We all go through some stuff.
In the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes, the writer, believed to be Solomon, says there is a time for everything. A season for everything. If you believe as I do, then you believe that everything in the Bible is from God. So, if God knew we were going to go through some stuff, why do we panic and abandon all hope when everything isnt sunshine and rainbows? I mean, don’t let your life go to crap just because everything doesn’t go according to plan. I’ve come to realize that growth comes from the struggle. I don’t want to be the same person, with the same views, and the same experiences years from now. Imagine if I was the same person I was a year ago. The horror! 😱
I want to have battle scars and amazing stories to tell. Struggle and strife definitely suck. But you still have to live your life in the middle of it. Amazing things have come from the darkest places for me recently.
I know, especially in today’s world, everything is supposed to be wonderful, stupendous, terrific, tarnish-free and spicy, 24/7. Life through an Instagram filter is marvelous.
And I’m not here to preach about what you put on Instagram, or Facebook, or anything else. You do you, boo boo. All I’m trying to say is that your life, and my life for that matter, are not less because our real life doesn’t exactly match our poised and posed online feed.
I feel like I’ve been going through a season. Obviously.
A season of heart ache. Trial. Mistakes. Embarrassment. Distress. But that’s only part of the story. I’m not saying I’m finished with those things. But those things are fewer and farther in-between. This season of my life has also taught me more about myself than the last 30 some-odd years combined. I may of lost a lot. But I gained so much more. It’s also given me joy back. Joy I thought I would never feel again. It has also brought clarity. Friendship. Laughter. Determination. And love.
Before, felt like I was living in a tiny box, taped together by own ignorance and foolish pride. And I thought that’s where I would stay for the rest of my life. I didn’t even know there was choice. I didn’t know!
And now I do. Now the world is layed at my feet and I am free to pursue whatever I want, in any direction I wish. My life is no longer confined by anything or anyone else except my own choices.
Getting here was not easy. I mean, as if that wasn’t a given. But something that I’ve realized, and have written about previously, is that I would never of been able to do it all alone.
I try my best to keep my blog kind of neutral, in most regards. I don’t name names, or put anyone on blast, or reveal embarrassing stories or humiliating scenarios, except my own. But hey, it’s my blog.
But I do want to talk about things and people that have helped me, saved me, and quite literally brought me back to life.
My best friend Rachel is someone who I must name. She is my ride or die, my confidant, my cheer leader, my coffee buyer, my girl friend, and my “husband”, for lack of a better term. I can trust her with every single minor, major and humiliating detail of my life and never feel judged, condemned or less because of them. I have confessed to her my sorrows, my joys, my regrets, and my seriously thick headed moments. The last few months have been difficult. Her and I have had a lot of hard conversations. I’ve had to confess a lot of hard things. I’ve revealed a lot of sobering details of my life. Things I’m not proud of. Things that brought me shame and disappointment. And you know what she did? She loved me. She helped me. She encouraged me. She provided for me. I had one bad day after another and it was wearing me down. But when I was down on my luck, broken and broke ($), she was there for me. She arranged appointments, gave me rides, offered advice, met me for coffee dates, handed me a beer, text me, called me, scheduled mechanic dates, even negotiated the price to fix my car. She always has the right amount of sarcasm and whit to bring me out of my gloom. She was always willing to listen to my petty remarks. She had the wisdom to know what to say to me when I needed a shoulder to cry or even a knock upside the head. She cut my hair, posed for selfies, stayed up late, kept my secrets and still wants to know how my weekend went. My advice to everyone, get yourself a Rachel. But you can’t have mine. Get your own!
In my future blog posts, I want to write about the people who have been there for me during this very strange, awful and beautiful time. They deserve for everyone who reads this, to see the incredible impact they’ve had on me.
I don’t want to write about this sad moment in my life all the time though. It’s been over a year since my ex husband moved out. And while it’s felt like its been forever since that day, it really hasn’t. I spent 14 years of my life with that man. I was a teenager when we met. It’s a lot of life to detangle yourself from. But that’s what this blog is for. So that way all the ramblings of my mind, my memory, and experiences can get expressed through written word and not imbed itself into the walls of my mind to fester.
I want to talk about the future. Not like futuristic details, like flying cars or mind reading machines. I want to talk about the REAL future. My future.
In my future, I want to live my freaking life! The world is a big ass place and I want to see more of it! To travel and see blue skies and waterfalls and mountains and hot sandy beaches. I want to take my kids to new places, eat new foods, meet new people and just soak it all in! I want to feel rain on my face in a new country, sweat from the hot sun in a different time zone, and sleep in a bed thousands of miles away from my house in Miami.
I want to save and scrape up my money and then blow it all on a trip, just to see my kids faces light up when they wake up to new smells and sights and adventures that await them just outside the door. All in good time though.
Sometimes I’ll get this feeling. And it’s something I can’t shake. I can’t name. And I can’t express. But it’s a weight to carry. But it’s not a weight that’s meant to make me sad. It’s a weight to make me slow down. To sink lower into my life, like a warm bath after a long day, and experience rest. To stay up late on Friday and sleep in on Saturday. To eat chips and salsa on the couch, not put on a bra, and catch up on my Netflix queue. To listen to my kids tell me stories about their friends and the intricacies of school in today’s society. To constantly tell my son he needs hair cut cause I like the way he tells me how much he doesn’t need one. To listen to them wrestle and argue and complain and fight. To see my dining room table with goldfish crumbs and water rings left from their cups. These things won’t be there forever. They won’t always come to me when they have a cut or a need or to ask me for money. I want to pour into them. Shower them with everything I have to offer. To show them they are worthy. I now can see that when I make myself small, I also show them that maybe they have to be small as well. And it breaks my heart to think of them thinking of themselves as anything less than incredible, monumental, amazing human beings. To think of them shrinking themselves to fit into someone else’s life?
A Fu*king Travesty.
I never again want to shrink my life down to fit into someone else’s perspective. If someone wants to come along, I hope they brought a big enough frame to fit all me into their life. Cause you know what I’ve discovered about me? I’m kind of a big deal. ;)
My ride or die
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