Last night I got into a pretty heated conversation with a good friend. We most definitely have different parenting styles. She is raising robotic humans who jump on command and cannot decide on a candy if they are given a choice. They don’t have favorite toys or colors. They are essentially stoic from being broken down so low to the point of almost being dehumanized. YES> absolutely. she loves her kids! And to some degree difficult children need certain types of corrective action BUT when your children are awesome, caring, fun vessels of light, with huge imaginations….why would you put a cap on that?
All parents have to do what works for them. We all parent a little different. Some harsher. Some slacker. We all do what we know is right for us. BUT when you are on facebook ranting about how your not yet 5 year old refuses to eat…you have beat him, scolded him, offered rewards to him, and flat out ignored his existence…… WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU EXPECTING? Because quite honestly, I was confused. What do you want from him? Do you want him to want to eat his veggies? Do you want him to want to eat? OR are you trying to create food anxiety? I really don’t understand.
In comparison. She has a child that is almost two and mine is right up running a month behind him. They are almost exactly a month apart. Her child did not laugh until he was 18 months old. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t show emotion. He doesn’t like to be held. He is just as content to sit in the corner and pretend he is alone same as my child would be jumping up and down asking to be held or screaming in delight. She (the friend) asked me a few months ago what I do to get my child to talk so well? And behave so nicely. My answer was “I lead by example and treat her like I would want to be treated. Within reason. I don’t ask her to talk to her dad about our divorce or to pick sides but I do show her she is responsible for her and that using her words helps me understand exactly what she needs.” I fuel my child to be successful in life. She went to school most of last week with pull-ups or underwear OVER her clothes…because she chose to. In the grand scheme of things…with something so simple what does it really matter? She was going to daycare not to meet the president….and even then I bet he would side with her making her own choices. The friend would not even entertain the idea that her children could possibly not want to wear what she has picked out for them. She wouldn’t even dream that they would possibly wake her up before they had gotten dressed, brushed their teeth, washed their faces, and prepared their own breakfast by 645am. For a 4 almost 5 year old and a 6 year old…thats big stuff. Not that they shouldn’t be able to get dressed (I mean she has the outfits out) but doing everything they need to by themselves without support or help or OPTION to nearly be themselves seems a little crazy. (Please wake me before you leave for the bus. and if you wake up the baby. its over for you).
Children are not soldiers. You do not have children so you can control someone’s life. You do not have children stair stacked when you know what prevents it and you don’t like the first two. You don’t have children when you beat them for not eating their veggies one night and reward them with whatever they want the next night IF they choose to eat them. Its not a democracy. It’s parenting. BUILD YOUR CHILDREN. They will someday be adults. Build your children because they are human. They are people. and you CHOSE to parent. The same way they choose not to eat.
Sometimes I can’t help but celebrate the loss of a life I once dreamed of having but was living a life that was nothing that I wanted in the way I deserve.
Learning to put myself first and to love myself and learning my worth.
For nine years I was constantly put on the back burner. I was constantly questioned for who I am and constantly I allowed it.
Today. I plan to be a little less submissive. I want to put myself out there and go for myself. I have a knack for not needing help. Not needing people. And this puts me into a small dark place. The place where I have beautifully lit with lots of Christmas lights from year end sales. I dance here. I love it here. But reality here is that at some point I am going to need to ask for someone to enter my tragic heart. Tragic because somewhere a long the way I failed to learn to love myself and that creates more problems than the average high maintenance woman. A woman who doesn’t love or know how to love herself is like setting mouse traps across a 5 foot flooring section a setting free 10 mice on to the patch of traps. Not one of them is going to get to the other side.
I’m a runner. And not in the “I love to be healthy so I run” kind of way but rather “smooth sailing the fuck out of this problems way”. Part of always “getting what I want” is also navigating and knowing when to push the gas or when to hold off for a little while. I have mastered the art of manipulation for my life. If something is within my means to change I will go above and beyond to change it…sometimes for the more time sensitive or harsher avenues I tend to just dip out. I have been better here in the last year than ever before because running away really isn’t an option so in a sense….I guess you could say I have created a sense of healthy running. Grabbing shit by the horns and tackling it! And so goes my story.
BUT. This weekend. I had the urge to run again. Where on Earth I would go? Who knows. Its silly to even have the thought or even put enough care into “why do you want to run? are you insane”… I didn’t dismiss myself this time though. I really dug. I want out. I want out of here because I am alone. Going away won’t help. I will still be alone. My foundation and sense of security–the WHO I FREAKING AM is “alone”. I cling to myself and cling harder when I struggle. For whatever reason this weekend–maybe it was the snow–maybe it was Sunday struggling to get my house together. Whatever it was my heart wanted to pack up and leave. I just wanted to be somewhere else. I wanted to be someone else. (generally speaking I fucking love myself and my life).
Last night when my daughter came home this sense of needing to run. The urge was even stronger. Not because I was overwhelmed. Not because I wanted to really go away. But because part of me is missing in our life. I have never identified myself through anyone else before but I ache for her dad. I hate that he is choosing to miss these awesome nights or silly mornings. Am I allowed to be sad for him? He isn’t the man I married. He is a complete stranger. And I feel so so so sad for his loss. Maybe because he doesn’t seem to have one. How can I mourn my divorce and choices he made, for him?
Let the running feeling creep in. I will take it. I wan to embrace everything it has to bring me because this too is likely a phase of grief. I will heal from this. Until then. Put me on the Jet Craft.
Separation has really shown me a new side to myself. Lots of people have always told me that I was “lucky” because I always seemed to get what I wanted and several friends are jealous because I will talk about something then set a price in my head and somehow find an item or whatever it happens to be at a great discount. Queen of clearance? I can’t help that I have the patience of a person who really wants something? I mean? If I truly want something then its going to be worth waiting for, right?
I really don’t have patience. I am demanding and ruthless. I set my eyes on something and I don’t stop until I get it. Not that I burn bridges along the way but I definitely don’t take “no” very well and I have a high respect for people…. just don’t get in my way.
The reality of this is really hitting me today. As I was talking to my best friend about a new lets say project for lack of better term and detail today, I was truly faced with understanding completely people now when they say I get what I want. I vaguely touched on this new project last Sunday. Its been on my mind for a few weeks, lightly. Something seriously intriguing and adventure seeking lays in this project and for whatever reason I have trusted my gut to just run with it after this weeks events. Monday randomly and email came through that was odd and pointed to DO IT. Tuesday a random person mentioned something connecting to the project and I felt my gut turn a little. Then Wednesday I got my true opening for opportunity and I WENT FOR IT. Phase 1. hook. line. sinker.
Now. I just wonder. Am I crazy? I am over analyzing everything now because I am carefully crafting (as I normally would only more attention is alerted to the project detail internally…if that makes any sense). Is it really happening? Or is it just a figment of my imagination? Is phase 1 complete? Did that door open?
But I saw it. and in my mind. Without thinking it. I saw it. I wanted it. I did everything I could to have it. Now its mine? NO?
Is it just me, or does everyone get the same effect from life being so shaken? I can go for months where I am sleeping well, am super together, feel really good about everything then all the sudden out of no where everything drops off.
Most recently my ability to rest or get a good nights sleep has disappeared. My daughter was sick for close to 3 weeks, so that was a nightly up and down but still felt pretty ok and rested. Now she is better and sleeping better and I get slammed with those terrible live dreams and no real “rest”. I dream random things about how life should have been for us, I dream about how I am not worthy, I dream about how I need to move on, I dream about the horrible things that I have been through in life, its like one thing sets me off and I completely lose it at night. I can’t stop thinking, I can’t relax, but then in the morning all I want is 5 more minutes to just fall asleep.
Last night was really rough. I was up a lot coughing but I also was back to weird dreams. Dreams where I get to live my life as happy as it could ever be and it gets set on fire or I blink and everything goes black.
I don’t feel that I hang onto anything I have gone through.I am, admittedly, a little hard hearted but very willing to love. I am open to the idea that life is not what we want it to be but that it is what it is (working on accepting that I cannot control my life). And so I have these insane dreams of being out of control. Watching my life happen with no control of what is actually taking place. Part of my issue is not having enough time to do what I intend on doing–like last night I swept half (half yes just half) of the kitchen, threw a load of laundry on, and was able to vacuum sorta. My daughter needed me. She was fussy and clingy and in times like that I stop what I am doing and tend to her needs even if its watching barney and sitting on the couch or holding hands while she watches youtube. I LOVE this, but it leaves me uneasy and anxiety ridden. I feel guilty for not being two people and not being able to have a super clean house and have time to play. Generally speaking we are all play and I clean when she is asleep but for near 3 weeks of her sickness I went to bed with her because I wasn’t sleeping at night because she was up. I took advantage of my sleep and then fell slightly behind. Conditions of my home are “lived” in but that doesn’t erase the anxiety that follows by not being able to be two people and the guilt.
Am I carrying guilt? Is my anxiety driven by something real? Am I carrying weight of not being good enough for my husband when times get a little crazy? Is this PTSD?
I don’t know what the case is lately, like maybe I am putting out huge vibes of “single and not needing a man” which makes me intriguing or what. I have had more friends, old friends and new, married friends, single friends, friends friends, and strangers approach me more than ever here in the last few months. Like, here I am covering every piece of skin I can, and wearing whatever comfortable I feel like, as “scrubby” as I could have ever been and BAM everywhere I seem to look or turn someone is coming on to me or saying something–that in my mind is crazy!
Today at lunch I was walking into target and their was another customer just staring at me–maybe he meant no harm–maybe he did but he shouted at me as I walked passed him (on a mission) “you could at least smile” and before I could even think about it I said “its a little hard when someone is looking at you like a fucking piece of meat” and kept walking.
I get so frustrated. I am on this journey to that welcomes no distraction of man. I want to know where I stand with God. Where I stand with myself. and I wan to be 110% happy doing me–which means I can walk into Goodwill and spend $50 on myself without freaking out. I have been beaten and battered emotionally for too long. My self worth is so low and my self expectation is beyond high. Hoping that with enough time to be focused on me I can find the pretty middle of self acceptance and love.
That being said. These men have to go. What do I do? I really have no idea. I have asked many people if I come off a certain way or if I put myself out there too much? Even asked what I can do differently to make others step off. I didn’t get very far with my questions. Even my best friend thinks I have rolled in some honey and doesn’t quite understand my problem with the attracted masses and or where they are coming from. I am not overly friendly, I am well covered, I am strictly business when it needs to be, and normally just a nice person but not too friendly.
One of my biggest irritations is a guy who will not leave me alone. He hasn’t really crossed a line but he has not taken “i am not looking for anything or for someone to talk to all the time” as real life. He has texted me at least 9 times with no response. When I respond I am brief and clean. He still doesn’t get it. He is married, currently separated, and has confessed his crush on me but…. I was clear. I drew the line. NOW. I am super super frustrated. He is a nice guy and I dont want to have to be mean to him but we work together and I am having to change my daily routines to avoid him. Then add the co-worker I asked advice for how to easily let A down and now L is all over me. UHM. I have stalkers on stock. #endrant
Single parenting at its finest last night. Lucy is gluten and dairy free so she often requires “specific” foods. Like homemade gluten free dairy free bread and muffins for school. I usually try to make them on weekend nights because then I am not taking time away from Lucy to make her food but we have been sick and things are falling behind so I will need tonight to clean floors and bathrooms after she goes to bed. Bread and muffins were a must to get us through the weekend and into next week SO long story short she destroyed the house while I made bread/muffins/dinner. Even though a majority of the time she was under my feet crying. I felt. so. horrible. but at the same time. What else was I to do? Not have things we needed so I could sit and hold her? I did wear her for about 45 minutes but she soon wanted down to go put stickers on the wall.
Skip forward. We get through me feeling like a failing parent because I couldn’t stop what I was doing and play. Bread takes about and hour and half to get into the oven with rising and 40-60 minutes to bake. I could not do that and get into bed at a decent time for my 5:30 alarm and be alive today…so. Bread is made. and Lucy has muffins for the next few weeks.
We got dinner in. Then bath time. Usual story time and bedtime snuggles. Then for the first time in a week I actually didn’t go to bed with Lucy, I had to go pick up her stickers and coloring books she threw everywhere and all of the what-ever-else’s that were everywhere.
Fast forward again. I got to bed at a decent time.
My 1:45am wake up call was my child choking. CHOKING. In her sleep. CHOKING. Like the real deal struggle to breathe. Gasping. Sudden loss of coughing. CHOKING. I have been trained in CPR and have remained certified for 12 years. I have had a few incidents that needed my training but nothing major and mostly I was just trained support for things not actually using my training. Well. In the moment I didn’t think twice about what was happening. I instantly flipped my baby over my knee (she is still mostly asleep CHOKING) and start back blows. A few solid hits and a chunk of freaking TURKEY, yes TURKEY, comes shooting out and then some vomit from gagging. Still in a sleepy mode I let her finish puking and make sure all is clear. I move yuckies away all the while holding my terrified and shaking child. She has puke all over her (and cries because its on me). I slowly get out of bed to take her to the bath. As I am stripping her clothes and wiping her off I had a moment of realization: I may always be the one to deal with our sick child, I may always be the one that has no idea how single people prepare dinner or for tomorrow without highly upsetting their 21 month old, I may struggle to find a wrap to put my kid on my back so I can clean up puke sheets, I may even struggle to really know what people do with puke sheets, but I will always be able to rest knowing that I did.
Puke stained. And heart attack drained. I held my baby and watched spongebob. I told her how pretty she was and she gave me a huge smile and kiss with an attached “I love you”. I don’t know what normal is for anyone else. I know that my normal is somehow internally freaking out and still functioning fully for my daughter. It’s 2a.m. I don’t care where you are but I am so sad you are missing this.