#itsmorethanjustthesetights

Something worldly, pretty small.
Silly, pink and striped.
But, certain things hold onto memories like sponges.
Songs, scents, whispers of wind.
Today was bravery and quiet, private, healing.
Peace and release.
Another chip filled in, and another breath breathed.

I held my baby extra hard tight.
Told him he was golden.

Remembered staring hard to hold back the flood.
Pleading desperation I only barely knew.
It felt imprinted, I almost threw them away.

Not today.
Today I hold my head up and dance with my baby.
Today I revel in my bravery.
Today I am better.

bonus gratitude: children

After a cold, sunny adventure of gathering pinecones and hide and seek with three fun and awesome kids, I came into my warm house and was struck, deeply.

I have never been grateful for my new career path.

I have felt lucky to be able to stay home with my boy, and glad I had something to provide the community. I've been excited for so very many parts of the journey, and my pride at what I've built is huge.

But I had not until today felt joyous gratitude that I get to love amazing children and get paid for it. I get to tromp around the yard in crunchy leaves, I get to play lions and ROAR, I get to hug hug hug hurt feelings away. I get to teach love and respect and how to build a puzzle. I get to love these sweet perfectly imperfect, always learning little sponges. I get big hugs and kisses and laughter, and get paid for it. 

I am so deeply grateful that my life has led me here. I had no idea, I never aspired to this or could have planned it. But I am here, and I am grateful. 

for all the wine and doritos

So this feels super awkward to write, even know it's been on my mind forever and I've probably written a few different incarnations.

I haven't had a best friend through my whole life. It just hasn't worked out that way. Who was a best friend when I was a kid, didn't translate into my teen years, and then again didn't into my adult years. That's fine, and probably normal. But hard, sometimes. I lost of a lot of friends a few years ago, through no fault of anyone's. But it was hard not having someone in my life that just knew it all.

And then, there was this girl I met. This awkward redhead who I didn't like. Who annoyed me. (Bare with me).

I met her in the middle of a crazy stressful day and a weird time in my life. I don't exactly remember the first time we intentionally hung out outside of work. I just remember late nights of wine and shared experiences and talking about anything. I remember a camping trip after which I thought I'd kill her.

I also remember telling her the biggest hardest secret. She was the one who lifted me and held me up through what, at the time, was the hardest thing I'd felt. She supported me even when I was a crappy friend and making awful decisions. I knew she was a true friend.

And then, I texted her from the bathroom floor that I was pregnant. And she came over with chocolate chip pumpkin bread and layed in bed and held me while I cried. And told me she would be the papa. (Seriously, I'm cracking up over that now!)

This girl was the one, is the ONLY PERSON who knows everything of the last 2 years of my life. The one who I sent copies of messages to, in stunned silence. The one who listened to me swoon and complain and cry over the same dumb guy for the past 2 years, and then again over another one and another one. The one who babysits for first dates and then tells me how I could do so much better. The one who brings me wine and lets me cry. Who made me go big with my poetry, and who inspired me, and who I wrote a damn poem about.

And who loves this kid so much. His bond with her is big. She might not know it, but I see it. I tell him Auntie is coming over and he WAITS for her, frantic. He knows she's family.

I wanted to write this, because in the midst of a lot of lost friendships, in a sea of garbage relationships and lost ideals and deep sadness, she was and is there for me. And for my son. She's the kind of friend who I can tell the damn truth to, and who I know will never sugar coat for me. Who will be there even if we're on each other's last nerve.

And I taught her how to chop tomatoes.

I love you, Jenna.

peace

It's so strange how wonderful it feels to sit down and type on my computer. I so rarely get the chance, and haven't had more than a few moments to myself for the better part of a week.

I don't know what to write, except that I feel a fog lift. A fog that's lingered for a really long time.

The journey of the past couple years has been hard. And the journey of the last 6 months has tested me more than I could have imagined.

I didn't really realize the toll it took. How hard it is for me to trust the people I should the most. I haven't experienced that level of backstabbing, bullying, lying, and overall deceit since high school. I didn't know adults could act that way. It's been incredibly hard to believe in the good.

I am discovering, in tears, that I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop for months. My experience with my previous landlord was so incredibly awful that I just keep expecting something to fall apart here. And I can't let go of that and trust and believe this is home. I'm starting to. I like going weeks without hearing from my landlords, and yet knowing they'd be here in a minute if I needed it.

I have experienced deep deep deep betrayal, and distrust of myself. I'm done talking about it because it's old news. But 2 years ago right now was the hardest time of my life. I didn't know if I'd make it through. I don't even feel sad anymore. I just feel...done. Maybe 2 years is long enough to start getting real distance. I know there will never be any real closure, but there's an end to the daily anxiety. And that's something huge.

Most recently, and what tipped me over the edge, was a kind of passive aggressive bullying I didn't ever expect. While, of course, wrong and misguided and awful, I'm sorry I gave this person that ammunition. And, perhaps in turn, the pain, to lash out. This won't be read by said individual, but maybe if I put it out there. I'm deeply sorry what I shared hurt you, I am. You should know me enough to know I didn't intend that. I hope you can see beyond mere words and see who I am, see that what I shared doesn't define who I am in any way. Mostly, I hope you find peace.

My life is just so incredibly odd sometimes. It has led me places I couldn't imagine. I would have nearly none of my closest friends if it wasn't for my darling baby. I can't imagine what I would be doing, or where my heart would be.

I know I feel a bit of peace tonight. I cannot explain where it's finally come from, just that it is there.

I am at peace with whomever chooses to be in my life, and whomever chooses not to. I am at peace with my own choices, and mostly:

I am at peace with who I am.

quality > quantity

I had a moment, driving home from errands today, in harsh wind with a crying toddler. I had moment, where I reframed everything that's been really deeply bothering me. Where I realized I needed to make much much more intentional choices with my relationships.

Like the light flipped on and the pieces fit - slammed - into place. I understand much better, without placing extra and unnecessary blame on myself. So, if I can understand, reframe, and reintention my romantic relationships and my approach to them, what next?

Friendship. Or, more so, acquaintance-ship. I had let blow-up drama really infiltrate my soul. And rightly so, because this was awful. I bought into it and responded to being bullied with stubbornness at my own detriment. No, being bullied is not okay. And with less on the line, I might fight back. But this is absolutely not worth it.

Instead of being stubborn and 'not backing down', I am choosing a different path. I am choosing, for myself, to rid my life of negativity and bullying and drama. And how that choice might appear to others is not my concern.

And, on the same vein, I am for the first time actively choosing to let people out of my life. I am forever a fighter and will battle to the death to keep someone - anyone - in my life. And sometimes that's worthwhile. Most of the time? It's not. And there is a huge and amazing difference between passively letting someone walk away, and actively showing them the door.

My door has been slamming a lot lately.

And the people who remain? Multitudes more valuable.

gratitude: the little things

I almost didn't write this tonight. Because I haven't been feeling terribly grateful. And then I realized that this is the exact moment when I need to write this the most, it's the whole point.

So this is a little different.

I'm grateful for the sweep of evening misty fog that slips over the pastures and turns known roads into mysterious adventures.

I'm grateful for bright sun on equally bright, if dulling, crispy leaves. For the lashing winds that sweep this season away into the next along side the leaves of yesterday. For rain rain rain that drowns down the sorrows and cozies up the middle of the days.

I'm grateful for the quiet mornings, lighter now, that are a welcome routine for the first time ever. These long lasting moments of still, with hot tea and cold water and breathes to myself. 

I'm grateful for the final chill in the air, for snuggling up deep in blankets and sweaters and hot cups of anything.

This is my season. This is the season of family and love. Which makes it painful and beautiful and lonely and sweet. And I choose to focus on the beautiful and sweet.

The coziest of cozy.

gratitude: the beginning: strength

I don't typically take part in Gratitude Month. Mostly because I think I do a very good job of always remaining grateful and don't feel the 'need' to make it public.

This year, right now, I do.

My life is hard and stressful and I'm struggling daily to see the gratitude and joy. It's there, it's just behind a lot of sleeplessness and number crunching and stress stress stress. 

So, each Sunday, for the month (and beyond?) I will be writing a quick 'gratitude' note. For myself, for my soul, and maybe to help someone else see the good in their own chaos.

Right now?

Strength. I am deeply grateful for strength. For the strength I have learned and grown into. The strength to follow my heart and breathe deep. The strength to do everything I do everyday and constantly learn. My parenting is a testimony and so is my depth of friendship. I have felt both tested, but I come out of darkness feeling bold strength.

And this kid. I cried while he laughed and played legos and was so damn strong tonight. Through hard nights and a mom who can't always be here even when I'm here. I think often about why I'm able to do this, and I have never given thanks for the strength of my son. The strength to share me, love me through my faults and shortcomings, to giggle and count with me, to wait wait wait for attention. I cry, and love him deep.

We are strong, the two of us. We conquer everything.

I am grateful.

human inspiration; fill me up

I've been thinking long and hard about relationships of late. The people who I am friends with, who I work to be friends with, and those who are effortlessly there.

I am forever known to be the one in every relationship to try the hardest. Always trying to 'make it work' and 'put in the effort'. Especially my friendships. I've lost of lot of friends in the last couple years - and some stung more than others.

But what I've been thinking about, in the wake of a really rough couple weeks that tested everything, is who fills up my soul.

Who, when the shit goes down, do I seek out for that undeniable lift? Not the fun friend, not the oldest friend, not the mom friend who might 'get it'. But the people who, even during the briefest of conversations, completely lift my spirit and fill up my soul.

I am by nature a solo artist. I'm 'too independent', and a whole other list of adjective that make me essentially hard up for quality relationships. I am introverted - being alone is where I go to fill up my soul and find joy and peace. Crowds give me anxiety, and even most friendships.

But here's the point, the crux of this post:

I have this collection of people who feel like home. Who fill up my soul with only a hello. Who understand me without my explanation. Who say the things that make sense, and make me feel whole - without ever knowing that's what they're doing or asking anything in return.

These people have come to me in all the strangest, most random ways. But having them in my life is so incredibly sweet and I know I'm richer for it.

Somehow, even in knowing this, I didn't relate it to romantic relationships. I never internally demanded that connectedness from a romantic partner. I don't know why, because obviously that is one of, in not the, biggest and most influential relationship one has.

Realizing this came as an amazing shock. And I can guarantee I'll never be the same.

For those people who fill up my soul, I can only hope I do the same for them.

love first, trust always

I'll warn future readers right now that this is not a happy post. This is a post full of big heart hurt for all the babies. So much hurt.

I started my morning by working on my early childhood education class. A module on health and safety. I didn't expect the 25 minute long video outlining over and over the signs (with graphic simulations) of abuse and neglect. I haven't been able to finish it. I cried hot tears and held my baby and reached out to like-minded, gentle-souled mamas.

There is a reason I don't watch the news. A reason I avoid reading articles that pop up on my Facebook newsfeed. I can't deal. I'm too empathetic. My entire day just folded after that. I tried to shake it off, but all I could picture was a little girl with handprint bruises on her arms. Why did they need to include that? Why?

And what's more, what's ironic and awful and makes me the most sick? It's deemed a 'parenting choice' to hit your child. But only if it doesn't leave a mark. It's deemed a 'parenting choice' to force your child to eat tabasco for 'a dirty mouth'. That's not abuse. That's a parenting choice.

And, we're all doing our best.

What garbage. What absolute shit.

I cannot shake the anger and hurt and pain tonight. For these sweet sweet babies that don't know this isn't okay. And it's not your fault.

I am also the parent who thinks it isn't okay to bribe, isn't okay to manipulate, isn't okay to let a child cry without comforting them. I know I'm so far left. I've recently realized how incredibly far to this side I am.

But how can anyone with a soul think that hitting a child is ever okay? That physically forcing and causing a child pain is okay? I do not think you are a good parent.

And, I'm tired of defending my parenting. I'm tired of downplaying my beliefs or, god fucking forbid, altering them just because someone second guesses me. It's hard, I think, to stand by what is right when everyone is saying we're all doing the best we can and we're all good mothers. I am a good mother. I am an amazing mother. Perfect? Hell no. Never. But I know I am doing it right.

So don't tell me that my son is too attached to me. He loves me, he trusts me. He knows I will always stand by him, hold him, comfort him, pick him up and kiss his tears away.
Don't tell me he'll never be independent or never learn to self soothe. He is exactly who he is supposed to be right this second, and I will never rush his growing up, never push his independence, and who wants to self soothe anyway?
Don't tell me I let him do anything he wants, or that he manipulates anyone. Don't tell me that I need to hurt or force or manipulate or train my son in any way, EVER. 

If you want to tell me this, if you believe this, we probably shouldn't be friends. We absolutely shouldn't be.

I have zero doubt. Love and trust and mutual respect will always win, and will always build better and stronger and the most amazing little humans.

the dream I didn't know I had

What began as a 'way to stay home', somewhere along the way, morphed into my dream come true job.

I have never been 'career-minded', never cared much as long as it let me live my life. And truthfully, that's all I thought this venture would be.

Now, when it feels tangible, everything is different.

I have moved past the heartache home search, layed the flooring, slowly collecting and re-purposing.

Tonight I worked on menu plans. Tonight I made lists of parent forms. Tonight I stood in the middle of the playroom, picturing it all. Tonight I saw the things I was worried about coming together so seamlessly.

I'm dreaming of fabric-scrap bunting, DIY play kitchens, sweet dress up corners, the coziest of reading spots. Of cubbies with names and handprints, smoothies and little pancakes for breakfast, dirty hands and faces in the yard, seasonal arts and crafts, laughter laughter laughter.

And mostly, I'm dreaming of nurturing little hearts and minds.

I've never felt more absolutely sure of anything I've ever done.

selfish pain

I have no reason, precisely, to feel like I do tonight.
Things are going well, the house is superficially clean, I have a jug of wine.

But what's absolutely ripping me apart right now is how little respect I feel. I...well, this is bitchy and selfish, I hope my genuine friends take it completely accurately.

I can't deal with my mom friends complaining about how much their husbands work, how hard it is...blah blah blah. I KNOW it is, and I am NOT disregarding your feelings. AT ALL. But, be here for a day. Feel this.

Feel the 100% 24/7 single parent life for just one day. I'm not saying I have it harder, I don't. But...this is not something you probably think about when you're lifting up another woman who's husband works all the time or doesn't appreciate her. That is shitty and awful and I'm so sorry. But...why is it that I feel no love sometimes?

My life is a constant. There is no built in break hand-off-the-kid. There is no income other than whatever I can scrape together. There is no other love in this house, there is no one to bounce parenting ideas off of. There is no one else. There is.no.break.

And yes, I have friends who will gladly babysit, and I am forever grateful. But leaving my boy with a babysitter is a huge fucking far cry from saying "honey, I need a few hours...can you watch the kids?" or dropping off at the other parent's house.

I've written this before, and nothing changes. Nothing will. I don't expect it, too.

I just...feel really really really angry tonight.

And yes, it's probably highly due to what-2-years-ago-looked-like memories. And how long it's been. And how hard it is. And...

Well, this is the pain.

There is so very much good it's astounding.

But this is the pain; unabridged.

self love: curves and all

Sitting in silence, staring.

I feel like something is coming to life, unfurling in my depths. I looked in the mirror, tired eyes and rushed makeup. I looked in the mirror, later, to see love reflected back.

I, as most all people do, have searched and struggled and wondered at this concept of self-love. The adage of loving yourself before anyone else is true, of course. But this journey of self acceptance turned love is big. And long. And not what I expected.

I want to write more about it, the real paths I took.

But now, I look at myself, tonight. And find my self confidence and strength and esteem comes from within. Not from the love or acceptance of anyone else. This confidence I thought surely tied to a tangled relationship? No. It's mine. Everything good this body is and does and feels and shows? It's mine. All mine.

I see comments about "if you don't love your body - change it" and my heart aches for these woman (and men). The assumption that changing the shape of you is necessary for your happiness is complete garbage. I look at pictures of me as a teenager and I was stick thin. I look at pictures of me now, and am only starting to recognize myself. I will never be 'thin' again. I will never 'skinny'.

And you know the truth? I don't want to be. I adore my curves, I own them. This body is mine. This body made a human, nourishes a human, and moves fucking mountains every.damn.day.

I make excuses like "I don't have the time to exercise", but the big fat truth is that I don't want to. After having my son, I felt a little shamed into 'losing weight' or 'toning'. But I don't actually want to. I want my body exactly how it is. Where is the shame in that? The shame in loving yourself?

This more more more change change change never be happy attitude that so many people have is so incredibly harming in every aspect of life. This idea that we must all find joy or satisfaction in exercise or physical self-'improvement' is, again, garbage.

I am pretty incredibly satisfied with my cupcakes, glass of wine, and all.the.damn.curves.

hearthurt glad

Positive that I should be asleep, or working, or somehow forward moving. But this is, this is in the big deep ways. I haven't written - really written - in at least 6 months. I feel fragile and vulnerable and yet completely clear and strong and solid standing.

I always forget what words do for me. Ground me, lift me. Find me.

I know I needed this tonight, but couldn't break away from should-do to get to need-to-do. So now dark silence and a bright computer screen and a second (third) glass of wine.

Oh, I've been here. So often, too often. In curled up couches, or quiet corners. In open rooms and back alleys. I have found words in every space. I am feeling fully tonight. Good, sweet. Build-my-home full up on life. Silence between soul-sisters. Sweet tears watching babies grow up. And hard. So much hard. I'm seeing in quick tempers and raised voices and scalding tears how much the past few years have carved out of me. Into me. A totem.

I'm skittish late at night and sometimes, on the hard days, in the glaring sun. I worry and work myself up and drive around in circles avoiding streets we ran. I drive by bricks that hold my beginnings and ends and it astonishes me. It was yesterday and a different life. Staggered steps and chains and broken floorboards and so much heart hurt. I drive by and it's amazing I survived that season after season at all. I drive by and wonder if anyone sees those shadows in my eyes. I drive by, rarely, but with intent. I drive our memory lanes and sometimes smile. I drive and drive and try and try.

And then, I drive a little faster, and turn down a road I hardly know. And find myself in a place I call home. In a place that feels safe. I am still skittish, it's my nature. I am still all the things I've always been. But that clench of fear is gone. I am in a bubble. I wondered if I was running, thinking that was a mistake. It was not. I ran from something that sucked up the air from my lungs. I ran from something that didn't belong. I ran, and took my heart with me.

And am I still running? Or, am I faltered? Another, another stepping stone? I am tired worn to the bone of walking these endless paths to somewhere else. I want to stay. I want forever home love life.

Why the fear in admission? Am I not supposed to want or dream or hope? Am I supposed to lower standards? Or raise them up and hold high?

I'm playing little heart games with myself tonight. For nights in a row. Of you don't mean that don't say that. But, I do. And where's the harm in that? In meaning it and saying it and dreaming it? I am. Fully aware and conscious even in half sleeping slumber. Will the data matter, or will it just be more on a never ending pile? My spreadsheets are full, I'm done.

And then, in late nights, I feel the creep up my back of why why why and remember panic in my chest that locked me up away. I remember my words coming out silent and my tears falling and nothing nothing nothing stopping it. Love, that is.

Would I want, be ready for, that? Again?

I wish sometimes I could say no. I'm not ready don't want push it away. It's like I'll never learn.

And truthfully, I'm so unbreakable-y glad. I've never learned to stop loving dreaming wishing wanting seeing the best.

self truths for love

Truth is, I've been single for nearly 2 years. VERY nearly. And even before that, there was zero stability or health in a relationship.

So, I've been thinking a lot about this subject.

I told a friend, somewhat in jest but mostly honesty, that I was "so over chasing men". And the next day bemoaned how hard it was not to chase or conform my life to or obsess over the potential.

I look at my own heart, in spare quiet moments, and am deeply amazed that I am whole. I am more whole, and solid, and heart sturdy, than I ever have been. That whole triumph out of hardship thing is true. So much true. Did my son make me whole? No, he gave me reason to pull my heart together, self-mend, and respect myself more than I ever thought possible. It is hard, trusting again; it is equally hard wondering if I shouldn't. It is mostly near impossible mountains I've surmounted to get to here. To get to I am worthy. To get to if you want me, tell me. To get to sitting right here with full faith that the right relationship will come to me. 

And? And. 

Another friend, a week prior, asked me what I was looking for. My answer came rushing out, easy and clear. That I have learned to disregard the lists of 'little things' - the likes and dislikes, even the religion or politics - because I've had the perfect-on-paper. And? I've learned.

I have learned that what matters at the end of the day is bigger, deeper, easier, and harder to find. So what do I look for? Joy and laughter and respect. Passion and love and comfortable silences. The little things are surmountable, for the most part, if approached with love, laughter, respect (for everyone), and an open mind.

I could wax poetic for hours and pages and oh how I need to. But it's simple, easy. Quiet and loud in your face. It's love. I felt it, once, maybe. I felt it and it destroyed me and I have never said I regretted it. It taught me what love could be and everything it wasn't yet. It taught me my limits and demands and self truths.

And here, right now? I'm more ready in my state of disarray than I have ever been. My heart is built strong and steady and sure and somehow more open.

I have felt the heartache of too many friends lately, seen too many loves and families fall apart. It's hard to watch, hard to feel. It makes me want to reach my arms out and tell my story raw. I can overcome and so can you. I made it here, right here, so strong. So can you.

Because this feeling? Right this second? Utter trust and peace and joy and faith? It doesn't come to those who do not suffer. Heartaches bring the best things in life.

I am going on and on and feeling poetry rise up in me for the first time in so damn long.

Wide eyed and exhausted and ready for the world.

rediscovered hope

This big blank screen is hard. I have lists of profound, meaningful, and important things to write about. I'm filled up to the brim with topics.

But when I can finally, finally, sit down to write...I'm baffled. I don't remember how to do this. And so, yet, I do. I close my eyes in quiet dark silence and let my heart spill out.

I'll sum it once and let go: I've been through the ringer. The last month, 3 months, 6, a year, two years. It's just been hard after hard. Good in between and long stretches of survival. I'm ready to do more than get by or survive. I'm ready to live.

Ready to shore up the walls of my heart and rediscover everything good.

I am pleasantly surprised to find that I am still optimistic at heart. That I can still feel hope and love and passion. That I still, deep down believe the best in people - always.

I remember, one night near 10 years ago, saying I had a feeling big things were about to happen. I smile and laugh to myself every time I remember that, and how every time since, I have been dead on. The air feels different tonight. Life feels full, and there is equal good and hard today.

There is hope.

little house with a big heart

Life, and most importantly, motherhood, is a balancing act.
Lately I've been soaking it up. The dishes can wait, the laundry can pile up. I just soak up the baby kisses and long nurses and all his big learning and growing. And all the laughter. This kid is a giggle machine, and it's so magical - best music on earth.

This leads me to a quiet peace and comfort I found tonight. I've been a wound-up, stressed-out mess the past couple weeks. I will fully admit how awfully I deal with waiting and 'limbo'. I've been in some sort of limbo for a long time now, but once I finally set my sights on my Big Goal, I just wanted it. Right then, in that moment. Unfortunately, the Universe had other ideas.

I found my perfect little dream home. In my price range, great location, big yard, fantastic landlady. Everything. My heart pretty nearly explodes every time I drive by it. (Secretly -- oops -- I have huge huge hope wish dreamy dreams about this house for the future).

I took no time in applying, and went to sign the lease weeks ago. To find out the house had been broken into and vandalized. I was so shook up. I went ahead with the lease and we worked out details of getting everything fixed. But I was so shaken and so hurt. I couldn't figure it out, couldn't place the emotion, until late that night. That was my home. It wasn't yet, but it was in my heart.

And it has taken so much longer to even start the work that needs to be done. Waiting on the insurance check, my move in date has been pushed out further and further and is now a full month after I was originally scheduled to move in. It's hard, and frustrating, and maddening. I cannot start making an income until I move in, I can't move forward. I am angry and frustrated and sad.

And then tonight I realized how lucky I am that I have had this time with Eli. I know the moment I get the go-ahead, it will be a mad whirlwind of packing, moving, unpacking, working working working. I might have missed the revelry of his first steps, or not felt I had the time to nurse all day and snuggle just because. He's growing fast and in leaps and bounds. I don't want to miss a single becoming-rare quiet moment with him.

And so, 2 weeks will fly by. I will move, and settle into our home. I will line the mantle with candles, the walls with pictures, and the windowsills with plants. I will work and love in this home for years. I can wait for that.

And when I'm sad or frustrated, I take a quick drive by my house and a grin lights up my face. I tell Eli that's your home.

I think perhaps some people don't understand the magnitude of this move for me. Or what this house and home means to me. It means family and life and love, it means the ability to stay home with my boy. It is the home Eli will grow in, and a home I can finally be proud of. It will be mine, as I am now. This is a dream, more than I knew I had been dreaming.

It's nothing fancy, it's quirky and special and sweet. It's bright and homey and honest. This house, this home, has roots and a soul - a personality. I'm aching to learn it's unique noises and shadows and creaks in the floor. I'm dying to pour my own family love into it and paint the walls with child's laughter.

I never thought a house could mean so much to me.

on being bold; reconciliation

I am a big believer in letters. Mostly unsent letters. They lighten my heart-load and give me pause; they let me resolve myself and learn my own truths.

But, something like a year and a half ago, I sent a letter. I dropped in a mailbox and sped away. And it ultimately changed my life completely. It brought me the beautiful baby snoring in bed, but it also brought me soulbreak. Since then, I have lost so much of my passion and ability to be bold when it really counts.

I have been clear and honest and bold and brave: truth.
But my heart was not on the line. I had nothing to risk, and I wasn't exposing my raw raw self. I don't think I knew how to, not anymore.

In light of my resolve to, well, resolve and find closure - I tried. Oh, I tried. And in the big bright middle of trying, I realized I wanted to be that woman again.

I wanted to be the woman who wrote a letter splashed in tears and smudged with ink. I wanted to be the woman who would never give up, and never back down. I wanted to be bold.

My friend asked me if I regretted it. Then, and now.
Not at all. My cheeks might be a little red, my heart a little skipping-a-beat, my throat a little dry. But there is no regret in a life led.

I feel lighter, lifted. It isn't about the outcome, it's about the act.

Tell your story, show your cards, splay your heart, and cry your tears.

Be authentic and real and honest. There is nothing more empowering or sexy.

I have learned, and I am taught.

fearless constance

It takes a village. Not only to raise a child, but to live.
I am a fiercely to-a-fault independent. It's how I am wired. It takes great strength and humility and bravery for me to ask for help. Especially with the big stuff.

But I still. I reached out, and what boomeranged back was simple and sweet and heartfelt and shook it all up for me.

I've been big big struggling with the journey I'm on, with the path I've taken, and mostly all with the deep running rejection I feel.

All of this crap in my head and heart about why Eli's biological father isn't involved, and more more more my fears. It's...well, it's a product of why isn't he trying? I don't want him to, let's make that clear. I would turn into the most absolutely dangerous mama bear if he did. BUT. It is unfathomable to me that a father could not be effected by, could not want to know, his own flesh and blood. It is so insane to me that I just keep thinking he'll try. Yeah, guess what? He doesn't care.

Equal parts heartbreaking and liberating. 

So huge, unwavering gratitude to the beautiful women who responded to my heartfelt plea for simple understanding. To the women who lifted me, with simple words and a lot of love.

I will not hide, and fear will not rule me.

spring cleanse; closure

Spring is always a fresh start for me, a new beginning. I don't do new years resolutions, but I do spring cleanses.

There are many this year.

And one of biggest?

Finding closure.

I have always needed a finality to everything. Jobs, relationships, everything. I need to know what happened, why, what did I do wrong/right, is there anything more I can do, etc. etc. I cannot walk away without 'closure'.

I am working incredibly hard on finding closure internally. To stop seeking, demanding, and requiring closure from another person. To instead find a way to peace and acceptance in my own heart.

This is coming on the heels of a big fat I'm-not-over-you week. It's been hard and emotional and came out of the blue. (Really, it didn't. Really I totally know why). When someone who means something big and real to you just disappears, vanishes from your life, it's damn hard to find any closure or peace. To move on in any real way.

And in the wake of moving, and everything leaving this place means (the bittersweet tears are flowing already), there is another lack of closure. A why-don't-I-hate-you-more open-ended string of questions.

The first step here, for me, in both?

Don't push away my memories or feelings. Feel all the feelings. Remember all the details. Remember the good, feel the love. Because that was part of it, too. Burying the positive feelings is not a step along the path to peace.

What is that step? Letting my heart feel what it needs to feel. Allowing myself that.

Do I want to daydream about what could have been? Allowing myself moments for that. Does something make me remember that certain smile? Allowing myself that memory.

I have focused on the bad to forget the good, and that's not the right direction to be taking.

It's hard, and it hurts. Like hell.

But this process needs to happen. Two fold over.

fearless

I have dinner dishes to do, packing to (re)start, endless toys to pick up. Instead, I'm sipping pink champange and writing.

I have been woefully absent for my blog world, and I'm working to remedy the situation. Because I need this space, for me.

My life is still quietly in limbo, but the sunshine is peeking through the grey dim, and I'm seeing so much light headed my way.

My sweet little dream home is getting fixed up, just for me. I like to think that it was built for me, for my little family. The search for The House was so much harder in so many ways than I expected. My goal was not only a home for my family, but also a house from which to run a business - a daycare. That's a tall order on one (so far non-existent) income. I still have huge huge fear about this endeavor, this giant leap of so much faith. But this house, this is home. We had a huge set back in the renting process, and it shook me kind of deeply. It also, ultimately, made me realize how in love I had fallen and how sure I am that this is The House.

I can't sleep at night because I'm busy dreaming up DIY projects and seeing my family grow, watching Eli learn and discover in a real home. This house, this is going to be the stuff of magic and dreams and big love. I know it.

My every moment focus is on moving, packing, money, classes, list list list after list. I'm overwhelmed, and sometimes have to step away and reconnect with Eli. I feel scattered and a little muddled. But it's coming together. Slowly, surely. Sometimes in a swoop. The Universe is wholly providing.

The list of daycare license requirements is long and frustrating and time consuming. Classes, certificates, tests. I have never worked so hard for something before. I have never had a tangible goal like this. It feels good, and odd. And sort of foreign.

And, deep down, I have big big dreams for this blog. Huge.

And, and, and? For the first time in my 24 years, I am not afraid to try.

I swear, this kid is teaching me to be fearless. And bold. And strong.

My life is taking shape. And it looks good.

quiet nights; hard nights

So much has been on my mind and in my heart lately, and I have had no time or space to express it.

Long, tear-filled nights of mama begging baby to sleep while he destroys the apartment. We have been at odds. Frustrated with each other, neither one getting what we need. Today I finally gave in. I stopped saying "no", stopped trying to redirect, stopped everything. You want to climb the table? Okay, I'll take everything off. You want to be up? Okay, up we go. Down? Alright. Mamamamamamama? I'm right here. Bored? Here's tupperware; eat that book, it's yours.

And we're okay today. We're good, even. Asleep by 10, and that's a big step. Only a few moments of big big frustration on my part. We are starting to find a groove and sync up.

I didn't expect this. I thought, as rough as daycare had been, that it would be a breeze to be able to be with him every day, all day. And while it's beautiful and sweet and glorious to not miss a moment, it's been so hard. So hard to realize that in the time I was working, he flourished from teeny baby to big bad almost-toddler. One toy for an hour isn't cutting it. Baby is bored. And mama has to be on top of it. So no more 3 day rainy stretches at home, and no more endless snuggles. This busy boy needs to get out and conquer the world.

And so, we do. And in that, I step so very far out of my comfort zone. I am not a social person at heart, nor am I good at doing new things alone. I feel awkward and uncomfortable and afraid. And this kid? He makes me better. For his sake, I make friends. For his sake, I leave the house. For his sake, I am bold and strong.

When I say he saved me, I mean it. I looked at him tonight, in a brief moment of snuggles, and burst into tears. Took those chubby cheeks in my hands and kissed that drool right off his face. It's so hard, and so much, and so sweet.

I try not to feel resentful, or angry, or anything like that. And mostly, I succeed. But then I think (okay, so often I think...), nobody really gets this. I have single mom friends, who get nights off when their ex takes the baby and child support. Yeah, you don't get it. I have married mom friends who say "I might as well be single" or complain (fairly) about their husbands. Shut up. I smile with something akin to grace and empathy. But inside? I'm screaming.

I feel deeply lucky and blessed for my life and my son. But if only I had one person who could actually understand. But, I know deep down, no one ever will. My path is hard and strange and unique. My fears are huge and no amount of empathy salves them. My late-night pain? It's just mine. And mostly, I take deep breaths. I hold my son and promise him big big promises that he will know the best life possible.

Some days, I don't think I can come close to raising him right. Some days, it feels hopeless and endless and tired and pain and grey. Some days I wonder and wish and dream and want how it was before. And then there's this little person, this special perfect little person who chose me. Who screams and laughs and smiles and tells me mamamamama and claps and dances and  loves me. This little baby turned boy who looks at me with open, endless, unaltered love. And I think, this is the love I've dreamed of. This sweet soft cheek against mine, this bright eyed smile, this playful little dreamer. This baby is all me, and all mine.

It doesn't change anything, but it helps.

And the friends. The friends who, while they cannot understand, they know. They know my story and my path and all the reasons why I am who I am. Why this boy is extra special material.

Eli, my big strong crazy monkey man, you are it. I made you from starlight, all by myself. And you can do anything; just watch your mama. I'll make you proud; and of you I always will be.

warrior woman; hear me roar

My eyes are barely open, and yet I cannot sleep.
Such nervous excited anxious emotions running through me.

I feel on the very precipice of everything good.

I hold bated breath and let the hopeful joy spring up in my heart, flow out and shine up the world.

Pushing off the doubt and fear and let the dreams wash over me.

Also? This is big. The quiet, near silent, and completely personal letting go of The Big Fear. It's happened in stages and taken far over a year. But my heart no longer leaps to my throat and I'm no longer search search searching in fear. I am glad, despite it all, that I stayed in this apartment. I no longer feel like I am running away, but running towards.

And that's a big difference.

Also also? Being myself is the most freeing feeling on earth. Trusting myself? Way better.

I am recovering, recovered? I am no longer ruled, or governed, or shadowed. This huge huge shaking off is so un-apparent, but oh how it's happening. Each day, with tears and anger and release. With long talks, baby and I. With explanations and sharing and talking and believing. With openness and honesty and faith in myself.

The people in my life who know, they know. I chose you all for a reason. To know my story, to trust with my heart. I am stronger because of you.

I'm coming out the other side a warrior.

a new beginning; chapter refresh

I started writing this as a simple Facebook status update, but realized it was too much and too long, and ultimately too important not to blog on.
I've been dropping lots of hints, and a lot of people in my life already know my big life changes, but I want to start documenting my journey. So here we go.

This will be Eli's last week at his current daycare. It's been a good fit until now, but is no longer right for either one of us. I'm not going to delve too deeply into that, at least not now. But, while it is a perfectly fine daycare, and most likely a fabulous fit for a lot of parents and children, there are core beliefs that are not in line with my parenting. And I am finding it increasingly hard to maintain a continuity in his life, between my parenting and the daycare setting.
Beyond that, I have always struggled with him being away from me 8+ hours a day. It was not my parenting plan, nor is it an option for us anymore. The last few weeks have felt horribly wrong, dropping him off with big tears for us both. My heart in my throat, trying to convince myself it was 'normal', and 'other parents can do this'. It's not for us. I finally listened to myself and my sweet boy.

I am starting the process of becoming a licensed in-home daycare provider. This is a huge leap of faith, adjustment for both of us, and all around risk. I have no idea how the pieces are going to come together. I decided to take this journey less than a week ago. But that's how I am - once I decide whole-heartedly in something, I dive. Head first. And that's how I know it's right.
I was applying for full time outside-the-home jobs, had been for almost 2 months, when I finally stopped and stood still. Looked myself in the eye and asked "why has this not been happening?" I was very halfhearted in my job search, and something felt vibrationally off. It came in a big rush of relief and tears: that was no longer my path. I said to hell with it and to hell with the doubts and most importantly to hell with the naysayers. I meditated and prayed and reminded myself of promises I made us both. I got shaky and worried about the logistics and what a big leap this is, and mind-dumped to my mom. In typical fashion, she told me to follow my heart, and it will all work out. I wouldn't be able to do this without her.

I'm starting my STARS online course today, and signing up for CPR classes. I hope to finish at least my STARS training this week, while Eli is in daycare for these last 4 days. From there, paperwork like crazy.
The biggest hurdle right now is finding the perfect house. It's hard and frustrating and I almost throw in the towel every time I look at Craigslist and come up empty handed or dreaming of something out of my price range. So I walk away from the frustration and play with Eli and breathe.

I close my eyes and dream of the perfect house, with the perfect yard. Warm and bright, cozy and clean. Full of love and laughter and growing up. Where Eli can grow and learn, where I can be a part of other childrens' lives - to nurture and respect and teach and love.

The idea of being present every day to raise my child has left me in joyful tears today. I've missed too much already, and his baby days are flashing by.  I cannot stand to be apart from his journey anymore. And to couple that with the chance to be a part of other childrens' journeys, and ease dear parents' minds at who is helping guide their children - well, it's a dream I didn't know I was dreaming.

It's a long road I'm speeding down, but my heart is leading me, and I'm following faithfully.

Back, and home, and brand new

3 am is not an ideal time for blogging. And yet, I know sleep will not claim me until this:

My world shook. Hard. I dreaded, expected, anticipated, mourned over this moment. The moment that shook me beyond words. I played over and over in my head; I have for over a year, how I would react. Cool, calm. A punch. But, the overwhelming get the fuck out did not occur to me. I felt blind, tunnel vision. Physical response so severe my friends had to hold on to me and tell me to breathe. I, oh, I have no words for how grateful I am for those two lovely ladies. Who broke all the rules, bummed me a cigarette, and turned my night back around.

I, well, I cried harder tears, doubled over in the street, than I have in over that same year. I cried for things I couldn't word, things I can't understand, and mostly? Maybe? To let the fucking shit go.

I don't feel like saying anything to him anymore. I cried hard and deep until the tears dried up. I spun, and laughed, and somewhere in the haze of smoke and indiscriminate eyes, I let go.
I, head held high, came back. Fearless. With a smile and did not ignore, but simply was done caring.

Tonight hurt in a way that is impossible to describe, and yet, cleansed me deeply.

I hold my sweet sleeping baby boy and realize that no part of him is anything but me, biology be damned.

And?

Life does get better. There is some quiet hope in the dim. If I close my eyes and smile wide, I don't notice the lights go up.

Tonight, I think I came back.

beyond the package; a little irony

We are all, more or less, seeking that other person who...well, what? Perfectly compliments us? Or utterly matches us?

I feel this battle, this internal debate near constantly. They say that opposites attract, but I think we've all learned that mere attraction only runs so deep. And your "perfect match" is "out there" (Match.com anyone? Been there. Lived that.), but if someone absolutely matches me, that is a recipe for boredom.

If my current not-really dating life, it's so much different than BB (Before Baby). I'm not just going with the flow or 'seeing where this leads' or even, really, completely, 'living in the moment'. Probably not good. But, right now, if there isn't a solid future potential there's just no point. I don't have the time or energy or head/heart space for that.

I have finally perhaps become the I Want A Husband girl. I really didn't intend to be this girl at 24. Or, maybe, ever. But I want a home, with a man to come home to (or oh goodness, who comes home to me), babies under foot, white picket damn fence.

And as I write this I think woman, this is what you've always wanted. Since I was toddling around kissing my babydolls. I am made to be a mother, and made to be a wife. Made to make a home. It is my heart.

Thus, a husband. Am I avidly searching? No.

But in half-assed 'dating' attempts, I realize and question so much. (Data gathering, right mom?)

How much 'perfect match' vs 'intriguing opposite' do I really want in a partner? And where does blind love take you? I know that really out of control love can lead you (me) down imperfect roads. Hard roads. And animal attraction? It's fun, but it's ultimately lonely. I have dreams of who I might end up with, and it's all lovely. But reality? Reality is that love is so undefinable, and uncontrollable.

Will I fall in love with a man who shares my every parenting practice? Who is my awkward blend of hippie and redneck? Will I find a person who wants exactly the same type of house I do? The same number of kids? The same taste in music and love for literature?

Probably not. And how much do those things matter? I've blamed those differences for a failed relationship, for...years. But then I realize it was so.much.bigger.

So what is really the key combination? I know there are no answers, but my questions are so so huge tonight. They feel as if they take all the space inside me. Push the air and fear out and oh how I dream dream of love. I doubt it, maybe still a little. But never fully. I half hearted worry that I'll dive down the wrong path again, get hurt all over. End up 'wasting' another year. Get caught up in how something looks and what could be and push too hard. Because it's all really heavy.

And then, I focus hard on how I want it to feel. And try to trust in the delivery.

clarity; comprehension; compassion

I'm working oh so hard on January. Trying to love a month I don't naturally. Trying to find a balance and peace in life limbo. Trying to love and accept myself, to grow.

My world these days is big and wide and sort of lonely. Long days at home while sweet baby is at daycare. Trying (so much trying) to keep up a routine for when I am working again. I think so much in these days. The emotions are big and hard. And sometimes great. And then I see this boy's face split open in a grin that's just for me and my world shrinks down again to slobbery kisses.

Late at night I sit and think and can't sleep. It's quiet. It's still. The tears pour, and my heart seems more sure. Light of day can blind and awaken, but nighttime is the time for warm dreams.

I didn't start this year with resolutions simply because it was a new year. This was a giant shift, a transition time in my life. From living the life that was handed to me, to choosing deliberately where next to step.

This year, this time in my life, is about a few things. Big things.

Forgiveness. Not for anyone else, but for myself. Forgiving people who have hurt me, hurt the ones I love. Abandoned, betrayed, disappointed. And ultimately, it's about forgiving myself. That one is the absolute hardest.

Trust. Forgiveness and trust walk hand in hand. And so, not only and not so much, do I intend to learn trust for other, but mostly and absolutely I have to be able to trust myself again. That trust, in my own judgement, was so violently shaken in the past 2 years, that I have a hard time believing myself.  It will come, I believe, in time.

Love. Forgiveness and trust wrap love up in a big warm hug. Of course, I will forever dream, dreamer that I am, of the Big Love. But, my love for everything, for life, is blooming again. I focus, quiet my mind, and let the love pour out. For my son, it is easy. Oh, he has taught me love again. Love like nothing else. But I learn also, again and again, to love myself.

And the present, the gift of the now. I am such a dreamer, that I am always remembering the past or fantasizing about the future, and sometimes I'm letting the present moment slip by my eyes and by my heart. Again, I take a beat and look at this little being who is growing upsofast and my heart skids to a stop. Forget everything else. Live right here in this big little minute forever with baby laughter games and big big eyes that look at you like you're his whole wide world. Every day, every single day.

And ultimately, newly for me, the challenge of action. I am not a woman of action. I am a woman of thought and dreams and pro/con lists. I am a follow-my-heart-but-only-after-years-of-deliberation woman. I don't want to wait years, anymore. I want to take big bold action. It's muddled up with trust, again. Trust that if I fall I'll be okay. Because, honestly: I thought I fell too hard to survive. Instead, I made two lives.

2014, I'm ready for you. I'm ready for everything.