised myself).
Nope we’re talking the real kind of birdies. The ones who chirp, fly, and poop on my car windshield and door handle (they never miss…)
My little men discovered a baby bird. Their little hands nurtured this baby and searched and searched for her momma. Upon discovering the little momma was missing (or “out searching for baby bird food” as Caler so innocently speculated), these boys took the little lady under their wing.
This bird was spoiled in the most loving of ways. With a name so affectionately selected from the their favorite game MineCraft, how could ‘Creeper’ not feel the love. The boys carefully prepared a basket for Creeper to sleep in. Filled with freshly picked grass and a napkin blanket (in case she needed to cuddle or if she was too cold during the night).
Feeling a little scared with too many people gawking at her, she ran with lightening speed into the crook of Ayden’s arm and nuzzled her body in to him. Relaxed and calm, she stayed there.
With her chosen spot tucked in between the two lawn chairs on the deck, a spot lovingly picked to protect Creeper from harm, the boys tucked her in for the night.
Caler man’s momma radar must have been blaring in his ear, because sometime during the night he tiptoed out of the room. He tiptoed over the tiled floor and slid open the heavy sliding glass door.
His little hands reached for the basket still tucked into the safety of the chairs. He tucked Creepers basket under his arm and tiptoed back into the security of his blankets. Creeper spent the rest of the night nestled against Calers sleeping body. Safe and sound. Sound and safe.
The sun rose and our morning routine went off without a hitch. No arguing. No need for second warnings to get out of bed. No sleepy eyes staring at me blankly. Walking out the door, I noticed Caler clinging to his “pack-pack” with a little more care than usual. Late. We were running late, so we hustled to the car.
It was noon when I got the call.
I picked up my men from school. Caler looked at me and said “But Mom, you make me go to school and you’re a good momma. Creeper is 7, like me… so she needs school to.” This caused Ayden to erupt into a fit of giggles… the kind that show off his sweet dimple.
Faith hasn’t always been a strong suit for me… I like to see things, hear things…. I like to know things.Some things though, you can’t know… you have to trust.There is no promise. There is no money-back-heart-break-forgetting guarantee. It’s believing in yourself and the faith you have for the person you are. That is what will stand up when the rest feels like crumbling.
The other day while helping someone close to me, I was asked to write what I believe makes up a Faithful Woman. She believed I was a faithful woman. “Am I?” – I asked her reflecting on years of questioning my faith in religion. “Yes.” – She replied “You are. Look at everything life has thrown at you. Really look. And look at the woman you are. You know you. You… are faithful to you. That’s what I believe makes you a faithful woman. Sometimes you leap and you fall but you stand up and you leap again.”
I did leap again and I believed in the freefall. I fell hard. And it was beautiful. And it hurt.My belief was tucked in my heart. I still believe in love. I believe in the possibilities it opens. And most importantly I still believe in me.
Love walks up to you and leaves your heart standing right there smack dab in the middle of a local restaurant trying to catch its breath.It can’t. Because whenever you try, the beautiful brown eyes, the pair that locked with yours as you both stole that second glance, are caught in nearly every thought you think and every breath you breathe. I think I loved him. My heart was clinging to the Velcro attached to my ruffly sleeve and I didn’t pull it back when it detached. I let it go. Let go… let yourself experience the possibility of love, I was told. I let him in, briefly, but he was there.
It took me a bit to learn to trust the fall,. Slowly I started picking off the pieces of cement that held me inside a box I was forced to believe I was supposed to fit into. A box I was constantly fighting against for so many years. A box I knew wasn’t my size. The freedom I felt when I was able to take a deep breath and fall backward is a feeling I hope to relive over and over again.
The landing wasn’t at all what I expected. The landing didn’t have anything to do with not being enough. It didn’t have anything to do with who I am at all, actually.But even if it had… I still have faith in me. I still am a Faithful Woman.
To sleep or not to sleep? The answer should be simple. Sleep. Right?
Well, life has me stressed out a bit lately the only remedy to my sleep deprivation has been the green liquid sleep inducer.
I take it so that I can not only function the next day, but also so that my grumpiness is kept at a minimum. It sometimes works J
The problem with Nyquil is that it brings out some kind of crazy. My NyQuil dreams are warped and feel so real I swear they’ve actually happened. Except that… I’m no longer in the Amazon, no longer surrounded by the lush green foliage. The sticky air does not cling to my clothing and does not cause the effort of breathing to feel like suffocating. The murky water does not camouflage the slithering snakes lurking just beneath the ripples. My boys are no longer threatened by the coiling wires of spitting cobra’s that pop out of the sand as we run away from the giant gummy worm Anaconda who has wrapped itself around the entire circumference of the lake. No longer can I see the red mixed with yellow mixed with orange sugary concoction gliding its way through the moist bushes to where the boys and I picnic. I can no longer feel the threat of its thoughts lingering on how delicious a meal we humans would make.
And that my friends, is why I don't trust Nyquil...