Love and Closets

I'm sitting in my new house, in my new office, overlooking my back yard.  My office also serves as a walk-in closet.  So my clothes and belts are eyeballing me as I write.

I had some of my besties over to celebrate my arrival in my new home.  These women, aside from God and my family, propelled me to this place with their love and support.

I suspect it wasn't always easy to be my friend.  I had a lot of chaos in my life after Mike and I separated.  I went through stages where I was afraid to be a momma and shirked my responsibilities, I went through needing to be a momma so I could feel OK, and finally to where I am now....loving each role I've been given with equal fervor. 

I have been processing how Jesus wants me to live my life.  I sometimes feel the familiar condemnation of how I live creep up on me and I start being disappointed in myself and slightly depressed.  This is not a great feeling.  It means all the sticky notes I have posted to remind myself that I have value are thrown in the trash and replaced with the old affirmations that I generally suck as a person.  So that option is not beneficial.  Instead, I am viewing myself as I view my kids.

Jesus gave us rules and guidelines to abide by because He knew it would lead to us being the most excellent version of ourselves.  Not to inhibit us or to cause shame, but simply to propel us to greater living.  He knows that I am a better person when I spend quality time with my kids.  He knows that I am the fullest version of myself when I work out and stay out of bars.  He knows that I am the enhanced Rebekah when I date cautiously and choose my close friends wisely.  He knows that eating junk food puts a damper on my best self.  He knows that respecting myself is beneficial to my soul and surrounding myself with people who value me increases my joy.

He just knows me.

In my youth and ignorance, I assumed His rules were simply to keep me tied up and imprisoned.  I assumed He didn't want good things for me.  I assumed He gave me impossible guidelines for living because He wanted me to feel badly about myself.  He wasn't the picture of love and acceptance in my head but more a picture of disappointment and shame.  How very wrong I was.

When I give my boys rules to follow, I make sure they are aware it is because I love them and want what's best for them.  They don't get it.  They grunt and sulk and sit on the other side of the room full of anger.

I get this response because I have lived most of my life this way.

What ends up happening is that we ascribe characteristics to God that are not at all who He is.  We make Him into a crotchety old nun who is appalled and disgusted by our behavior and ready with the measuring stick to smack us on our hands when we mess up.  And we mess up.  Often.  The result is shame, distrust and red, stinging hands.

How infuriated this picture must make Him.

I worry incessantly about the damage the divorce has done to my boys.  I blame myself for much of their faults.  I worry about their feelings of safety and stability. 

But the truth is, their stability comes from knowing they are LOVED.  LOVE never fails.  LOVE won't give up on them.  LOVE will comfort them and keep them.  LOVE is the answer to all their questions and doubts.  LOVE will be there when momma isn't.

I had a period of doubting my ability to provide stability for my boys.  I was intent on finding someone to help me...a roommate, boyfriend, friend.  Anyone.  I was desperate and scared.

And here I sit...all grown up in my closet and my new house.  And full of LOVE.

LOVE never fails me.

One Screwed up Momma

I have been told more than I care to embrace that I am screwed up.  Usually from people who are upset with something I've done or said.  They make this statement and then proceed to give me reasons why this is true.  I try to tune them out, but I'm too curious for that so I end up hearing every word they say.  Sometimes they are right.  Sometimes they are wrong.  I always regret listening.

What I have decided is that their assessment of me doesn't matter unless I value their opinion.  And this is a tricky plank to walk.

In the past, I have allowed all sorts of input from all sorts of people into my life.  I listened to bartenders, new employees, acquaintances, random business people, ex-boyfriends, ex-in-laws, ex-friends, clients...and the list goes on.  I allowed their assumptions of my life to shape some of my decisions.  I allowed their assumptions to shape who I was becoming.

I threw my pearls before swine and expected to get them back.  Instead, I walked away empty handed and poorer than I was.

This past week I had two people tell me about myself.  And honestly, I don't know whether it was kind or not because once I realized the point of the text I stopped reading it.  I knew I couldn't afford to hear their opinions of me, and knowing myself I would be unnecessarily upset over someone whose opinion doesn't matter.

I heard a teacher say recently, "Why are you minding my business?" to two little people who were listening in on a conversation they were not a part of.  I chuckled out loud and decided I would adopt that saying.

I catch myself minding others' business as well.  I want to give them opinions on how they should live their life, or handle their kids...what they should say in response to a situation or what job they should go for.  I have all sorts of opinions about everything and everyone.  But I also know I am not them...I do not think like they do.  I do not have the same experiences.  I don't know their families well or their backgrounds.  I don't know their strengths, their weaknesses, their fears.  All I know is some shallow information that happened to come into my view.  If I were to give them an opinion, that's exactly what it would be....shallow.

But there are a few whose words do matter.  I trust them implicitly.  I know they love me unconditionally.  They know me.  I know them.  I respect them.  They respect me.  We have time and history to affirm the strength of our relationship.  We have mutually earned the role of opinion giver.

The tricky part is knowing when to guard the treasure of your intimate life and when to share it.

I'm not great at this.  I put myself out there too much.  I invite opinions because of this.  But I'm finding as God and I work on my self-esteem, I'm able to hone this trait.

Because I am indeed screwed up.

I change my mind.  I say one thing and do another because I changed my mind and forgot to fill you in on this new development.  I share too much.  I keep an overly tidy house and am not thrilled with people messing it up.  I nag my children.  I'm often late because I think clocks lie.  I'm hard to please as a boss.  I can't hang if it's late.  I'm a terrible nurse.  I have very little empathy in my body for illness.  I'm too generous when I can't afford to be and sometimes this means I can't pay a bill.

I have plenty of reasons to be judged.  I have plenty of space for opinions.

But the beauty about knowing you belong to the God of the Universe is there is a reason He gave me "flaws."  In the new Jumanji, the venom "weakness" saved her.  Our "weaknesses" are our strengths because it means we are in need of a Savior.

And life without the Savior aka Jesus is a life bankrupt of beauty and truth...and one I have no interest in living.

I am Worthy

Anger:  n. a strong feeling of displeasure and belligerence aroused by a wrong.
Value:  n., the regard that something is held to deserve; the importance, worth, or usefulness of something.

I have a history of making people angry.  I'm a very stubborn, quick witted woman who has an answer for everything.  If I'm keeping quiet, it's likely I am disagreeing with you silently and in that moment have the maturity to hold my tongue.  (Notice I said "in that moment")  I will hold onto the idea that I am right and you are wrong until I am humiliated into agreeing otherwise.  It's a super fun way to live.  Insert Firm Eye Roll.

Men typically have an easier time being angry because it is less invasive and much less vulnerable.  And their M.O. is to always be in charge of their emotions.  Anger is socially acceptable for men, however, so that one is a bit less stringently monitored.  But the words that are inside their angry, red faces are, "You have wronged me.  I'm worth more.  How dare you."

This idea that we are deserving of kindness and respect from others is a conundrum.  We aren't quick to give kindness and respect to others, but we expect to be the recipient of it.  If we are angering other people, we feel some satisfaction that we matter enough to invoke emotions in another person.  If they are angering us, we feel exposed and weak.

We are comically complex beings.

If I was indeed angry with God, then it is fair to surmise that I, in fact, was hurt by Him....the anger was just an easier manifestation of my emotions.  It fueled the fire that kept me and my boys alive.  I needed it so I didn't fall apart.

But being angry was me essentially saying that I deserved more.  In my state of feeling worthless, I was able to make this leap enough to know...or believe, rather... that I was being wronged.   How dare He allow me to fall in love with two men that weren't right for me.  How dare He allow me to look away while my baby drowned.  How dare He allow me to almost lose my business.  How. Dare. He.

If He loved me, He wouldn't have allowed these dreadful things to happen to me.

Thus, He must not love me.

Under the anger resided a rapidly flowing river of pain that was wide as the universe.

Living a life that is bankrupt of the love of God was terrifying.  I was in a dark place without light.  I made choices that were self-destructive and at times dangerous.  I was living the way someone lives when they don't value their own life.  I stayed alive only for the sake of my boys.  For two years I allowed darkness to rule my life.  For two years I hung on by a thread just so my boys wouldn't lose their mother.

Love causes you to live a life of purpose and fullness.  Living without it...quite the opposite.

So beneath all my anger was the firm, immoveable belief that I was unloveable.  That I was, at my very core, without value.  

My boys and I went to see "A Wrinkle in Time" for Mother's Day.  In the movie, the main character Meg was given the gift of her faults.  Her bewildered response when she received this gift was, "You do know these are the bad things about me, right???"   Mrs. Whatsit, the giver of the gift, replied, "But is it?"

God says in His word that He knit me together in my Mother's womb.  The science and creativity that went into that one moment...I would be daft to not acknowledge that I was created in a specific way for a specific purpose.

Mrs. Which: [ to Meg] Do you realize how many events, choices, that had to occur since the birth of the universe leading up to the making of you?  Just exactly the way you are.

Anger may have been a great tool for me to feel less lost for those years.  But at the core of my anger was the hopeless, desperate feeling that I was unloved by my Creator.  Yes, atrocious things happened to me because there is incredible, overwhelming evil in the world and I am in desperate need of a Savior.  But my anger with God was nonsense because I belong to the God of the universe who took one look at me and said, "It is good."

Angry at God

I wasn't planning on going.  I was happy to stay in my pjs and putz around my house alone.  I hadn't gone out the night before, suprisingly, so was completely rested and clear headed.  My head hit the pillow at 9 p.m. and I didn't move until 6 a.m. the next morning.  But as a rule I stay home on Sundays when my boys are with their dad.

But my dad asked me to sell his books at church.  I had a split second to decide and before my brain could come up with all sorts of excuses, I said yes.  I quickly dressed and was out the door in 15 minutes.  Somewhat lamenting my quiet day at home, but happy to do my daughterly duty.

That one decision set something in motion for me.  A change that has been patiently waiting for my spirit to catch up.

My dad preached on not giving up on your goals.  It was a message I'd heard before in various different ways from various different people.  But that day, my spirit was ready to receive it.

My goal is to be the best momma I can possibly be to my boys.

I've been a bit sidetracked for the past 2 and a half years.

I've been seriously angry at God.  Like seething.  Like not-able- to- listen- to- anyone's- success- story- because- I'm- so- angry- at- where- I- am- in- my- own- life angry.  ANGRY.

Typically I sit in church and bemoan my life.  But this day it was different.  I felt like I could breathe without sucking in breath and squeezing it out of my lungs in painfully small puffs.  I was receiving the air fully.  And the message.

I have told myself for two years that I was not fit to be a mom.  I couldn't do the job alone.  I wasn't up to the challenge. I did not adult well.   I couldn't hack it alone.  I needed a man to fix me.  I was a mess.  I couldn't take care of myself much less them.  I wasn't strong enough.  Or good enough.  Other single moms could do it, but I didn't have what it took. 

And because of all these lies I told myself, I chose things over my responsibilities.  My emotions demanded it.  I was drowning in a tub filled with sadness and anger.  And doing my damnedest to ignore both of those things.  I sat at a bar when I should have been working.  I let other people take care of my boys so I could feed whatever damaged need I was having at the moment.  I neglected my friends who knew me well enough to see what I was doing and found others who didn't.  I came up with all sorts of excuses to justify my behavior.  But deep down I knew that it was simply because I. Was. ANGRY.

My boys were these terrifying little needy creatures that did not get with this belief.  They believed I was the best mom in the world.  They hugged me like I did not just yell at them or forget to get milk.  Or was late picking them up.  Or forgot to give them their vitamins.  Or forgot to wash their school uniforms.  Or let other people care for them.  They wanted to be with me though I was dark and uninviting.  Their love for me was steadfast though my love for myself had taken a long vacation somewhere in the Bahamas.  Regardless of how hard I tried, they weren't going to stop loving me.  Or go away.

I lied to myself for two years about who I was.  I told myself I was no good.  That God had made an error when He made me.  I told myself that I was weak.  Poor.  Misguided.  Victim to my stupidity.  Crazy.  Feeble.  No good.  Alone.  Worthless.  I was a mistake and would never be able to get it together.

But I know better.  I am created by the Most High God.  He did not make a mistake when He knit me together.  He looked at me and said I was good.  I am no victim.  I am not a poor man.  I'm covered by His love.  I am no orphan.  I am not alone.

That day in church, God and I stood face to face.  And instead of wanting to spit at Him as was typical for me, I put myself in the folds of His great stature.  And my anger subsided.



https://youtu.be/FxmDMqc15Ak

[Verse 1]

I am no victim, I live with a vision

I'm covered by the force of love

Covered in my Savior's blood

I am no orphan, I'm not a poor man

The kingdom's now become my own

And with the King I have a home

[Pre-Chorus]

He's not just reviving

Not simply restoring

Greater things have yet to come

Greater things have yet to come

[Verse 2]

'Cause He is my Father, I do not wonder

If His plans for me are good

If He'll come through like He should

'Cause He is provision and enough wisdom

To usher in my brightest days

To turn my mourning into praise

[Pre-Chorus]

He's not just reviving

Not simply restoring

Greater things have yet to come

Greater things have yet to come

[Interlude]

We just fix our eyes on You, Jesus, today

What You said, will reign

Just lift up your eyes, let your faith 'rise

[Bridge]

I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

Oh-oooh!...

[Chorus 1]

I'm no victim, I live with a vision

I'm covered by the force of love

Covered in my Savior's blood

I am no orphan, I'm not a poor man

The kingdom's now become my own

And with the King, I have a home

He is my Father

He is provision and enough wisdom

I am no victim

Oh, I am no victim

[Bridge]

I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

Oh, I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

Oh, I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

Oh-oooh!... declare

[Chorus 2]

I'm no victim, I live with a vision

I'm covered by the force of love

Covered in my Savior's blood

I am no orphan, I'm not a poor man

The kingdom's now become my own

And with the King, I have a home, home

I have a home

Shallow Roots

I was listening to all the different memories and stories the staff had of my dad.  It was an emotional moment.  With each church, there was a similar goodbye.  I wanted to tell them all that they had accurate pictures of him...he was the same man at home as he has been through the duration of his career.  But my tears wouldn't allow it.

Only five more Sundays until my dad officially retires.  The closer it gets the more discombobulated I feel.  Twenty years ago I settled here because my sister lived two hours away and was pregnant with her first baby...my first niece.  This was home because they were here.   I could have settled in Texas where most of my extended family was.  I probably would have had a better career.  I probably would have married a man more similar to me.  I probably would not have divorced.

Or I could have made the same mistakes and been divorced twice.

The infamous "what if" game.

When Mike and I were married I wasn't terrified about my parents retiring because I had him and all his family.  He has solid roots and I got to be a part of that third generation New Orleanian family.

Never would I have thought that I would be in this position....divorced, raising two boys alone....when my parents moved.

But that's kind of how life rolls.

You can't anticipate much.

I've lived in a multitude of places and cities.  Moving never scared me when I was younger.  I could make good friends wherever I went.  I am supremely curious by nature and not afraid to meet new people. But now that I have two little boys to consider, moving is terrifying, my curiosity is not as heightened, and the thought of meeting new people gives me pause.  Being left behind ... equally terrifying.

The reality is that I will live out my 40s in a city that I adopted.  The reality is that my roots are not deep.

The reality is that my challenge for the next ten+ years will be to make this city my home...without my parents.  And to choose happiness despite the tears.  And despite the roots.  Or lack thereof.

And for once, stay long enough ON MY OWN to let my roots grow.  For the sake of two little boys who deserve to have roots.

https://youtu.be/PUdyuKaGQd4
No Roots

I like digging holes and hiding things inside them

When I'll grow old, I hope I won't forget to find them

'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

I build a home and wait for someone to tear it down

Then pack it up in boxes, head for the next town running

'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

And a thousand times I've seen this road

A thousand times

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh

I like standing still, but that's just a wishful plan

Ask me where I come from, I'll say a different land

But I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

I count gates and numbers, then play the guessing game

It's just the place that changes, the rest is still the same

But I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

And a thousand times I've seen this road

A thousand times

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh

I like digging holes

Hiding things inside them

When I'll grow old

I won't forget to find them

I like digging holes

Hiding things inside them

When I'll grow old

I won't forget to find them

I've got no roots

No roots

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh

Mom Fails

It was a week of mom fails...well one of many.  I shoved coins in Graham's pocket as he was getting out for school.  He was supposed to bring 20 little items for Show & Tell.  I didn't even count the coins.  Brady went without a belt.  Neither of them brushed their teeth.  I forgot Brady's medicine three days in a row.

There is no chance of me getting a big head as long as I'm a mom.  So, like, no chance. EVER.  I'm doomed to a life of humility.  Maybe humiliation is the better word.

We watched Benji for our Friday movie night in Mom's bed last night.  We all cried.  The single mom in the movie struggled harder than I do...she was widowed with two kids and no family.  Brady couldn't stop telling me he loved me while we watched.  He got it.  Maybe for the first time he understood the weight that I have.  Though they do have their dad, the weight of parenting typically falls on the mother.  Doctor appointments, dietary restrictions, medicines, vitamins, clothing, extracurricular activities, homework, school obligations, emotional well being, spirituality....all of these things are on my plate.  Even if someone wanted to take them from me, it just wouldn't fly.  Moms are just like that.

Most days, I'm just thankful that my boys have clothes that fit, a roof over their heads, are well fed and rested and aren't completely stinky.  If I do more than these basic things, I try to mentally high five myself.  All moms can use a cheerleader in their head.  Mine screams at me most of the time, but sometimes she's forgiving and encouraging.

Show & Tell and belts aren't always on my list of triumphs.

I just made myself a new post-it note to add to my other list of encouraging mantras.  It reads:  "You're a great momma."

I feel like everywhere I turn, I see evidence that I'm a failure at this role.  I see it in the faces of my parents, my siblings, my friends, the teachers and administration.  But I am most likely reflecting my own feelings about myself on other people.

I feel like a failure every time I get an email from a room mom with all the things we should/could be doing to be involved.  Failure every time my boys bring a personal treat home from one of their classmates.  Failure when we run out of milk.  Failure when we're rushing out the door.

Failure when my boys are sad.

The truth is, there won't be much that happens to them that I don't shoulder the responsibility for.  Oh the joys of motherhood.  It's the height of happiness and the depth of despair all in one word: mother.

When Harry Met Sally

When Harry Met Sally....

Harry Burns: Would you like to have dinner?... Just friends.

Sally Albright: I thought you didn't believe men and women could be friends.

Harry Burns: When did I say that?

Sally Albright: On the ride to New York.

Harry Burns: No, no, no, I never said that... Yes, that's right, they can't be friends. Unless both of them are involved with other people, then they can... This is an amendment to the earlier rule. If the two people are in relationships, the pressure of possible involvement is lifted... That doesn't work either, because what happens then is, the person you're involved with can't understand why you need to be friends with the person you're just friends with. Like it means something is missing from the relationship and why do you have to go outside to get it? And when you say "No, no, no it's not true, nothing is missing from the relationship," the person you're involved with then accuses you of being secretly attracted to the person you're just friends with, which you probably are. I mean, come on, who the hell are we kidding, let's face it. Which brings us back to the earlier rule before the amendment, which is men and women can't be friends.

He said he didn't want to talk to me anymore and told me to take care.  It wasn't the first time I had heard these words.  But they never stop hurting. 

He wanted to date, but I waffled enough to infuriate the situation and caused him to cut me out completely instead.  It wasn't my intention.

I generally trust friendship.  Relationships?  Not so much. 

I don't like it when people leave me.  But the truth is...they leave either way.

If this is the case, then why the need to befriend who you date before you date them?  I didn't want to lose him.  I wanted him to be my friend.  But in the end, it wasn't enough for him.  I lost him.

If men and women can truly be friends, then there must be a way to convince your attraction of just that.  They aren't yours to have.  They are simply there to enjoy in a completely platonic way.  Which means you should be able to convince your heart of something if it's important enough.

I suppose most of the time it's not important enough.  The role you play in some people's lives is just a limited role.  You aren't meant to be there forever.  You're simply there to fill a need that is immediate.  If you can't fill that immediate role, then you are cut from the movie and another takes your place.

My dad told me when I was younger that people were not disposable and to treat them as such was wrong.

He was never a single person in his 40s.

If my fear of people leaving me drives every relationship I have, then only the truly persistent ones will stick around.  If I temper every interaction with the deep seated belief that I will be left in the long run, my interactions are superficial and limited.  People can wade in the superficial only so long before they get antsy.  They want a genuine piece of you.  They want to believe that you will invest in them also.  It takes one persistent mo-fo to be my friend....and an even more persistent one to date me.  And frankly, people just don't have that kind of patience or staying power.  So they move on to the next.

People are disposable.

I am disposable.

To believe that you are unique to someone in a world where we have access to millions of people is a bit outdated.

I remember telling my husband when we were separated that he would have to work to get me back.  I had discovered that there were other men out there and he was not at all in their league...so I thought.  He became disposable to me compared to these seemingly amazing men I had met.

How wrong I was.

I quickly learned that our years of history would never be replaced.  I would never be with another man who was the father of my children.  Who cried with me when our son was in ICU.  Who held my hand when I was birthing both our babies.  Who renovated our house with me.  I would never find someone who would be able to fill that hole that he left in my history.  Try as I may...as appealing as all those men with impressive jobs and sculpted bodies were...he was the one who stood beside me all those years.  He stood in the fire with me he just didn't have the desire to watch me emerge from it.

Getting to know someone takes time.  It takes energy and resources.  It takes patience and love.  It is hard work.  It requires character and staying power ... and persistence.  It demands that you stay even when they hurt you.  It's not an easy task.

A resume on a dating app will not give you this information.

When I look back on my history of friendships, it's the ones who have stuck beside me through my worst that are the dearest.  They didn't leave though they had every reason to because I had nothing to give but ugliness and pain.  They loved me harder.  Prayed for me with more fervency.  Carried me if they had to.  They loved me when I ugly cried.  They loved me when I pushed them away.  The ones who couldn't handle the fire left quickly.  It was the ones who were willing to get burned that mattered.

So maybe the question isn't whether men and women can be friends...it's whether you can love someone when they ugly cry...and stay long enough to see them emerge from the house they just burnt down.

That kind of love isn't disposable.



 

Momma needs a Nest

nest: noun; a pocketlike, usually more or less circular structure of twigs, grass, mud, etc., formed by a bird, often high in a tree, as a place in which to lay and incubate its eggs and rear its young; any protected place used by a bird for these purposes.

I hadn't felt overwhelmed like that in a while.  I was distracted and worried.  I couldn't stop thinking about the house.  It was on my brain as I ate lunch with friends. They knew something was off.  I thought about it as I worked.  I couldn't concentrate.

I had just looked at a house to rent and it was perfect for us.  A place I could truly call home for me and my boys.

We need this.

We lived in the family house for almost a year after my husband left.  Then with my parents for 8 months.  Now a small apartment.

The fear of not getting the place is intense.  I didn't realize how important it was to me to find a home for us until I saw this one.  We have been living in a small apartment for 8 months and we are all a bit stressed out by it.  We just need space.

Having a home is probably one of the most important things to a woman.  We are nesters.  We like to settle in and make it our own.  We hang pictures strategically placed.  We paint if necessary.  We arrange items to be appealing.  We organize.  We love our laundry rooms and our pantries.  We are just nesters.

I was floating around for a bit...both in actuality and in my head.  I didn't know where I was going to go.  I didn't know who I was going to live with.  I was just a bit discombobulated.  I guess the reality that this is my life now recently settled on me and I'm now prepared to make decisions.

It's just me and my boys.  And this momma is ready to set up a place of protection.

I haven't stopped praying over this place.  When I walked in, it was as though God was using it to get my attention.  Whether I get the house or not, He was using it as a tool to speak to me.

There is nothing more important that I will do in my lifetime aside from being a momma.  It is my sole purpose.  And that task has been given to me alone.  I have two little boys whose world revolves around me and their dad right now.  I have been overlooking the responsibility that I have to them to provide a home for them.  With stability and protection.  Love and happiness.  We have just been surviving up to this point.

It's time to build a home.  I'm all prayers that it is the house that caused me to realize all this.  My birds need a nest.  And this momma needs a home.

Should I stay or Should I Go?

 "What would you tell me if I were in your shoes?" I asked.

She blushed.  Knowing it would be the same thing I was saying to her.

It is quite different when you are living the situation.  Friends can give you advice.  And it is probably sound and good, but the truth is the reality of acting on that good advice is not easy.

Her particular set of circumstances is familiar to me.  The "he's not a good guy and we need to break up" set.  She was in my shoes...the giver of good advice...many times.  Rarely did I listen.  I had to let the situation blow itself up beyond repair before I did anything proactively about it.  I'm prepared to watch this same thing happen.

I hear it in my friends' voices who are married.  They call me when they are at the bottom, full of despair and know I can relate.  And inevitably, when I check on them the next day or a few days later, they are hopeful again and embarrassed by what they told me.  Their tune is quite different this time.

"He's really a great guy."
"I was just having a really bad day."
"We talked about it and I feel so much better."
"I just misunderstood what happened."
"He really does love me."

And all sorts of similar responses.

We both know it's bullshit.

I lived in two marriages where I did this exact same thing to my friends.  So much so that some of them asked me to stop talking to them about it.  Some didn't have to ask.  It was just a natural progression.  I knew that until I left, my attitude about our marriage would be predictable.  I would hate him and want to leave....then I would love him and be glad I stayed....

Rinse and Repeat.

Over and over.  And over.

I lived like that in my first marriage.  For three long years.  I was on a roller coaster of emotion and I couldn't get off of it.  Until I felt at peace and made a decision.  One that I did not regret.

It was God.  I don't have that kind of resolve.

In my second marriage, we just stayed inside a hurricane.  Most of the time things were good and we were at peace in the eye.  But the storms got more frequent and the duration longer.  The winds picked up speed and stuff started flying around.  The flood waters began to rise and I knew drowning was inevitable.  I wasn't happy, but it wasn't anything I couldn't endure.  I didn't evacuate.  I was hunkered down with my two boys, my step daughter and my dog.  But he opened all the windows and doors to let the flood waters in, and instead of boarding up windows and shutting the doors he had opened I cut a hole in the roof and let us drown.

Sometimes I regret that response.

Relationships are full of ups and downs.  Some are just worse than others.  My first marriage was like playing poker everyday...most days my hand was pathetic and I needed to throw it in.  But there were a few days when I had a winning hand.

It just wasn't enough.

It's all about what we can tolerate.  Can we live in a relationship where we are constantly doubting our happiness, our choices, our spouse?  Is it what's best for us and our families to stay?  Or do we need to fold and throw in our hand because the consequences are too high?

As I told my friend, I would love her regardless of what she decided because I know better than anyone how difficult it is to get away from what is by most accounts a bad relationship.

But she is the only one who can make choices for herself.  And it's not my job to judge her.  It's simply my job to be there for her regardless.

The best thing my sister ever said to me was to keep a journal of everything during my marriage and divorce so that when I start making the same mistakes, I can read through my journey and remember.  How quickly we forget the pain.

It's a blessing, actually.  I would so much rather remember the beauty.

No Hard Feelings

Avett Brothers

https://youtu.be/tFGs7HP15d4

When my body won't hold me anymore 

And it finally lets me free 

Will I be ready? 

When my feet won't walk another mile 

And my lips give their last kiss goodbye 

Will my hands be steady?

When I lay down my fears 

My hopes and my doubts 

The rings on my fingers 

And the keys to my house 

With no hard feelings

When the sun hangs low in the west 

And the light in my chest 

Won't be kept held at bay any longer 

When the jealousy fades away 

And it's ash and dust for cash and lust 

And it's just hallelujah 

And love in thoughts and love in the words 

Love in the songs they sing in the church 

And no hard feelings

Lord knows they haven't done 

Much good for anyone 

Kept me afraid and cold 

With so much to have and hold

Mmh

When my body won't hold me anymore 

And it finally lets me free 

Where will I go? 

Will the trade winds take me south 

Through Georgia grain or tropical rain 

Or snow from the heavens?

Will I join with the ocean blue 

Or run into the savior true 

And shake hands laughing 

And walk through the night 

Straight to the light 

Holding the love I've known in my life 

And no hard feelings

Lord knows they haven't done 

Much good for anyone 

Kept me afraid and cold 

With so much to have and hold 

Under the curving sky 

I'm finally learning why 

It matters for me and you 

To say it and mean it too 

For life and its loveliness 

And all of its ugliness 

Good as it's been to me 

I have no enemies 

I have no enemies 

I have no enemies 

I have no enemies

Rebekah...or...Abby...?

I have friends who jokingly refer to me as Abby at times and Rebekah at others.  Abby is the fun one who has less restrictions.  Rebekah....not so much.

Rebekah is more constricted.  She is a rule follower.  She's a good Southern Baptist girl...most of the time...

Unfortunately, Rebekah's not a super happy person and remains stressed out and confused.

Abby beats to her own drum.  She doesn't align herself with rules just because she is supposed to.  She doesn't feel unnecessary pressure to perform societal duties like Kate Chopin's character in The Awakening.  She lives her life as it aligns with who she is.

She's a pretty happy person.

Since this joke began, I've been digging into why I have two sides to myself and why they are so highly conflicted.  I'm not so daft or tied to social pressures that I can't acknowledge that this is in fact a problem within my own identity.

I am always drawn to people who knew who they were and lived their life accordingly.  They are kind to others who disagree with them, but this doesn't change their convictions.  They are steadfast and sure, confident and strong.  And they see right through me.

Two of my dear friends saw this within the first few weeks of knowing me.  I remember being supremely surprised and disturbed when he told me that he thought I didn't know who I was.  I was offended at first, but then so thankful that someone had the courage to tell me.  He knew himself well...and could spot someone who didn't out of a crowd.  He was right, of course.

I have been fighting two personas most of my life.  Most of my life I have been the conservative side of my personality.  Most of my life has called for it...or so I thought.

I am 41 years old and just now trying to mesh the two sides.  I want to be who I am, unwavering in my convictions.  I don't want to be wishy washy or conflicted anymore.  That state is more exhausting than just dealing with whatever repercussions come with being myself.

So why the fear of being my entire self?

I'm a people pleaser.  And people all have different opinions.  Thus, the conflict in who I am in order to please others.

I was raised Southern Baptist, in a family of incredible people.  But there are many rules in this way of living.  And for a rebel, it's a bit stifling.

Thus the conflict.

I have seen a big chunk of the world.  I have been friends with people from all walks of life.  All races and economic statuses.  I have read my fair share of literature that exposed me to all sorts of ideas and theories,  but lived in small cities compared to the settings of much of my literature.

Thus, conflict.

I am a preacher's daughter who has a hard time with religion.  I've grown up with people watching me, telling me how to behave and how not to behave.  Using words like, "sin" and "fallen nature" and "self-seeking" to describe behaviors that were outside of the Southern Baptist religion.

Thus, conflict.

As a single mom, I am now being required to find happiness within myself.  No one will be able to provide that for me.  I don't have a distraction in a mate.  I am being forced to find peace within myself.  And this means combining my two personalities.

The beginnings of this metamorphosis has already caused a few to worry.  I have discovered that as much as I love my children, I need more than just them to thrive.  I need to work.  I need to have adult interactions on a daily basis.  I need to write and read and spend time alone.  I need to have breaks from the responsibilities that come with being a full time, single mother.

Moving to the North Shore was on the table at one point.  And I seriously considered moving.  But then I thought about all that would mean.  I would be the sole provider for my boys.  I wouldn't have help.  I would have to drive for my boys to see their dad.  And they would rely solely on me for everything.  That idea was nixed once I processed all that it would mean for me.

Coinciding personalities challenge #1 solved.

I work largely alone in my cleaning business.  I do sometimes see clients, but they are not there to catch up on how my week went.  And nor am I.  So I have set up office at my favorite bar/grill after a day of cleaning to do invoicing and billing.  With or without a drink, I'm there.  I'm surrounded by people I know and this provides the adult interaction I need.  Instead of working at home alone on all the back office daily requirements, I do it from my phone in public.  At first, I felt superbly guilty for this and like a bit of a bar fly, but that guilt was coming from others not me.

Coinciding personalities challenge #2 solved.

There are times when I use a sitter.  And not my parents.  Sometimes I've worked hard on a project and need to get a late lunch with a friend instead of pick my boys up from school.  Or there is an activity happening that I want to attend and I go after I put my boys to bed.  This use of sitters was also a very sensitive subject.  I get a lot of push back for using babysitters when my boys are with their dad 10 days out of the month.  But when I think about how little time other parents spend with their kids and how much time I get to spend with my kids in our little apartment because I set my own hours, this guilt somewhat subsided.  I take my boys to school every morning.  I pick them up most days.  The reality is that I am a working mother.  And working mothers have to be careful about the balance between play and responsibility.  And I need my alone time if my boys are to get the best version of me.

Coinciding personalities challenge #3 solved.

I've never been a huge fan of the Southern Baptist religion.  I love Jesus.  I love my family.  I love praise and worship music.  I love listening to my dad preach.  I love seeing people I love and sitting by my mom.  But attending a Southern Baptist church is not something I would do on my own.  I do it largely because I want to please my parents and spend time with them. With my parents moving, this conflict will be removed and I'll be free to explore other religions. (Not that I'm not going to miss my parents badly....or my church....but Abby is trying to join Rebekah here)

Coinciding personalities challenge #4 solved.

I've dated many men since my divorce, and though I always said I would be monogamous if they ever showed that they were serious about me, I'm relatively certain this is not true.  I like the freedom I have of not answering to anyone.  I like my boys having just their dad to be their dad.  I like living alone and having my own space.  As much as I enjoy the interaction that dating provides, having that one special person seems like a fairy tale.  I've discovered in this modern world of dating that we are all too scared to commit and would rather just keep relationships light.  Though I'm not prescribing to having light relationships, I am prescribing to being non-committal.  I enjoy people and all the different things they bring to my life.  One has a shared love of music. One literature.  One of them makes me laugh unhinged.  One just gets me.  One takes me on fancy dinners and explores New Orleans with me.  One of them helps me discover new things about myself.  One reminds me of what it's like to be a kid.  One of them stimulates my intellect.  They are all kind.  All respectful.  All lovely men who just enjoy spending time with me and vice versa.  Instead of feeling like a "player" I now just feel lucky.

Coinciding personalities challenge #5 solved.

I love to clean.  It is my passion.  I love making people happy.  I love teaching them about how to clean their house and what products to use.  I love having the alone time it affords to listen to music or Ted Talks.  I simply love it.  I felt like perhaps I should find a "real" job that had stable hours and benefits at one point.  But I know deep in my soul that I won't be as happy.  I had a client tell me this past week that I make her life better.  Another who told me having a clean house was just what she needed after her surgery.  Another who told me that I relieved stress for her.  I. Love. My. Job. and have zero desire to do something else.

Coinciding personalities challenge #6 solved.

My life is my own. Well, it's God's but aside from that obvious fact, it's my own.  And in order for my boys to live a life where they will find peace and strength in who they were created to be, I must emulate that.

Abby is disappearing into Rebekah.  I'm thankful because I like my name just fine.

Love isn't a Spider Web

“I love my children.  I would give up the unessential; I would give my money, I would give my life for my children; but I wouldn’t give myself.” 

--Kate Chopin, The Awakening

I have read this book so much, the pages are no longer bound to the center.  I read it at every stage in my life.  It's about a woman who is a wife and mother and wakes up to find that she hasn't lived her life at all.  She has simply gone through the motions of living.  It's set in the 1800s where women's entire existence was to care for their families and put on social graces.

I would have a hard time living in that time.

She shirks her responsibilities and begins doing what she wants.  She rents her own flat.  She starts to paint.  She vacations at the beach without her husband.  She is a serious rebel.  

Rebel, I get.

I always repeated this quote when my kids were little.  Even before I had kids, it was one of my favorite quotes.

No question, I would die for my kids.  In a heartbeat.  

And I thought that living a life that was solely devoted to them was repulsive, where I sacrificed who I was at every turn.

But now...not so much.

Something changed in me when I became a single mom.  I became a fierce protector of my boys.  There isn't a move that I make that doesn't have them in mind.  Even if it's a mistake...they are there haunting my bad decisions.  I cannot live without thinking about them.  They have overtaken everything about who I am.

One of the hard parts of dating with children is knowing that you cannot introduce your kids to them for a while.  Which makes getting to know me a bit cumbersome...because they ARE who I am.  Yes, I enjoy music and reading and swimming and good times outside with my friends.  And I really, really like Mexican food.  But THEY are the central thing that makes me me.

I thought Kate had it right.  It made total sense when I was younger and married.  I had to work to maintain my identity because it's easy to get lost in the midst of so many little people (and a big man) who needs you.  

But now I just think she's selfish.

Kate's wrong because her quote was purely from a self-serving place.  It didn't have anything to do with the well-being of her children, but the well-being of herself.

I would be willing to be a wall flower without a personality for the rest of my life if it meant my boys would be complete people.  If giving up everything about who I am would make them happy and whole, I would do it.

But we know the reality is that this isn't how God made us...or how He made love.  We don't become better people when we cause others to lose themselves.  We don't get love if this is true.  God created us to be fully ourselves with the ability to love others who are also fully themselves.  And that love is patient, that love is kind. That love does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. That love does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

So if we are to love our children the way that God loves us, we maintain our identities because we know it's for their good.  We know that it would not benefit them to fade out so they can live.  Because ultimately, it's not the decimation of a person that encourages them to love and live as God loves us.  

I had many relationships where it was a requirement of me if I wanted to stay to fade.  They were angled and twisted and dark.  I couldn't make a move without finding myself stuck even more.  I told people I felt like I was living in a cobweb...the more I moved, the more steadfastly stuck I became.  I remember thinking that if I continued in the relationships, I would become a shell of myself...like so many abused women before me had become.

Knowing that loving in a healthy way is for the best, doesn't remove the fact that the desire to lose myself for my children to be happy isn't there.  It just means that being a parent, fully and totally loving your children, means also embracing that they will love others as you have taught them to love.  And requesting the annihilation of another person is not the kind of love you want your kids to emulate.

So maybe Kate did get it right...in the end she did find herself and her love for her children became healthy and fierce also.  She just needed a starting point.

It's a progression...loving your children.  So full of dichotomies and latent responsibilities.  But love...love is the #1 goal.  

If loving my kids means giving up Mexican food for the rest of my life....ummm... thankfully that will never be a choice I have to make.  

https://youtu.be/dHWajFVon_A

Rows of houses, all bearing down on me

I can feel their blue hands touching me

All these things into position

All these things we'll one day swallow whole

And fade out again and fade out

This machine will, will not communicate

These thoughts and the strain I am under

Be a world child, form a circle

Before we all go under

And fade out again and fade out again

Cracked eggs, dead birds

Scream as they fight for life

I can feel death, can see its beady eyes

All these things into position

All these things we'll one day swallow whole

Fade out again

Fade out again

Immerse your soul in love

Immerse your soul in love

--Radiohead, Street Spirit

Dating Men who Live where Happy Goes to Die

I couldn't believe my eyes.  I read and re-read the article, hoping it wasn't true.  I dissected the picture...surely it wasn't him.  But it was and I officially was a fool.

I had dated a pathological liar, apparently.

None of my close friends would be shocked by this news.  They always thought his behavior was shady.  But I felt as though someone had just punched me in the gut.  He had told me that he had retired.  He told me how good he was with his money.  He said all the right things to a single momma to get her to date him.  None of it was true.

My friend just looked sad when he showed me the article.  His response was, "I just don't know how you successfully date so many losers.  How did THAT man make his way into your heart and your life?  You are such a good person and you date people who are so not good people.  Surely you know you're better than that."

I had no response.

I thought I knew better.  After years of therapy and books on boundaries and trust, you would think I would know better.  But I am legit naive.  I believed EVERYTHING he told me.  I had more than one reason to not believe him.  His lies weren't stellar.  He said one thing and did another...which is a repeat pattern in my dating career.

I don't listen to Oprah who says, "When people show you who they are, BELIEVE THEM."

My motto instead is, "When people tell you who they are, DON'T BELIEVE THEM BECAUSE THEY ARE JUST HURT PEOPLE WHO DON'T BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES AND IT'S MY JOB TO BELIEVE IN THEM SO THEY FEEL BETTER ABOUT THEMSELVES," I say in my most Co-Dependent voice.

I'm not sure how I've held onto this naiveté for the duration of my life, but I indeed have.  I do not have the discernment that is necessary when meeting friends and potential partners.  Or perhaps I have the discernment, I just simply don't exercise it.  I like to live in La-La Land where the flowers are always blooming and the sound of waves is steady in the background for a quick walk on the beach.  I really like the beach.

The reality is a bit more bleak.  Most people are not beach-worthy material.  Most are more like living in a scary movie.  They are waiting behind closet doors to jump out and scare me.  They live in a dark house that is falling apart with weird dolls and sleep with knives under their beds and drink black coffee at 2 p.m. with a piece of dry toastwhile a roach scurries across their empty kitchen table, the curtains drawn.

They do not own sunglasses or a beach bag.

But I'm at the door in a yellow sundress with both in hand, in my happiest persona complete with a cheerful Cold Brew from Starbucks and trying to ignore the dead plants, inches of dirt and debris, and spider webs on the porch.  And when he answers the door all pasty white wearing dirty, black clothes, smelling of cigarettes and stale booze and tells me he forgot to water the plants just one day and that's why they're suddenly dead and the spiders come regardless of how often he sweeps, I believe him.

Everything about this picture screams that he is indeed bankrupt in his soul.  But somewhere in my soul I muster up the hope to believe him and go inside...all the while fearing for my life.

Why don't I listen to myself the first time?  Why do my flight responses not trigger a sprint to the door in my yellow sundress and happy sandals when I feel like I'm in danger?

I recently explored a relationship with someone that I dated previously, hoping this time would be different.  Believing him when he said he had changed.  Telling myself and him that time would tell.  Well time told, and the shocking news... he had not changed.  Thankfully, the only emotional result I felt from this revelation was a slightly upset stomach.  I had cried enough in the past over him.  I'm happy to say my tears weren't wasted again.

When my friend first introduced me to this song, I cried despite it's happy tune because it was me...through and through.

https://youtu.be/tVPwWF34u2U

What you do with trash? You take it out

So why are you letting him hang around?

Girl, you gotta know when to clean house

And throw his shit out in the yard

If it was the first time, I would understand

But it's the third time, you got a second chance

There's a fine line between an accident

And an L-O-S-E-R

It's bullshit, you know it

Yeah, I see it in your eyes

Every time that you tell me

Deep down he's a really good guy...

Until I can get a grip on running away from men who live where happy goes to die in my fastest self, my friends and family will be getting to decide who I date.

Wildfire of Emotion

The old, familiar feeling of rejection was creeping into my psyche and beginning its usual course. It spreads like wildfire.  It makes its way to my face, leaving it hot and red.  Then trails down to my heart and begins the increased rhythm of my heartbeat.  Then to my stomach, causing it to flop with discomfort.  And then to my hands, that start to shake.

It's familiar.  Routine.  Predictable...this response to the emotion tied to rejection.

Before it had the pleasure of bringing tears, however, I was able to intercept it.  I sat on the floor with my legs crossed and meditated.  I focused on my breath.  I breathed deeply enough to settle my shaking hands, my upset stomach, my pounding heart, my red face.

When I stared down my emotion, the logic was able to find space instead in my unsettled body.  I became focused instead of panicked.  I became confident instead of destroyed.

It was a small battle, but I had won it.

I have been trained to defeat emotions that are sneaky and often unfounded.  Rarely do I use the tools I have educated myself on because life seems like a big balloon taking up all the space in my small apartment, and I end up just muddling through.  But this time, I had the wherewithal to shut it down.

So much of our lives are about training our brains to respond in healthy ways to unhealthy situations.  Instead of getting unnecessarily upset over a small incident, we have the power to accept the disappointment and use it as equipment for the bigger incidents.  We get to choose how we respond to every situation.  Do we use the tools we have to bring peace and joy to our lives and those around us?  Or do we allow ourselves to be defeated in the face of seeming struggles that are doing their best to make us feel unworthy and small?

I surround myself with positive sayings so I can remind my brain, which is often daft.

"You are smart."
"You are honest."
"You are fine alone."
"You deserve better."
"You are worth it."
"You are kind."

All day, it's a decision to ignore the negative and embrace the positive.  Instead of looking at loss as something that defines who I am, I can instead choose to look at it as making room for something that suits me better.

Instead of missing my boys and worrying about them intensely, I can be thankful for the fact that their dad has a relationship with them and cultivate things in my own life that will improve theirs.

Instead of crying over insignificant relationships, I can instead choose to focus on what I want instead of who they wanted that I failed to be.

Instead of getting worked up over a mistake in my business, I can instead use it to make me more productive.

I can choose to make my life different.  Will I receive life's happenings as positive or negative?  It's pretty simple.  I have the ability to stop the wildfire from burning out of control.

It should have been different

It could have been easy

But pride has a way of holding too firm to history

And it burns like wildfire

https://youtu.be/r9jwGansp1E