Fearless

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve.  The last day of 2014.  The wrapping up of this year and the preparation to welcome a new one.
I have spent many years as an anxious mess around New Years.  Fear would wrap itself around my heart and squeeze tight until I wanted nothing more than to go to bed and wake up sometime mid-February.  Beyond the flurry of resolutions and high hopes for a new year, new self, new life.
My fear was so thick, so real, so intense, that I hated this time of year. I would begin looking over the months behind us and then realize that one of these years I will face loss… one of these new years celebrations will mean that I leave behind a year that held someone I love and walk forward into a new year that won't hold that person inside of it.  I would struggle to exhale, knowing that someday, some year, loss will inevitably come.

2012 was the year loss came to my doorstep. The year I lost in grand proportions; the year I walked out of a year that held someone I loved and into a new year without him.  Two new year's eves later, I am here. Standing. Strong.  I bear scars and have lost some innocence I needed to shed.  My eyes are wide open to hurt that can strike harshly from the belly of one you called lover, and my heart is both flung wide open to beauty as well as guarded against anything that smells anything like what I've experienced before.  I've walked through the darkest forest of grief and come through into the dawn. I've hurt and bled and raged and numbed out and here I am.  I'm not afraid anymore.  I feel the fibers of my being pulled taut in strength, reverberating with the awareness that I can do hard things.  I can be slashed and bruised and torn, but not defeated.  I have the wide open awakening that life comes to each of us, but the places of darkness and wounding need not be the end of ourselves… in fact, I feel reborn, new, thankful and grateful to get to sift out the excess filth to uncover the beauty that was waiting for me underneath.  I feel the sun living in my chest, the full life that comes not from money, or an easy life, but from the deep knowing that come what may, I will be ok.  I can do this life.  I can take a beating and rise again. I am enjoying myself in ways never afforded to me inside of a relationship that was more than a little off kilter.  I am free to explore what it is that brings me joy, and the more light that pours inside of me spills out into my children.  I find my delight in their faces. They see my contentment and snuggle into that safety like a warm cocoon.  They have watched me navigate hurtful and difficult things and keep moving.  They are learning through my dark forest that pain isn't something to be afraid of, but to be stared down and plowed through.

This New Year's Eve I will stand in the light of the midnight moon and throw my arms open wide. I welcome 2015, knowing as a sage that it will bring brokenness as well as joy. It will hold confusion, sadness and hurt, but it will also be bursting with newness and opportunity and places to dive deeper into this life that was gifted to me.  I can't wait to unwrap it and savor what it holds.

Take Me or Leave Me

I've been going to counseling for a few months now.
In light of all the trauma we've been through over the last year and a half, I knew that counseling would be a necessity, and finally have a bit of time once a week to make it a priority.

I have a love/hate relationship with counseling. When done well, it's an amazing tool to excavate those places in your life that need digging out, restructuring, rejection or assimilation into our daily lives.  Having a good counselor who leads you through the terraced gardens of your heart and can help you begin to identify weeds from healthy plants is a gift.  There are also some counselors who talk about themselves too much or get fixated on a detail that might not be important to you, or who have their own filters and judgement from personal experience that prevents them from looking into your struggle objectively.

I have a good counselor.  We have many shared experiences, but she is objective, soft spoken, and firm. She helps me navigate what seeps up to the surface that needs to be skimmed off, revealing soft healthy flesh underneath. She encourages me to be vulnerable and makes space for that in every way. I often leave feeling depleted, but also renewed at the same time.  Similar to giving birth. New life coming forth out of pain.

One place I'm identifying as a struggle for me is my irrational need to please people.  I don't see myself as a people pleaser on the outside... but my actions have led me to the truth that I work hard to be all things to all people.  And.... I have taken this so far that I have avoided identifying myself or classifying myself so that I wouldn't make anyone feel left out or somehow alienate others.  When I was in college, I hid, behind dance clothes, and messy buns in my hair.  I loved fashion, but was afraid to own that love because I was afraid other girls would think I was being shallow.  I was jealous of the sorority girls in their slick, black pants and boots, but I was too afraid to be one of them, because I knew that girls who weren't in sororities sometimes felt left out... and I didn't want to be in the group that seemed exclusive.

When I got engaged, I kept it low key then too.  I was afraid if I was bubbly, and passionate, and giggly, that others might think that I was immature, flaky and overly emotional.... and that would mean our relationship wouldn't last (ironic, isn't it?) When I became a mother, I didn't want to be identified as just a mom.  I was scared to slip into the hidden recesses of being alone, or only spending time with other mothers, and so I began writing to give me an outlet outside of mothering.  As my children were born, and the boys started being given autism diagnoses, I didn't share that very often because I felt that since my boys were verbal, if I took on the identity of being a mother to boys with autism,  I would somehow invalidate the struggle of having non-verbal children; and I didn't want others to think I was using the label as an excuse for less than desirable behavior.

As I've moved more naturally into my role as a mother, and have shed some of that insecurity, I still see how I struggle to say no.  I have four kids on my own, and am having to find ways to provide, but I get scared to say no, or create boundaries, or put myself and my kids first because I am afraid I might offend someone.  Obviously, I can see logically that this is way off balance.  I DO have to take a new identity now- whether I want to or not.  My new identity as a single mother will make some uncomfortable- others who might not agree with my choices.  And yet?  I have to provide for these children. I have to learn self-care.  I have to learn how to identify and work towards meeting my own needs, and not feel badly about doing it.  I can't be all things to all people, because the people who get let down are those I care the most about.  I can't do all things well, and need to focus on doing a few things excellently.  I can't do it all.  I can't.  And now my job is to begin to explore what is so timid, broken, insecure in me that says I need the continual perceived approval of others in order to live happily. The reality is, trying to please everyone doesn't breed peace, it breeds resentment... because I know at a soul-knowing level, that I can't do it, and so I get angry at myself for pretending that I can.

It's time to make space for my identity. To claim who I know I am.  To not be afraid to wear the clothing that I want- even if I believe it might look too flashy to other women.  To not be afraid to claim that my boys do in fact have autism, even though you may never guess if you catch us on a good day.  To be a mom- even though sometimes that doesn't feel like a special enough title.  To say no to people I care about sometimes so that I can take care of me and the children more efficiently.  To write my heart even though many may disagree.  To claim my truth though it makes others squirm.  I believe that while not everyone needs to like me, agree with me, love me or support me, I will be able to love others better as I begin to learn to fully love me. I have to examine the judgement in my own heart that then believes I'm being judged in the same way. I have to learn to love all of me in order to more purely love all of you.  This might seem simple, but this is huge for me. I have spent a lot of time denying me in order to please others.  I am being pushed into a place of incredible authenticity and it's painful and freeing and strange.  I'm thankful I'm beginning to put words to this awful habit of mine, and am praying that I can start to shed some of the protective layers of people pleasing in order to uncover the authentic me.