This sounds a little dramatic, doesn't it? Let me just say, life is pretty darn good for me. Not perfect, but there are certainly MANY reasons it is worth living. : )
That said..............................predictably...........Monkey is an excellent reason to live. But there are many reasons.
He makes me laugh.
He can make me crazy.
He can even make me cry (for good and bad reasons-- like by being breathtakingly adorable!).
There's something about being a mom that really gave me purpose. Before Monkey, I kind of just floated around, with no direction, and no real reason- at least I felt that way. When he was born, I felt fulfilled, I felt needed, I felt important. He gave me a sense of success- I had a baby. I made him. I cooked him in my tummy and he came out pretty cute. Lookie!
Okay, I had a little help from Hubs. Still. : ) By having Monkey, I felt meaningful. And for that alone, I am grateful.
Is it a bad sign that I can only think of incredibly awful things to write about for this topic? Nothing like, I hope I never have to eat bugs for a million dollars, or I hope I never have to be embarrassed in front of a crowd of people. Although, now that I think of it, I hope I never have to do either of those things, either. But no- my first thought was, I hope I never have to go through losing my baby. As in, I hope he doesn't die before me.
Whoa. I just went there.
It's a terrifying thought though. And definitely something I hope I never have to go through. I'm not even entirely sure I would be able to get through that. I think it would be something that would drive me over the edge of reason.
Once, when I was working at Disney World, and little boy came up to me with his mother. They were renting a stroller for the day- which happened to be Fat Tuesday. As I rolled one to the mother, she said to her little boy, "Give her one of your necklaces" and the little boy took a set of Mardi Gras beads from around his neck and handed it to me. It was then I noticed he wore a purple tee shirt that read, "Make a Wish", and a baseball cap that covered his bald head.
My heart will never forget that moment, or that little boy and his mother. That was quite a few years ago-- I don't know where either of them could be now. I only hope that they had the best of days at Disney World. And I hope they help me remember to cherish every single moment I have with my little Monkey Man.
This may be the broadest question ever. I mean...really? I could go on and on and on...But I don't think that is the objective of this writing task, to read on while I chatter like a crazy monkey (although...maybe...). : ) I would say, aside from all the usual things that I've actually done-- get married, have a baby, etc-- my other big dream is to travel. Everywhere. Anywhere. Well, anywhere interesting. When I was younger I dreamed of having a passport and filling it up with all the fabulously exotic places I would go. The sad thing is, I don't even have a passport now. So I suppose this is something that I better get crackin' on, huh? : )
We were never officially a couple, but in my mind he was always mine. We'd met the first time I was here in Florida, and while he lived in Jersey, and I lived in Montana, we managed to keep in contact for over two years. We'd send each other postcards and cards; we talked on the phone at least once a week (for over two hours at a time); we'd visited one another; we'd met each other's parents. When I decided to move to Florida, he already had. It seemed as though it was all going to work so smoothly. And then...it didn't. Then he started dating another girl. At first I was certain that he just needed to get this out of his system, that once I moved there he'd drop her and come back to me. But it wasn't the case. Then things got messy. Me, in my crazy love sick cloud, wrote him a letter, professing my love--- yes, I realize the lameness. But I did it, and I sent it, and then I immediately texted him and said, "don't read that letter I just mailed you". He said he wouldn't. Well. Not only did he read it, he kept it. In his freakin' underwear drawer. Where his girlfriend found it. *Insert innocent face here* Well, she freaked. I blamed her at the time, but now I know I would have freaked too. I mean...can you imagine? Finding a love letter from another woman in your man's undies? Lord. She demanded that he cut off ALL communication with me. After he'd insisted that she and I would be the best of friends. Ha. Men are so dumb. Of course, I was livid. Again, in the moment, I only felt my side of things. But I would have done the same as she. I would have wanted to kill me, honestly. And what was he to do? He was stuck in the middle--although, he said he was going to throw that letter away without even reading it. What was he doing stashing it? Fool.I've gone through every emotion-- anger, betrayal, broken heartedness, back to anger, jealousy. All of it was toxic to my system. After I met Hubby, I realized that I needed to forgive them- both. I still haven't, but I'm working on it. She took something from me- even though I am where I need to be now, she still took something that I will always wonder about. Where would I be now had that path been open? Maybe unhappy, maybe alone, maybe married to someone else...it is strange to think about. But I wouldn't have THIS Hubby, and I wouldn't have Monkey. So. Forgiveness is needed. Thank you for screwing up, so I could have what I have now. : )
Boy, this is a doozy of a topic. I've got quite a few little- and not so little- things I need to just let go of, and let myself off the hook for. But it isn't as simple as that, is it?
I had a friend that I had known since kindergarten. Skiler. She was bright and funny and had a big laugh that was incredibly contagious. She had pale skin with freckles and really pretty pale green eyes. We had gone all through school together, and even after school, while we grew a part a bit, we still saw each other occasionally. We didn't stop being friends...but sometimes, when you grow up, you move on from people without even realizing it.
Well. Then I moved to Florida, had Monkey, and got married. Our wedding was in my hometown, at my parents house. Because it was at my parents house, it wasn't huge. 40 or 50 people. Unfortunately, that meant not everyone I knew was invited.
Including Skiler.
I knew that it had upset her. Honestly, I didn't even think to realize how upset she would be. I know that sounds entirely ignorant now-- even typing it, I want to kick myself. I tell myself that if SHE had gotten married and not invited ME, I would understand.
Sure.
So. The wedding was in July. November 19th, Skiler passed away.
The story was, Skiler had been in a car wreck, months before. After surviving that, months later, she had a blood clot, or something ridiculously random that stemmed back to the wreck. And she passed away. She was gone. I still think about it often; how I'd made her feel left out, uninvited. She could have been there. She SHOULD have been there. Regardless of how we'd grown apart, for the first half of my life she was there, and nothing changed that.
So, while I probably should forgive myself for leaving my relationship with her like that, I'm not sure I ever will. I have a feeling that if she could, she'd probably laugh at me and say, "Oh, you dumbass" and we'd be done with it.
But instead I'm left with sadness and guilt. And the reminder to never leave things undone with people. Just in case.
As opposed to yesterday, I'm writing about what I LOVE about myself. We, as a society, seem to avoid loving our selves. As if saying, "I'm good at this" or "I can do that" it insinuates that we're overly confident, cocky, self absorbed. But then, as I watch Nick Jr. w/ Monkey, they are constantly teaching confidence, individuality, etc. So if we're taught that from birth...where does it go? Because even just me writing this post, I'm hoping no one thinks I'm tooting my own horn too much.
ME: I love my sense of humor. I think it sometimes weirds people out, because I'm very Chandler Bing with it; if I'm uncomfortable, nervous, or the like, I make a joke. It isn't that I cannot take anything seriously. But its something comfortable with; and when I make someone laugh, there's a bit of me that calms down, and thinks, "Okay, I can handle this situation". On the flip side, I love to laugh. If someone can make me laugh, I'm instantly attracted to them. Not in a romantic way-- just in general. I want to be around people that can make me laugh, and people who laugh at me just as much. ; )
Laughter IS the best medicine, you know!
It's probably pretty easy to think of things we do not like about ourselves. Our figures, our smiles, our hair, face, feet, legs...
We usually are quick to pick ourselves apart. It's easy- it's a defense mechanism. If we tear ourselves down first, no one else can. If we recognize any shortcomings early on, we feel as if it frees us. When, in reality, it chains us. It ties us down to what we think we are limited to. I can't be pretty because I'm fat. I can't be smart because I'm dyslexic. I'm too old for this, I'm too young for that. They all just sound like excuses, right?
However. I'm not supposed to be talking about that. I'm supposed to be talking about me.
The one thing I do not like about myself is my incessant need to avoid confrontation. Any sort. I cannot speak my mind much of the time for fear of upsetting anyone; I cannot disagree because I don't want someone to think I'm mean, or dumb, or awful. It's funny, right? I am constantly worried about what people think, it what it boils down to. Ridiculous. And the thing is? I'm actually pretty darn opinionated. I doubt people who know me- even pretty well- officially know that. Because I hide it. Because I don't want people to think, "wow, she's a big mouth" or "I can't stand being around her!"
I think that's why I enjoy blogging so much. Because I'm able to have a voice. I have my own little corner of the Internet where I can say what I want, love what I want, be mad at what I want. And if someone doesn't like it...they can simply click off. ; )
