God uses my tough times to teach me who I am.
I need to remember that.
I’m re-learning who I am, finding me again. A me not tied up in the things I have or my job or the people who depend on me.
It’s honestly strange.
I’m not a blank canvas. My life experiences have made me me. My relationships have made me me.
All of that is good.
But it can be bad too.
This is a season of change, and not just because menopause sucks.
I didn’t realize how much my me was tied into the we that DH brings to my life. Again, not a bad thing. I’ve spent over half my life with Brian and he makes me a better me. That line “he completes me” is absolutely true.
However, life threw us a giant detour and suddenly we are not we. We are me and him in different places at different times FaceTiming and talking and together sometimes.
I didn’t realize how much I depended on Brian to help me be me until this year. Last year it felt like a temporary situation. This year it’s life, our new norm. And I need to deal.
But to do that, to deal, I need to be good with me as me. I need to be grateful for the times there’s a we, but I have to be okay when there’s not, and that’s not easy. I am selfish and whiny and not even a little bit grateful.
More than anything I’m afraid. Left to me I work and watch TV and that’s not living. That’s letting life happen. So it’s time to stop that. It’s time to actually do the things I want to do. To figure out me. To be courageous. To change my mindset and remember how I started this post: God uses my tough times to teach me.
Happy Mother’s Day to the woman who taught me visits with Grandma were the best vacations, Young and the Restless is timeless, kissing on a bridge was not “making love,” there’s an art to walking in high heels, knowing if you’re a winter or a summer matters, the birds and the bees talk using the dust on the dashboard could be traumatic and hilarious, dance parties make everything better when you’re a little kid, shorts can be too short, sunscreen matters, koolaid and popsicles make hot summer days amazing, the best stories are the ones you make yourself, Writer’s Digest is a thing, Silhouette Romances are the best, kissing the man you love on the couch in front of your kids is a good thing, Mary Kay makeovers are the best, roses roses smells delicious but it’s brutal on those with allergies, matching Mother’s Day dresses can be a blessing and a curse, there’s a way to hold your mouth just so to get that perfect curling iron curl, the feathered hair haircut is perfectly achieved by putting hair in a ponytail and snip, great legs are genetic (wah!), great nails are too (yay!!!), chocolate fixes everything (wah!), fresh tomatoes-onion-cucumber does too (yay!), power through when you mess up singing, practice so the mess ups aren’t constant, it’s worth it to wake up early to see a royal wedding, reading is fundamental, recipes matter, “don’t make me stop this car” strikes fear in the heart of all kids even when they’re not in a car, and a whole bunch of other stuff. ❤️ Love you Mom. MB
It happened. Actually it happened quite a while back now. I’m a grandma, and I finally understand all the talk about how amazing and wonderful that miraculous journey is.
People have always told me nothing beats being a grandma. Now I know it’s true. For future reference on the blog this will be DGD (Darling grand daughter). You can see from the photos that we’re kind of in love with this sweetie.
When I started this blog, I didn’t have Facebook or twitter or Pinterest. My daughter was in junior high. I’d lost a lot of weight on WW (and then gained and lost and gained and lost…). It was super bowl time and I talked about strawberries a lot. I wrote a lot. I read a lot. I posted crazy photos. I dreamed about traveling. I was a cat mom and never thought about owning a dog. I ate carbs all the time (thus the weight gain and loss, gain and loss). My grandparents were alive and I went to stay with them every once in a while, usually with my daughter. My grandma sang all the time. She and her best friend my Aunt Helen let me take their photo at family reunion, I belonged to a yahoo group called catarom and spent a god-awful amount of time reading emails. I hadn’t ever heard of education reform or the WFISD Leadership Cohort.
It’s crazy how much has changed.
Those changes are why I love this blog. It’s so amazing to walk back through life and see how I’ve grown. It’s also awesome to connect with readers and writers and just say hey.
Today I wrote 7k words. I still write a lot.
I’m up to chapter 7 in a Karen Templeton book. I still read a lot.
I deleted twenty emails and kept about 50 I need to read. I might get to 10 of them. I rarely read email now.
I checked in on facebook and twitter for what was supposed to be a second but that turned into an hour. Facebook and twitter consume time if I let them.
I was grumpy about some things and then a friend posted asking for prayers for a family member and it was like God smacked me with some perspective. I still learn a lot.
Happy reading and writing.
Hopefully I finish a book draft tomorrow before lesson plans.
Posted in thoughts
Tagged #amwriting, #mywana, 2005, blog, blogging, changes, DD, diet, exercise, Family, lessons, life, memories
One of my Georgia nieces called last night. She made her yearbook staff, so I thought that’s why she was calling. Nope. She called to tell me she LOVED Dead Girl Walking. That it was worth the 23 hours she spent reading it. 🙂
She thought Sharlene was scary at first because she was dead and all, and she thought it was funny that Sharlene was such a bad guardian angel when she started. She LOVED Addison. She was super excited to hear that Addison will be back in book 4. And I sent her a sneak preview of book 2 that releases Aug. 25.
I better get busy on book 3’s edits. She’s ready to read it now!
Coolest phone call ever. 🙂
I thought I’d spend this week sharing stories about my new inspirational romance, Letting Go. I thought maybe I’d talk about forgiveness and how it’s not for the other person, it’s for you. I thought I’d talk about people who’d been involved in abusive relationships or who’d been abandoned or who had never learned about love, but all that changed this week when I had to take a deep breath and be Mom.
When your kid’s 5, you can give them a hug and make most things better. When they’re 10, that pretty much stays the same. Maybe you add a movie to it. When they’re teenagers you can tell them what you think they should do, and often, they follow your advice. Well, not often, but sometimes. Every once in a while.
When they’re 20+ it takes everything in you NOT to tell them what to do.
ON (oldest niece) actually gave me some great advice this week. She said “Auntie, you just shake your head and don’t say anything. Let her talk. Listen. That’s how you handle this.”
Funny. It took a 17 yr old to help me help DD.
I want to go Hallmark and say our troubles make us stronger and God won’t give you more than you can handle. Or all superior and say “look chickadoodle. I’ve walked this road, and let me tell you how to do it.” Or all manipulative and say “look, you do this and I’ll do this and…”
But none of those are the right answers. The right answer is what I’ve tried to do. Listen and love and let her know I trust you to learn from this. And even though it’s Hallmark, you can’t go over, under or around. You’ve got to go through it. And always: No matter what, God’s got you in His arms. When we’re too tired, He’s there. When we’re too hurt, He’s there. When we’re too confused. He’s there. When we’re too unsure, He’s there.
And I’m there too. With unlimited hugs and unconditional love. Just like when she was five and things were easy. ###
1000 degrees outside!
Almost every time I visit DD at Starbucks these perfect supermodel impersonator German or Italian mothers with several small children who look like they jumped off the pages of an Osh Kosh b’Gosh ad are in line with friends. For some reason I think that image stuck in my brain when I said my niece and nephew could spend the night one day this week.
MAN, kids are hard work! I have no idea how the above mentioned women look like a million bucks while raising children.
By the time Ella and Alan left, I was worn out. It’s going to take 48 hours to recover from a 24-hour visit.
But you know what? We had a blast. And all those Spring Break plans that didn’t happen because I chose Auntie Time instead? I’m cool with that.