A Day in the Life

Tag: love

  • Beach Days

    Beach days were always the highlight of summer growing up. Hearing the waves crash against the shore as my feet sunk into the sand. The warm breeze drifting along as the sun beat down from above head. To me, the experience was always relaxing, a way to leave stress behind and let go of any problems of the time. But when you have a baby, you begin to realize how overwhelming something like the beach can be.

    Between packing the car, figuring out time frames, parking, getting through the crowds and finding your “perfect spot” it can be a lot. Let alone keeping track of the people and kids with you plus having refreshments for everyone. But with a little one, say a 4-and-a-half-month-old, that tends to add more to list. Make sure to have bottles, and formula, swimmers, diapers, plenty of wipes, and enough sunblock to coat the neighborhood. Don’t get me wrong, it’s all worth it, but it can tend to be a lot that someone may or may not be ready to handle all at once.

    Recently I went to the beach with my daughter and my parents. We thought we had everything packed, everyone ready on time and at a decent hour, and had prepared ourselves for the crowds. We were partially right. Everything had been packed, but a regular stroller is not the best to take on to the beach so we ended up having to haul a lot more than what we thought we would have to, by hand. We did have everyone ready at a decent time of day, but the heat didn’t care what time was, it was hot no matter what time you tried to leave. And the crowds? Though under control, it’s still a lot of people crammed into one place, even though we chose a more secluded area. My daughter didn’t care about any of that though. She cooed and chortled at the people around her, giggled at the waves crashing in the distance, and squirmed this way and that in my arms trying to watch the birds flying around everywhere.

    She didn’t necessarily like the bathing suit we had on her, or the amount of sunscreen I put on her arms and legs, but having a baby protected from as much sun as I could was well worth the mild struggle with flailing baby limbs. Once she was ready to go, and we found our spot to sit for a while, I was ready to venture with the baby down to the water’s edge. This was her first time in anything aside from her bath, so I wanted to make sure I took things a bit slow. She loved her bath time and has started to enjoy splishing and splashing, but I didn’t want her to get taken out by a wave. In the end I didn’t have much that I had to worry about, once we got the water and I had my ankles in, I waited for the next wave to wash across and lowered my daughter’s chubby little feet down.

    As soon as her toes felt the cold water, her little legs shot up against her body like a frog preparing to jump. I thought she was going to stay that way at first, but she tentatively lowered her feet back once she realized I wasn’t moving away from the water. I guess mom standing in the cold made it less scary. The little waves ebbed and flowed and once she lowered her feet back in the water, she let out a little giggle and wiggled her toes in the sand. Slowly but surely, she dug her feet in up to her ankles and baby talked to the water as it splashed across her legs. She looked this way and that, reaching arms down to try and grab at the sea foam or kick her leg occasionally to splash it back down. Thankfully she was having fun, my back supporting her weight while she did it, not so much. The pain was worth it though, as long as she was having a good time.

    Everything was going great, but in the end, we had to cut our trip short, my dad’s back was starting to bother him from the uneven sand surface, and we still had a long drive home ahead of us, so we started to pack up and get ready to head out. My daughter though, didn’t want to have it, she wanted to stay in the water. As soon as I picked her back up from the waves, she pushed out her little boohoo lip and started crying. Crying made her hot, which made her crankier, and then she was reminded that she was hungry. One walk to the car with beach gear and a very cranky baby, I had her changed into something lighter, loaded into the truck, and feverishly sucking on her bottle. She managed to eat about half of it before she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Which was a benefit for her since the ride home ended up being close to two hours due to traffic.

    When I was younger, I never noticed the amount of effort and time that my parents put into beach days, no matter how long or short they were. But now that I am mom, I understand. It may have its labors but to watch your kids enjoy themselves to the point that they don’t want to leave, is all that is needed to feel like you won the day. Not to mention it is adorable to watch them nap immediately after from having so much fun. Next time there will definitely be a few things that I want to change, a different carrier for the baby and our beach supplies, a different bathing suit for my daughter so she doesn’t get to overheated to quickly, and hopefully finding a parking spot that is a bit closer to the beach entrance. The last one is only if we are lucky though, so I won’t always count on it. But I honestly can’t wait for our next beach day trip, The amount of giggles my daughter had from playing in the water made me an extremely happy mama. And I wouldn’t want to trade those moments for anything.

  • Growing Pains

    Time is such an odd concept. When I was younger I wanted to grow up as soon as possible so I could do the cool things adults got to do. Get to go out and drive when ever they want, spend money on what you want, when you want to. There can be some days I feel like I did when I was a teenager, lost and wondering how I would handle it all. Other days I wake up remembering I am a 33-year-old woman with bills, a 4-month-old daughter, and bad knees. Life is funny like that, though I had to at least do something right to make it this far.

    Not that it has been easy, looking back it hasn’t been easy in the least. Memories of great times alongside the lowest of lows all colliding together to stitch the story that is my life up to this point. There were things I wish that I had the chance to say, ones that I wish I hadn’t said at all, and actions that may have turned out better if I had at least tried. Do I regret it? Some of the times yes, but I wouldn’t change a single one if it meant that it would lead to what I have in my life right now. It may not be much but my daughters bright smile is worth every low point I ever had. I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

    Watching her grow is a blessing, but in and of itself is odd. She is growing so quickly it feels like if I blink I might miss something. I look at her and see my little baby girl, and I know I will always see her that way, but in the same token it’s funny how growth changes. As I said, I look at her, and she seems so small, but when family and friends visit they always say “Look how big she is getting”, and I have to do a double take. She is growing, but to me, she is still tiny. Then I go out shopping for clothes or formula and see other mamas and their babies that are 10+ months and realize my daughter is the size of them if not bigger. Not to mention she is in 3-6 month size clothing even some solely 6 month size, and 6-9 month size shoes. At 4 months old. She really is a big baby, not in a bad way, she is healthy and growing. To be fair she was a little over 8lbs when she was born. Also helps that I am a little above average height for a woman, and her dad is 6ft tall. All in all it’s not surprising that she would be on the bigger side.

    But it still is so odd of a concept to me. In most cases she seems small, and then I see other babies her age and I realize, nope, my daughter dwarfs them. She is already trying to push herself up on to her knees while she is on tummy time (her least favorite parts of the day) and is trying to figure out rolling. It’s so exciting to experience, and it makes me so happy at the amount of effort that she puts in. I can’t wait for her to start moving, I know once she starts she will be a roaming menace that I will have to keep chasing after, but I feel like most parents deal with that back and forth. We want what is best for our kids and to watch them hit milestones, but once they hit that marker we get sad because that milestone is done, and we can’t get that time back.

    As a kid I wanted time to speed up to do all these events and tasks, and now that I’m older I want time to slow. I wish I could press a pause button and keep my daughter at 4 months for as long as possible and savor every second while she is small. She is growing at such a rapid rate that I blink, and a week has flashed by like nothing. We spend most of our lives trying to rush through life, and now I just want it to stop. I want to enjoy everything I can, but there doesn’t seem to be enough time in a day to enjoy as much as I would like to, to have my daughter experience as much as possible before she outgrows it. The real tight rope of time and how we want to spend it.

  • One Step Forward

    There are many things in life that seem to want to drag me down and keep me there. Tossing my mind and body back and forth, so I don’t know what is up or down at times. But a constant in my life right now, is my daughters smiling face. Every day I wake up to her little coos, look down and see her smile staring back at me. This is usually followed by a little giggle when she realizes I am awake, and what I call her “scheming hands”. She holds and rubs her hands back and forth while hiding her face behind them. It’s mischievous and oh so adorable. Watching and hearing this little routine every morning, gives me the motivation I need to get up and put my feet on the ground. Even on the gray days that make me want to curl up in a ball and go back to sleep.

    Whenever life gets low my friend tells me that all I need to do is be 1% better than I was yesterday, to take a step at a time and keep pushing forward. She tends to be right, but when it feels like your world is falling apart and the walls are closing in, you don’t always want to listen. When the world seems bleak and the sun doesn’t even want to shine, advice can seem like everything else. Heavy. Hanging over your head as if trying to mock you. But my constant? The natural sunshine that seems to flow from my daughter. No matter how sad I feel, or how lost, seeing her face is enough to brighten my day. Even when she is yelling at me in her own way during tummy time, or when she is wailing because I took one minute to long to make her bottle, she still makes me smile. Talking with her and holding her is like an instant boost of serotonin.

    Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to make it seem like she is my only source of happiness, because she isn’t. I have my friends and family, pets and rekindled hobbies that spark joy. But my daughter brings a happiness that isn’t forced or worked at, it comes naturally without any effort. A sense of comfort and pride that comes with being a mother and knowing that I brought her into this world, but she is the thing that makes life worth living. I love watching her learn and discover. The faces she makes when she realizes that her hands are attached to her and that she can control them. Grabbing onto her blankets, toys and my hair, tending to give a good tug and laugh to the latter. The coos and chortles that she makes to her toys as if talking to them. The oohs and ahhs that she gives as she looks at the plants and trees outside. The strength she shows off as she learns to hold the weight of her own head. Moving it all around as she tries to look at the people around her. It all enthralls me and makes life feel a little bit lighter.

    Spending time with her makes the weight of reality melt away, and the heaviness of the world a distant memory. She makes me want to be 1% better each day, because that 1% is enough to make her happy, and to get me through to tomorrow. Taking a step at a time can seem slow and monotonous when all you want to do is sprint, but slow and steady can help you really understand what is happening around you. To soak in the effort that you put out, not rush through it. Some days may seem heavier than others, and some days I may not want to move from the bed. But hearing her wake up in the morning brings a smile to my face. Because seeing those scheming hands, and her face light up when she realizes I am awake, makes everything worth it. If you try to sprint you may miss what goes on around you, and I don’t want to miss a single moment of watching my daughter grow. I will keep taking my small steps one at a time, and keep pushing for that 1%. Because my friend is right, 1% is better than nothing. And one step forward is better than not moving at all.

  • Mother’s Day

    When I was a kid and well into my teenage years, Mother’s Day was always a labor of love. Emphasis on the labor part, though that wasn’t a bad thing. Every year we would wake up at dawn, get ourselves dressed and ready to go and then make our way down into the city. With a quick stop at a convenience store for a small breakfast thrown in. We’d find parking amongst the large crowds, gather our water bottles and whatever else we would need, and make our way to check in. The only thing my mom wanted to do every year was the Breast Cancer Walk. It was her way of spending time with us, getting out for fresh air and exercise, and giving back to the community.

    Every year we did this, like clock work, for nearly 13 years. It wasn’t about the merch you could get, or the free Wawa tent you could get snacks from after the walk was over, it was about enjoying the time we had with our mom. By the end of the long trek, our belly’s full and legs like jelly, we’d head back to the house and all take a well deserved nap. My dad would wake us up well before my mom would have her alarm set for, and we’d pile in the car to go to her favorite gardening stop and pick her out some flowers. Then we’d stop at the grocery store and get ingredients for whatever we were making her that night. It tended to be something that my dad would hear her say “You know what we haven’t had in a while?” over the course of the month. We’d get back in time to get the groceries away, and place the plants in an obvious spot as mom’s alarm was waking her up. She’d come out smiling, and we would present our gifts, then all make dinner as a family and settle down for the day. Our fun yearly routine.

    Over the years, though we still saw it as fun, it became harder to manage. My older brother would be unable to get out of work, I would have to barter with my college professors to be able to skip the day with minimal repercussion, and over time, my mom’s knees began to not be able to make the full trek. We had to retire the tradition fully when I moved to the next state over, and work made it impossible to get off. Didn’t help that my older brother moved across country and my younger sibling didn’t like taking the long walk at all. We all made it up to mom in our own ways. Surprise visits on days off, or making a point to send her some of her favorite plants, even going as far as sending a special order of her favorite chocolate covered strawberries. We all managed in our own ways, and mom always appreciated it.

    As I got older, I always made a point to call my mom on Mother’s Day, and my mom would always wish me one back. I was a “Fur Mom” as she put it, because my dog was more like my and my partners’ child than a family pet. That’s the way it went for a handful of years, until 2 and a half years ago when I got pregnant. I was excited to be a mom, my partner equally excited to be a father. But due to unfortunate circumstance, it wasn’t meant to be. When I lost our first daughter, I was devastated, and there is a part of me that will carry that loss with me for the rest of my life. I know it, and don’t regret it. I’d rather hold onto that small piece of heartache then lose the memory of her existence. The first Mother’s Day after the loss, I was given off from work, my boss saying that she didn’t want me too overwhelmed since our tragedy a few months prior. I had greatly appreciated the sentiment. The second year I thought I would be better, I had planned to work. Prepared myself mentally the whole week beforehand, but when I woke up that morning and my mother-in-law called to wish me a happy Mother’s Day, I physically got ill. My body and brain had betrayed me, and I was told to stay home. Thankfully my coworkers were understanding and didn’t mind covering the shift.

    That day I still called my mom like I did every year, talked to her for a good two hours, but by the end of the conversation I was still in tears. My best friend came over after she was finished her shift, made sure I could hold down food and water, got me outside for a while for some fresh air, and did whatever she could to get my mind into a better place. I appreciate her hard work and effort, and to this day love her so much for what she has done for me. This year brought much brighter prospects and a much more stable frame of mind. There have still been many things going on, chaos of a baby and work schedules, trying to balance life amongst it all. But this year I was able to get a taste of why my mom had smiled every Mother’s Day for so long.

    I had been able to visit my parents around Mother’s Day, so we made the best of what we had. Upon waking to my daughters happy Coo’s and gentle smiles I already felt like I had won the day, achieved all that I could have wanted. Seeing her laying in her little bed, my heart had felt full. Once the rest of the house was awake it got even better. I got sweet baby cuddles and a small nap time with her resting on my chest. My mom got play time with her granddaughter, and then we all headed outside for some air. My dad watched the baby for a while so my mom and I could do some planting in the garden. We enjoyed getting our hands dirty as we talked and planted, time seemed like it stood still for us to enjoy what we could. After our time playing in the dirt, we all enjoyed playing with the baby in the shade of the backyard, taking turns showing her the trees and flowers. Falling in love with the sounds she made to the birds, and her feisty little arm swings at the petals floating on the breeze. Dinner was a family favorite of mixed seafood and roasted corn, no phones allowed. Just good conversation, good food, and a bottle of formula for the baby.

    The day as a whole was simple and sweet. Not something overly complex or planned out to specific time frames, events happened as they happened. Over all, it was comforting, joyous, and plain fun. When I was young, Mother’s Day meant I was going to be tired, but my mom would be happy. As I got older it seemed another day that I had to work during, then for a while it became a day of pain. Now, looking at my mom and my daughter’s smiling faces, it feels warm. In the future, I may not always get to enjoy it to the fullest, and I know it won’t always be perfect, and some years it may just be chaos. But now I know why my mom always did what she did. It was never about the event or how much money was used, it was about the time spent together and thought that went into what we did. Most moms get flowers on Mother’s Day, but she would get her favorites, in ways that she could add them to her garden to look at them every year they bloomed.

    Now I can experience that too, because every year I visit the house, I can see the plants she and I planted together this year and look back fondly on the memories we shared. My daughter may not remember the day given her age, but she will remember her love of nature and through our stories understand how it all started. Given my own journey, I know that my daughter may not always be a ray of sunshine, and will have highs and lows depending on what happens as she grows. If I could wish one thing for her though, it would be that she gets to enjoy her time with her grandmothers, her mom and one day be able to look down at her own children with the same amount of joy that I have when I look down at her.

  • Alone Time

    Navigating through motherhood is a major learning experience, one that has constant ups and downs. One of the hardest is understanding alone time. My daughter is 2 months old. Still very much a baby, so of course I want to hold, cuddle, and love her constantly. Unfortunately I know that I can’t do that as much as I want to. We don’t want to make her dependent on us, and not be able to be placed down. Finding the balance though, is one of the most difficult tasks I have tried to figure out.

    When my daughter cries, she cries hard. Heart-wrenching wails that can be heard from one side of the house all the way to the other. There’s never a doubt that her little lungs aren’t strong. That being said, whenever she cries like that, I instantly want to scoop her up in my arms and comfort her. Cuddle her little face and body until the crying stops. Sometimes she cries because she is hungry or needs a diaper change like any other child. Sometimes she does it because she specifically WANTS to be held, which I don’t want to deny her either. At the same time, I also know that she needs to learn how to self soothe. To have the alone time to calm herself down, because that is also something that babies need to learn.

    Finding that balance of it all, has to be one of the hardest things I have ever had to deal with. How are you supposed to know when it is or isn’t okay to scoop them up? How am I supposed to just stand there doing minor housework while my child is screaming her head off? I check her diaper often and make sure she is eating when she is hungry, but what about the times that she is crying when none of that is the issue? People tell me “You have to let her cry, she’ll cry herself to sleep,” but what about the times that she doesn’t? What am I supposed to do then?

    My partner and I have different approaches to the situations, but sometimes it seems like they are clashing. He goes the route of letting her cry it out, and can follow through with that fully. Be able to put her down in her chair and talk with her but also refrain from doting on her every whim. Check the necessities, but still maintain a sense of alone time and distance. Whereas I struggle with that. I let her have alone time in her chair but still find myself interacting with her, talking with her, playing with her little hands and feet. It keeps her happy and smiling, she doesn’t overly fuss and will still hang out in her chair long enough for me to be able to get small tasks done. But it feels like that those little interactions make it so it’s difficult for my partner to put her down fully. She instantly cries and wants to be picked back up, or to be interacted with. Am I the problem? It genuinely feels like I am at times.

    At the same time, if I put her down and she wails while I am doing a task, people have told me that I am being negligent or ignoring her. Which I don’t want that to be the case either. I love my daughter and don’t want her to feel like she is being ignored. Nor do I want other people to think I am being a bad mother, but I also don’t know the way to balance what I have to do with what I want to do, or what people tell me to do. It’s all so overwhelming and no matter what I do I feel like I’m falling short. I do think to myself about what that one mom told me “mind your own motherhood” and I try to let that apply when I am interacting with other mothers and taking advice with a grain of salt. But as time went on it became difficult to not let it feel like it all stacked up against me.

    I’ve recently been able to get some alone time in for myself. But even then I feel like I’m not letting myself enjoy or fully use it. My partner is taking care of her on his days off from work, so I can get some tasks done, but it seems she won’t settle for him or sleep well. She won’t let him put her down even for a second, and it feels like that is a reflection on me and how I have been taking care of her while he is working. I find myself checking in constantly when I’m supposed to be working on things or taking time to breathe. That in itself probably isn’t the best, seeing as I’m not even giving myself the alone time that is needed. That being said, I know I need to do better. I need to do better for myself, so I can do better by our daughter. I have to learn to not give in to every little cry, that yes she is a baby and needs attention and social interaction, but that she also needs to be able to play and coo on her own at times to.

    Its hard, almost feels impossible at times, but for the betterment of the both of us, I know I have to try harder. Do better to find the balance of togetherness and alone time. Be able to let her cry and self soothe, while still letting her know that we are here. Interacting and cuddling with her, but also make it so she can be set down for a time and not immediately freak out. Will finding that balance be an easy task? From what I have experienced so far, no it will not. But I know for our shared wellbeing, it will be worth it.

  • The Hardest Part Is Goodbye

    In life, many things are gone as time moves forward. Memories are replaced with new ones, leaving old to be lost in the fog. Friends come and go, drifting in and out of our lives like the seasons. It’s true some stick around but not everyone we encounter stays for long. Loved ones are taken with age, no one can live forever. It always hurts to say goodbye no matter the situation.

    I have experienced these losses, watched as bonds I thought to be endlessly strong, broke one by one. Some went easily, a quick snap like a broken string and the person disappeared. Others were like a fraying rope, slow and painful. With each unfurling string, growing a little bit weaker until there was nothing to hold. Distant memories drifting out of focus. No matter how it happened, each loss still leaving a mark that would fade in time, but never truly heal.

    Deaths were always the hardest for me. One moment someone is there, and then they aren’t. You go to pick up a phone or send a message and realize there isn’t a point, you wouldn’t get an answer. Then there are the ones that it seems you can’t talk about. The deaths that fall under taboos. Cancer, mental illness, miscarriage. The deaths that no one is willing to truly talk about. I have had to deal with plenty of these. From family members that have fought the long fight to cancer, to 2 years ago dealing with having a miscarriage. I was 5 months along and due to what was found to be a weak cervix, I lost my first little girl. We had just picked out a name, and I was so excited, but it wasn’t meant to be. I got rocked, hard. The loss weighing so heavy on my mind and body. The pain of having to let go of a life that hadn’t gotten the full chance to start. I mourned what was, and what could have been. As did my partner.

    As time went on, it got easier for him. He was able to step above the pain and try to find himself a new, but for a long time I was not. I let myself wallow, to mourn so deeply that I never thought I could feel true happiness again. I pushed people away, severed more bonds on my end, so I didn’t have to be reminded of having to say goodbye so soon. Let myself miss out on opportunities to grow or give myself the chance to smile again. I created strain and sadness, far more than I even imagined, focusing on my own pain. I hurt those around me because I was hurting, and it’s something I will never fully forgive myself for.

    It wasn’t until a year and a half later when I found out that I was pregnant again, that I actually let myself smile for the first time and fully meant it. I still mourned for my first and dreaded the idea of losing my second, becoming overly afraid of the “What If’s”. But I still had hope for a new life, a new beginning, and new chance to love and grow. Now that my daughter is 2 months old, and her little chubby cheeks smile at me, I still find myself thinking of my previous lose. What would it have been like if my daughter had her sister? How would they have been together? When you lose like that, it never truly leaves you. You have to learn to live with it, walk with it, and grow from it. To be better in some way from the loss. It will still hurt, with time it may become so small that you barely even notice it. But for me, it will still be there.

    Now that I look back, my first isn’t the only one I mourned for. I mourn for the relationships I lost along the way of my pain. The friendships that should have had so much more time left to them. The bonds that frayed so havocally that they can’t be mended, no matter how you try, you can’t get them back. But even though it all hurts, that in itself is a learning experience. And understanding that pain and loss shouldn’t hang over your head. You shouldn’t let it define you, because in the long run it will ruin you. You have to grow from it, strive to move beyond it, and there you will find happiness again. It takes time, and so much effort that sometimes you want to give up. But you can’t. You shouldn’t give in, because you won’t be the only one to suffer.

    When I look down at my daughter I do think about what could have been, but I also think about who she could be. About her future and her growth. The journey that she will have to go through, the losses that she will have to withstand. I know she will feel pain, but she will also feel love, happiness and understanding. And I have come to understand that I won’t see any of that unless I am able to stand above my losses and push forward. To stop holding on to something that I had no real control over at the time, and take the initiative to grasp what I do have and keep moving. Sometimes you have to deal with the hardest part, and actually say goodbye.

  • Talking with the Wall

    Growing up and looking at all the surrounding adults, I thought they had it all together. That they had everything figured out and had all the answers. The older I got, the more I realized how wrong I was. It was a farce. No one has all the answers and no one actually knows what they are doing. Every single person is either fighting or coasting through life to the best of their ability. But the one thing that I was told my whole life by these adults, was to communicate. Whether it be in relationships, in work, or in general, communication is key. I did my best trying to do that whenever I could, to communicate intent and emotion. But there was one thing that no one explained, maybe they didn’t know anything about it either. It wasn’t until my 30s had I even started to understand, communication is key, but without comprehension it means nothing.

    You can communicate all you want, express all you want, but if the other person is talking and not actually comprehending or listening to what is being said, it’s futile. It’s like talking to a wall, you aren’t going to get anything back. The reality was that I was the person that wasn’t comprehending. Topics would be said to me, emotions would be expressed, but that was where it ended. I thought I was listening and trying to be better, to act on what was being said, but sadly I was mistaken. All the moments talked about would go in one ear and out the other, leaving little to actually take root in my brain. And when someone is actually trying to have a heart-to-heart, that is not a way that you should treat the situation. It doesn’t matter if the words made sense to you with the way they were spoken, what matters is the intent behind them and how it should affect you.

    In a nutshell, you shouldn’t let peoples words just roll off you. If they are being rude or mean, there is usually reasoning behind it. Just like words of love have meaning and intent behind them. Obviously you shouldn’t take everything to heart, but you still need to be able to fully understand why things are being said the way they are. If you don’t, you will get left behind, because everyone else will be growing around you, while you are left figuring out how they are growing in the first place. If I had sat and actually tried to truly listen and understand what certain people were trying to tell me, if I had actually comprehended their feelings and intents, then I wouldn’t have lost the friendships that I had cherished so deeply. I wouldn’t have gotten left in the dust of them moving on. I would have been able to grow with them, but because of my lack of comprehension, I stunted my own growth and ended up getting stuck back at the starting line.

    It’s a terrible feeling, finding out that you were the wall that people felt like they were talking to. To know that you were the one that wasn’t giving them anything back, especially when you thought you were trying. But when multiple people say the same thing, they all can’t be wrong. What do you do? Do you give up and hang your head? Or do you try and take that step up and actually start the race? For me, I don’t want to be left behind, I don’t want to be the wall that offers nothing. I want to be able to grow, to listen and to learn. To be able to offer comprehension and act on it. Is it going to be easy? Absolutely not. Especially when you’ve been a wall for so long, It’s hard to know if you are actually doing anything right. But that isn’t the point.

    The point is doing what you can to communicate, comprehend and grow. To be able to have a conversation without completely falling apart, or falling short. To be able to reciprocate in discussions and have the other person walking away feeling satisfied as well, not just thinking I accomplished something. Doing so will allow both parties to have true understanding and be able to solve whatever problem has been presented and get through it. To grow together and keep pushing forward. Because that is what makes things easier, that’s what truly gives the air of having things figured out. If I had learned all this sooner, maybe I would have been able to save some of the bonds that I have lost. I honestly don’t have the answers to that. But one thing I do know, is that I am not going to let myself be the wall anymore. The wall benefits no one, and it’s about time to grow.

  • A Walk Through the Past

    I have found times in life when you have to start walking through the past to be able to better your future. Whether it be trauma, Life events, or even after a rough day, reflection can sometimes help with growth and realization. I myself have had to do it a few times over the past few years, because I believe the past can teach us moments so we can grow to be better people. I wish on some of those walks I had paid more attention, I feel like I would have learned to be better long before those moments came back to bite me.

    Typically, am a person that tends to be called “Too Much”. Feeling too much and to deeply, can be observed as being overly sensitive or fragile. Overreacting can be perceived as argumentative. Seeming to talk too much because I feel like I have to over explain myself to make sure that I’m not misunderstood. Though these “Too Much” topics tend to come from trauma, I also never understood why they were perceived as being a bad thing. Sure I talk a lot, but at least anyone can understand what I am saying and fully where I am coming from. I wear my heart on my sleeve and am not afraid to show that I feel emotions more thoroughly then others, but at least people know that I am feeling anything at all. I may be reactive and tend to come across as argumentative, but at least I am asking questions or expressing different opinions instead of going with the crowd and agreeing for the sake of doing so.

    Not everyone sees aspects from that point of view and I can respect that. But all together those feelings can tend to become a problem if they aren’t kept in check. Especially if you are constantly doing them to the same people over and over again. It can become suffocating and almost intolerable. I wanted to know why I was like that. Why I felt those feelings, reacted in those ways, and the best way that I could do that, was taking a trip through the past. Taking some self reflection. And needless to say, there were ways I could have learned if I had paid attention more on my last few walks. I’m not saying that I haven’t learned from those walks before, because I have. But I was typically seemed to pay attention to what I wanted to learn, not what I needed to learn.

    One of the moments that had popped up in more recent times, was how I could be overly doting and would coddle. Toward my child is one thing, she’s a baby and there is nothing wrong with being overly loving and motherly, given how young she is it makes sense. But it can be a problem when I am doing it to full-grown adults. They don’t need to be mothered like that, they had that growing up and don’t need it into adulthood. It wasn’t all the time either, specifically when certain conversations or topics applied. Tough conversations that most people find uncomfortable and tend to need to go through to grow. But instead of sitting and having a tough conversation, I would get overly upset and turn to extreme care. Practically to the point of suffocating because of being the easier way out, plus, that was what my brain told me to do. But why?

    I decided to take one of those walks down memory lane, to go back to my childhood. There I found memories that were normal, happy, and good. I found care and support. Until I got to my teenage years. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were great parents. They still are, and are even better grandparents. But I discovered something hidden in the past that I never fully focused on before. I was what would be called a “Good Kid”. The statement was expressed often by my parents and by other adults. I did my school work, helped when asked and more often then not even when I wasn’t. Likewise, I did the tasks that normal teenagers did as well, but with an older brother that loved to test boundaries and lash out, and an infant younger brother, my parents constantly had their hands full. I kept my head down, did what I was instructed or what I thought was needed of me, and skated through the years. But that led to my own downfall for a while.

    Because I was so good, and considered “The One that didn’t have to be worried about”, I felt like it would be harder to speak up when I did have a problem. When I was hurting and needed to be worried about. I didn’t want to break my parents’ perception of me, because in my head it would mean that I was becoming a burden. I didn’t want to be one more thing that they had to worry about when they already had so much on their plates. I realize now, that way of thinking isn’t good for anyone. It denied me help that I needed, and denied my parents from knowing what was actually going through their daughters head. I had ups and downs in high school, heart break, ending friendships, feeling like I wasn’t good enough, while also feeling jealous because of the new baby. My parents did give each one of us their attention, but I felt like I had gotten lost in the crowd. Over time of dealing with those thoughts and other typical teenager aspects, I ended up getting depressed, but didn’t want to talk about it at risk of being another thing that my parents had to worry about. In turn, I resorted to the worst possible thing. Self harm, and even worse, hiding it.

    I got good at the hiding it part. I was an active teen that loved to be out in nature. Constantly took walks in the woods by my house, helped in our expansive garden, ran around and rough housed with friends. On top of that I was also a natural klutz. Always had bruises from walking into corners, smacking or scraping limbs on furniture or slipping while trying to trim plants. When I would self harm, I would do it while out of the house, that way when I got back home, it became easier to lie about how it had happened. No witnesses so who was to say I was lying. Plus I would do it in ways that resembled wounds from being a klutz. “I slipped off the dirt path and fell in brambles”, “I was trimming the rose bushes and some thorns must have caught me”. Being “the good kid that didn’t have to be worried about” my parents never questioned me. Never thought that I would lie right to their faces. Because of that, they didn’t look past the surface. I don’t blame them, never have. I was the one that didn’t want to hurt them or add on to their worries. But in doing so, I also didn’t get the attention and care that I needed.

    Walking through those memories, I realized something. By lying and hiding, I denied myself what I needed most in those times. Love and understanding. Fast-forward to being an adult, it clicked, why when people would talk about being low or not in the right headspace, I would coddle them or smother them with affection. I was giving them what I had wanted back then, because I felt like that’s also what they wanted, not paying attention to what each individual person actually needed. Not everyone needs extreme affection when they talk about their low times. Sometimes people need someone to sit with them in the dark and talk with them. Let them get thoughts off their chest instead of being instantly smothered without being able to express anything. And I had overlooked it. Despite what happened to me when I was younger, I went to the opposite extreme and still ended up doing the same thing, ignoring others needs. People stopped talking to me about those topics, and in turn ended up hurting themselves because they didn’t want to hurt me. Which wasn’t fair to them at all. By over reacting, by over feeling, by being “Too Much”, I ended up making those people feel like they were a burden and made them feel like they couldn’t express themselves. Different start to what I went through, but still had the same result.

    If I had paid attention on my past walks down memory lane, I might have realized this sooner. It took someone close telling me that they couldn’t talk to me anymore about sensitive or emotional topics, because of the “Too Much” aspect, to realize what I had missed. I had been hurting them for a long time by overlooking what they needed and forcing on them what I thought they wanted, in turn becoming the burden I never wanted to be. This made situations unfair for both sides, which was never my intention. I want to be better, to help my loved ones, so I can actually have the hard discussions. To be someone that people can come to with their problems and know that they are being listened to. That being stated, I will keep having these walks through the past. To understand myself better, to be a better listener, and in turn to be a better person as a whole.