Childhoodtake2!

"This is what it looks like to be afraid and brave at the same time." - Lisa-Jo Baker

This is what it looks like to run away and towards love.

This is what love looks like.

This is what ordinary and everyday and routine and scheduled and too many balls in the air looks like.

This is what happy and crazy and blue and worried and calm and anxious and all wrapped up in you looks like.

This is what sibling love and fighting and playing and tearing us down to build us back up looks like.

It's what I live through.
In the ordinary.
In the everyday.
During the difficult moments and hours and days and weeks.
During the moments of love and honest laughter and wonderment.

This is what happy looks like.

It's what brand new mom looks like.

It's what brand new love looks like.

I fight through the fear.
I attempt to be brave.
I talk about strength and try to show you what a strong woman can do.
I fight and walk through fear.
I do it for me, I do it for them, I do it for him.
I walk through the terror and fight the nightmares in my head.
I attempt to be strong...
Minded
Body
Core
I attempt to be who I know you already are.

This is what mother looks like...

It's happy and calm and crazy and good and terrible and insane and shaking and awakening and all that is good wrapped in you.

But, I know, I realize that it will all end and I need to keep a part of me too.
I need to recognize who I am at the end of this.
I need to be proud.

This is what being afraid and being brave at the same time looks like...

Every Friday we unite for five minutes to write on one word. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on friend.
Go.

There was a time when I had walked away from the family that was chosen for me.
And I decided to choose a family of my own.
And that is where I met each of you.
At a time when I was searching.
For love.
For family.
For understanding.
For arms to wrap around me.
Souls to connect.
I was searching for each of you.
And in this time, I found you.
All of you.
And today, where would I be without you?

The ones that know me best?
The ones that know all of me?
My whole story.
My entire being.

The ones that know my fears.
The ones that know my scars.
The ones that do not care about a number on a scale.
The ones that don't care how many miles I run.
How many hours I work.
How many mistakes I make.

The ones that build me up.
Never tear me down.
The ones that give me life.
The ones that hold me high.
The shoulders I still use to cry on.

When I am tired.
When I am blue.
When I am done.
When I am just beginning.

The ones that can make me laugh and make me cry, all in one breath.
The ones that can pull me up and settle me.

The ones where our kids get to love each other and love on each other.
The ones where they love your person.
The ones that believe in you, your mothering, your career, your life, your love.
All of you.

The ones that know my story.
That know me.

The ones that warm me and fill me with love.
I cherish each of you.

Stop.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes to write on one word. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on glue.

Go.

What is the glue that holds us all together?

What is it that keeps us wanting to start and end our days together?
What is it that reminds us of love and laughter during our dark moments.

What is it that makes us run towards and away from love when they are screaming, he is crying, she is testing, and they both are whining.
What is our glue when we shatter?
When we break into a million pieces and we think for a split second, is this the end?
But, always, piece by piece, we start to pick up our broken.
We start to put the pieces in some sort of order.
We always start with love.
We always fix the broken.
Sometimes, most times, our glue is really strong.
It has to be.
It has to be strong for when we are thrown.
It has to be strong for when we are knocked down.
It has to be strong for them, for us.
At the end of this journey, you're all I want.
You're the one I want to start and end my days with.
You're my glue.

Stop.

She thinks, “Hey,
How did I come to this?
I dream myself a thousand times around the world,
But I can’t get out of this place”

It's one of my favorite songs.
It fills me of my past and reminds me of days and weeks like this one.
Days that I can't get out of my own head.
On the days I wish I were different.
I wish there was someway I could make it different.
Because, for me,
I feel most overwhelmed, most hit and empty and grey when I feel meek.
When I wish I embodied strength, grace and confidence.
And when I feel the grey washing over me.

Oh look at how she listens
She says nothing of what she thinks
She just goes stumbling through her memories
Staring out on to Grey Street

Because, some days, I still live on Grey Street.
With my quiet memories.
And not speaking what I think.

There’s an emptiness inside her
And she’d do anything to fill it in
But all the colors mix together - to grey
And it breaks her heart

And of course it breaks my heart.
They look to me for strength and grace.
They look to me for answers.
They all think I know what I am doing.
But, I am floating along, just trying to make it all work.
And sometimes, the emptiness and void I feel about myself are loud and crushing.
Sometimes, I am surrounded by reminders of failure.
A time I should have spoken up.
A time I should have stood up for myself, my worth.
Instead, I become me.
Quiet, tell me what I can do for you, empty and void of the confidence I see all around me.

There’s a stranger speaks outside her door
Says take what you can from your dreams
Make them as real as anything
It’d take the work out of the courage

Sometimes, I don't recognize me.
My passion, my want for change, my drive to help others
My determination, my happiness, my laugh
My want to push, my desire for community, my love of happy
Sometimes, I don't recognize me.

Because sometimes,
I live on the corner of Grey Street and the end of the world.

She could change everything about her using colors bold and bright
But all the colors mix together - to grey

Would I change everything about me?
Would I change my whole world or would I change how I react to it?
To others?
Would I allow others to take from me?
Would I allow her to feel this way?
Would I allow others to do this to her?
How will I make it different for her?

Is this why I am where I am?
Because I only say yes?
Because I don't speak up.
Because I hide in my own shadows.
Because I become that little girl, all over again.

And though it’s red blood bleeding from her now
It’s more like cold blue ice in her heart
She feels like kicking out all the windows
And setting fire to this life
She could change everything about her using colors bold and bright
But all the colors mix together - to grey

I wouldn't change it all.
I wouldn't take any of you away.
But, me.
I would show you what strength looks like.
I would show you strong.

There are so many things you have already given me.
So many things you have taught me.
Beauty.
A happy childhood.
Patience.
What running towards and away from love looks like.
Poise.
Love.
I will give you strength, I will give you all of me.
And, at the end of this journey, I will see what beautiful strength looks like.
In you.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes to write on one word. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on paint.
Go.

We're always painting pictures in our mind, aren't we?
We paint a picture of what we should look like by now?
What if you woke up at 35 and the painted picture on your wall doesn't look like the pictures you had dreamed of?
Of course there are times I want to wash my walls clean and start over with a new design.
And it's because sometimes the colors are so bright and loud, that it makes me want to crawl under a rock.
But, there was also a time that my world was filled with gray so I embrace the change, I embrace how vibrant my world now is.
So instead, I have to change that picture.
I have to change what I had painted many many years ago.
And I embrace the new colors, the new world, this world I chose, this world I asked for, this world I created.
I embrace how messy you make the picture.
I embrace the colors you love.
I embrace our new picture and now, we get to paint it together.

Stop.

You came to us.
You were and are slow and deliberate.
You found your way.
You waited for the right time.

You were and are strong.
You were and are cautious.
You were and are unsure.
You were and are beauty and strength and small and the biggest accomplishment all wrapped in little clothes.

You were and are magnificent.
You were quiet.
You loved and love to sleep.
You were and are warm and soft and big eyed and small toes and little fingers and big yawns all wrapped in me.

You were and are precious.
You were and are love.
You were and are everything happy and scary and loving and good.
You were and are my warmth, my smile, my frustration, my joy, my tears, my sanity, my insanity, my screams, my softness, my love, all wrapped up in you.

And then...

it started to happen...

It was a slow process.
A milestone here.
A big step there.
Walking and talking and preschool and worksheets and learning numbers and letters and books and conversation.
But, all of a sudden, you were and are big.
Big sister, big words, big opinions, big ideas, big stories, big girl.
"Mom, I'm not your baby girl anymore..."

And on this day, I will remember our story.
I will remember rocking you to sleep through movement.
I will remember baby hiccups in my belly.
I will remember baby pictures that made you out...sort of.
I will remember that long day.
The full 24 hours of labor with you.
I will remember how deliberate you were and how I wasn't ready to let you go and share you.
I will always remember our days together.
I will remember your face when I held you for the first time and I will remember the day I fell deeply in love.
I will remember our feedings.
I will remember the comfort you brought and how at peace you allowed me to feel.
I will remember how right this felt.
I will remember my baby girl, even if she isn't a baby anymore.
I remember how and why you began.
I remember our journey and
I remember our story.

Oh, sweet baby girl, happy day to you. Happiest of days always.
May love always enter and exit your heart.
May you always be surrounded and wrapped in love.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes to write on one word. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on writer.
Go.

There was always a need.
Always.
Always a way for me to speak my mind without being told what to do and what to think.
Always a way to talk about my emotions and what I was thinking.
Always.

And most of it was filled with wants and my future.
Wants of the future.
Leaving where I was and who I was with.
Leaving it all behind.

And then, I found you all and I found peace.
I found a way to accept them.
I found a way to heal.

And so now, I write about my healing.
I write about where I am today.
I write about our joys and I write about our misery.
I write about our love and our struggles.
I write about little, I write about them.

I do it late at night, or early in the morning.
I do it when life is quiet and I am able to think and breathe through my week.
I do it for you, for your memories.
I do it so you know what you have changed in me. I do it for our love.

I don't consider myself a writer.
I don't think what I do carries with it that much weight.
I do it for me, and I love sharing it with all of you.

Stop.