This is a super raw, unfiltered, short but kind of long story that's been on my heart to share. I hope that it resonates to someone else that may share similar feelings.
The Pressure. Odds against you. People want want you to fail or fall. Tear you down. Find joy in your failures or give you a condescending "I told you so." A few things we were told when we found out we were having Brogan. At 18 + 20. Your life is over. You've ruined your future. You are a loser. Your baby is a bastard. That poor child. You made a stupid move. You'll never last. Whore. Trash. Incompetent..... (Long pause and deep breath after that.) Now... I don't know which one hurt more or why I still carry these with me. I was very young and impressionable, I still am I suppose.
Me. A little fun fact about me. I love a strong personality. Obviously. If you know me, or have followed me on here for any length of time, you will see I am basically surrounded by strong personalities. Everyone close to me has a loud mouth and a fierce heart. Thats my kind of people. That said. When I am around a lot of people that I don't know, I feel embarrassed. Not good enough. Weird. Alone. I don't feel confident. Nothing I say will bring value to anyone. I stay back. I stay quiet. Did you know THAT about me? You do now. What is that? That's not who I am when I am with people I know. People I care about and feel safe with. People who I know love me. Is this a trust thing? A self worth thing? I don't know. Maybe I need a few more self help books. Maybe it's my 30's. Are the 30's a weird time? It feels like it. Why am I exploring all these emotions? I am kinda busy right now... Do I even have time to get lost in myself? Not really. I don't even have time to get lost in a book, or my husband's eyes.
Him. Speaking of my husband. My heart and soul. I am madly in love, and happy, maybe even obsessed. On a good day. Everybody knows not everyday is a good day. I put work, friends, resentments, and even the children between us... just like anyone else does from time to time. (Literally had to get Winnie in her own bed because I realized, I was physically keeping a barrier between us.) By the grace of God, Paul and I share similar characteristics. The pressures and odds bring out the best in us. We carry the the mentality of "Oh yeah? Ok. I'll show you." The drive and passion that exudes out of that man is something I admire and wish I had more of. The loyalty. It's rare. I don't tell him or show him enough. He will in no way shape or form appreciate this post. It's who he is as a person at this point and goes out of his way to ignore me on social media. He keeps me grounded. 😏 He will tell me, you got enough likes, you don't need mine.
The Mess. I recently opened up to someone about the messy side of my life. The stuff that hurts, brings the tears. The stuff that's uncomfortable to see. I was hit with the "Wow, I had no idea. You're life seems perfect." Really? People still think that others have that "perfect life?" Well. They dont. It has stuck with me. It's bothered me. It's why I'm writing this right now. No one's life is perfect, and maybe I don't show the messy enough. Example. Something we all do on here... Post a pic of a drink, or spouse, or lover. Or a nice gift. Anyone would assume we were out enjoying life, having a fun date night, right? Seeing how loved someone is... We all like that, right? "Good for them" we say....*Like* ... What we don't show you was that, maybe 20 minutes later... 2 days prior... whichever... You are are crying, low key arguing, which escalates to yelling, which results in silent treatment until bedtime, where you aplologize and hold each other in the bathroom. Surrounded by uncertainty and exhaustion. And love. Lots of it. Enough of it. So there. There is some mess for you. I know we all do it. I know we get caught up in lies everyone's highlight reel shows us.
More, Maybe. The distractions of 4 kids, 3 dogs, running a business, keeping a household impeccable... because God Forbid anyone see "my mess." See that I have flaws. See that I don't have it all together. (Inner issues, people. We all have 'em. ) Is it the things that I carry with me from my childhood? Is it the words used to describe my choices when I was 18, that I still allow room for inside me somewhere? What will fix this? My 40's? A therapist? Should I hold some crystals and go deep to let it all it all go? Another book? More life experience? More heartache? More laughter? Maybe all of thee above? Whatever is it. I want more. I want more life. More time with my husband. More time staring at my kids. More coffee with friends. And I appreciate so much my people. With the loud mouths and the fierce hearts. Who keep me safe. And share their mess.
The dog hair on the steps reflects who I am as a person. Or is it suppose to be "doesn't reflect who I am as a person?" See. There is work to be done on this soul of mine.