Start Again

I feel like I'm going in circles.

My feet touch down and my brain screams "what the fuck are doing here?"

yeah, yeah, I know. I guess I just needed a reminder. Or maybe I'm  sucker for punishment. Maybe I'm too optimistic for my own good.

If I were to read through my entire blog archive, I'd probably lose count of how many times I've put myself here.

I'm going to cross my fingers and hope I've got the strength to keep myself first, and not fall prey to the persuasion that always seems to push me back.

After all, I'm only afraid of the uknown. And I'm only human.

A Project in the Works

  Yesterday was tough.
  I've been sitting on a project for months now, and with December approaching faster than I'd like it to, I figured it was time to get it started.
  Back in April, we had started adjusting to living in our new home, the kids were enjoying having animals around, and I was enjoying a bit of a break from moving. It was Easter, and I was taking the kids to an Egg Hunt at the local Fire Department. My friend texted me, asking me if I could pick her up, and I missed seeing it before I went. I gave her a lift home, instead. Her vehicle was out of comission, as her ex was unstable and had done his best to damage it. That was the last time I saw her. The next day I texted her, asking if she wanted to go adventuring with me, for a drive in the back roads. I wound up convincing my Mr to accompany me with the kids instead. She was murdered that day.
  In the aftermath, I think everything moved quickly. It's a bit of a jumble, but I made certain I kept a journal next to me so I could record what was going on, because I knew at some point it would all seem like a fog for me. I did the best I could, and tucked all the overwhelming thoughts away, for future mourning. At the time, I was babysitting a number of kids, and I needed to be able to function. After her funeral service, I managed to pull aside a family member, and mumble out an offer to make a quilt from her clothing to her family members. They gladly agreed, and made arrangements to get me her clothing.
  I've had her clothing in bags in my storage room since Easter. I've pulled them out a few times, gone through, took a look at what I would be working with, but haven't been able to bring myself to cut them. I struggled with sorting them out each time I've had the bags out. Each time, I find myself lost in conversations we had, memories of our times together, crying and thoughts of what she'd be doing today, if she were still here.
  Christmas is coming, and I'd like for her children to have the quilts by then. So, I sent out a message to those who were closest to her, asking them for their help. Only one person came to help. So, we spent the day piecing out her clothing, and cutting it into squares. By the time the friend left, I couldn't keep it together anymore, and my children were due to arrive home. So, I took a few minutes for myself, and gathered myself up. I didn't think I could face another day of cutting, it was hard enough facing her clothing yesterday. So, with a few extra hugs from the kids, I kept going until I thought I had enough for the quilts I was building, and headed to bed.
  I woke this morning, thinking, God, I need to smile. So, I spent my morning surfing pointless sites with happy gifs and pictures, until my tummy hurt from laughing so much.
I reflect on the whole experience occasionally, but more so, now that the kids are back in school. There's so much to process from that time frame that it could, quite literally, take me years to figure it all out, and piece together my reactions and feelings. It's something I know will profoundly affect the way I look at things, and the way I approach certain situations. This sort of processing only takes time. And sometimes it's hard to find, time.
  So, another step of many for this project has been completed. Now to take a break before I can begin working on the next.

Grown Up

It's been so long since I've even thought about my blog, I had to do an account recovery just to log in!
It's nice to know that Blogger is now under Google, and that I'll be able to access it from my Galaxy Note smartphone. I guess, once I figure out the workings behind it, I'll be able to blog more. For the past few years I've turned to Facebook to do my blogging for me. While I keep it to mainly random thoughts that float through my head, and moments that I notice that make me happy through the day, I definitely miss the ability to share a whole concept with my fellow bloggers. I haven't journaled or blogged in so long, it's like I've lost a good friend.
So, it's nearing my next birthday. 33. My oldest is now 12, my youngest is 8. They give me joy and drive me insane all in one day. I'm grateful that I can still see their innocence, that they still call me mommy, and that they are children. At those ages I wasn't, still a child. I was some sort of freak hybrid. I feel sad, when I realize that my childhood wasn't what I thought it was. Reflection tends to do that to me. But, it also makes me fight harder for the things I know that my children SHOULD have. Not like I'm a parenting expert, but more like I know exactly what I don't want for them, and I work my way backwards from there.
My children know that I love them, that I'm here for them if they need me, and that they can trust me. I don't expect them to respect me, or follow in my footsteps...in fact I'd be aghast if they did. What I expect is that they do everything that makes THEM happy. I won't define that for them. It's wonderful that they are their own beings with their own opinions, sense of humor, perceptions, morals and values. I swell with pride when I hear how honest my children are, or how they don't follow the pack, or the empathy they've shown others.
What leaves me in awe, everyday, is that these little people have come from me. What gives me hope for any future that may be, is that they will be there, leaving their own mark on the world, however they choose. They know their own value. They're strong, and willfull, and wonderfully independent.
And in seeing this every day I'm with them, makes me realize what a successful parent I am.
I've never expected to be a success. Not at anything worth praising, anyways. It surprises me.
There was a Teacher's Strike, here in BC, over the last few months, that had the kids leaving school early for summer break, and going back late for a new year. I chose to keep my summer as open as possible. Not plans, no garden, no traveling. I wanted the boys to lead me in what they wanted to do with our time. Consequently, we spent nearly every waking hour at the beach. I began to wonder if they were growing gills. They were happy.
We fought, we argued, we laughed, we giggled, and we wondered with one another. My kids could read my moods just by my body language, and tuned in to the feelings that I had every day. I learned that they have sporadic minds that jump from subject to subject all day. How this doesn't exhaust them, I'll never know.
2014 has been a pretty rough year. It seems that every other year is like that, for us. We moved, our family grew, we got new things for our family to enjoy, and we lost a friend. Life changes, and it does so quicker than anyone would like it to. There were a few times during the year that I thought to myself  "I can't do this", "I can't survive if life is going to continue like this". Hence the relaxing summer. By the time summer arrived, I needed a break. We all did. The stress from the beginning months of 2014 left us all haggard and slow, and we've only just caught out breath.
I'm continually surprised at those moments, where I feel weak, and brittle. Somehow, there's a voice that says to me, "Breathe, and take another step". Before I know it, I'm looking back on the shitty thing that just happened and I'm wondering how the hell I made it out the other side.  Considering I was suicidal a couple of years ago, it's amazing to me that I've found that strength that I turned away from, and I welcome it in the times that I find it hardest to move.
My coping mechanisms aren't where they "should" be, but I'm content with them as they are. I have a tendency to stuff it away for later reflection. That happened from having the kids around me night and day for so long. But the later reflection is savory. It's delicious, in it's own right. And while I don't prefer negative or positive feelings, I'm learning to accept them just as they are. Both can be turned into the other with perception.
So, with all that being said...I turn 33 in less that a month. I finally feel like a grown up, but I keep the innocence I've built up over time close to my heart, because I've entered a time where the more I give of myself, the more comes right back at me.
The many years I've spent looking for myself, trying on each personality like I'm looking for a good shoe, has left me with the comfortable knowledge that I know who I am. I like who I am. And that's not about to change any time soon, While I'm not always happy, I'm ok with whatever comes along, and I am certain that when it does hit, it's not going to be forever. That's a helluva lotta progress. More than I ever dared to dream of, once. And...well, damn. I'm pretty fucking proud of it.