Childhoodtake2!

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. 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 vacant.

I vowed to see and protect my light this year.
I vowed to remember who I was, what I was proud of, what I needed to feel like me.
I vowed to protect it.
And then my light kept getting blown out. And each time I worked to re-light it, it was snuffed once again.
And then, I saw how vacant my eyes were, how I became a shell of myself.

And I stayed there.
I lived there.
In a place of no light, no love, no me.
I was vacant.

Vacant of emotions.
Vacant of care.
Vacant of worth, self-worth.

But then, slowly, gradually, the physical pain I was feeling started to disappear.
Slowly, gradually, my pain level reached a 4 instead of a constant 8, and I could once again hear my thoughts.
I could once again shower myself, dress myself, and a small flicker of light started to make its way back in.
Slowly, gradually, I started to be able to move my body again.
Slowly, gradually, I started to find me in the fog again.

I will not allow 2025 to take all of me away with it.
I am the only one that can fight for my light, my love, my heart.

As I sit here...
It has been five very long, frustrating, discouraging, painful, sad weeks of not moving my body.
I have never ever gone this long and I am not dealing very well with it all.

As I sit here...
The sun is finally out more than it is sleeping.
The weather is starting to change and spring is making her way.

As I sit here...
My newest little lady is obsessed with me. I'm her very best friend.
She has been my joy, my laugh, my smile, when I needed it most.

As I sit here...
Pearl is still my perfect puppy.
She is working really hard at being a good big sister even though she is feeling left out, left behind, left.
But sweet love of mine, I adore you, I always have, I always will.
I still love your hugs and snuggles, and snores, and ears, and head tilts, and the way you sleeep.

As I sit here...
My daughter is about to turn sixteen.
My son, thirteen.
I will soon have two teenagers and one will be learning to drive.
But that daughter of mine, still randomly tells me how much she loves me.
That son of mine, he still hugs me (not has tight, not as long) and still lets me give him little guy smooches.
He's still upset if I get hurt, or am sad.
He's still worried about me and allows me to worry about him.
My 16 and 13 year old children are incredible people.

As I sit here...
My husband and I are still in love.
In fact, I'm falling for him harder and feel that my love is becoming a needy annoyance.
I just feel like so much is happening, and he's my only constant, I need more and more of a reminder that we're going to be us.

As I sit here...
So much is changing, so fast.
I feel like we are on a fast track on our lives.
So much is going to happen with zero pauses and zero breaths to take.

As I sit here...
Right now, I just realized that maybe my falling, dislocating this stupid elbow, and being unable to move, shower, brush my teeth, dress myself, and be myself was the universe telling me to stop.
Maybe I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and take it all in.
Maybe I needed to stop and watch instead of do and be.
Maybe I needed to use the time to stop and watch.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. 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 journey.

Normally, when a prompt like this, I would write all about my journey into motherhood.
How different it's been for me.
How it's been my second chance at childhood.
How you both gave me that and how much I want to thank you each and every single day for that.
How much I enjoy laughing with you.
How much I enjoy being with you and how much I love to hug you and still kiss noses, give little guys.

But this week, I'm going to write about another journey.
A journey in patience and grace, and me waiting to heal.
Because almost four weeks ago, I dislocated my elbow.
And something so trivial and so stupid, brought so much frustration, so much anger, so much pain, so much care and love.

My family came right to my side.
My husband begged for urgent care to help me.
My son cried with me and couldn't believe what was happening.
My daughter was so scared being far away.
My friends came to get me.
My mom came to cook and clean.
My sister messaged me daily to see how I was.
My brother and sister in law sat and listened to the whole ordeal.
My husband has been a saint doing everything that I can't do.
And in the beginning, he did everything.
He had to shower and dress me.
He woke up in the middle of the night to give me medicine.
He took me and the kids everywhere.
He washed every dish, cooked every meal, cleaned up everything.

All while I slept through the pain.
All while I watched through the frustration.
All while I sat and waited.

My journey will bring me so much time where I'm not allowed to work out.
A first for me.
I didn't even take this much time off after having babies.
Even walking has been scary, especially after 2 additional falls.
So, I wait. Because this journey is about learning to be patient, slow, and learn to wait to heal.

My journey brought me a week of so much pain I couldn't work.
I had to slow peck type and most times, dictate emails.
With my daughter by my side answering as much as she could for me.
Writing up contracts.
All while I sat, and waited.

And in the end, it is trivial.
It is stupid.
It is nothing.
Just a dislocated elbow that will eventually heal.
Just a stupid mistake that I will get over.
But I have to learn to be patient.
I have to learn to be grateful, this is all it is.
I have to learn to wait, and heal.