Childhoodtake2!

"Healing is so hard because it is a constant battle
between your inner child who is scared and just wants safety -
your inner teenager who is angry and just wants justice...
and your current self - who is tired adn just wants
peace."

And there you have it.
Healing.

To those who feel so deeply, healing can feel like you're a little dead inside.
You mean to tell me it means I'm not obsessing, I'm not suppressing, I'm not dreaming about it, I'm not fighting them in my head, I'm not angry, I'm not on the floor with tears?
I'm not a mess. I'm not constantly bursting into tears. I'm not telling myself I made it up in my head. I'm not taking all the responsibility. I'm not taking any of the responsibility.
I just am.
And maybe it's because I've been grieving for so long that now every part of me has been through it.
Now, it just is.
And I now am...what, ok?
My body, heart, mind, and even my toes, all of me, accept it.
This is what healing feels like.
My whole body just accepts it.

Littles, I don't know how to tell you about this.
For your mamma, the one who had to write about how shocked she is that her toes aren't feeling anything because she feels things right down to her toes, she doesn't know how to explain this feeling.

I hope it is because I have been putting in the work.
I hope it is because I have been learning, working, crying, sharing.
I hope I have been learning about accepting myself, and expecting MORE out of myself.
I hope this means I will have moments of loss and still cry over loss because losing and grieving are the ultimate forms of love and our final love letters.
I hope this means I will learn from these years and take them with me into the future.
I hope this means I am learning how to cope...better.

So, to the little girl who is scared and wants safety, you are safe.
To the teenager who is angry and wants to hear the apology as justice, you can forgive without it.
And to the woman who stands here today, accept the peace that is here.

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 legacy.

I've thought a lot about this word recently.
I've thought about Nonno's legacy, what he wanted to leave.
And what he wanted to leave...it was all possessions.
Because for Nonno, leaving behind a home, land, wealth...that was his legacy.
He worked his whole life.
He worked his fingers to the bone.
And for all of his faults, and there were many, being a hard worker was his greatest strength.
He worked to leave us something.
He worked for us.
He told himself it was all for us.
He told us, it was all for us.
He worked so hard, and in the end, it's all he wanted...more time to work.
More time to add to his pot.
More time to do what made him feel alive...work.

I get a lot of that from him.
I certainly do not work hard labor like Nonno.
I do not have hands with caked-on dirt.
I do not have superhuman strength because I have worked hard labor for so so long.
But I do have an incredible work ethic.
I do have a superhuman work ethic and I can work and work and work.
And left to my own, I would choose work over all other actitivies.
But that is not my legacy.

My home, the one your dad and I spent so much time work on.
Building.
Curating to be ours.
Exactly how we want it...making it homely and lovely and just to our liking...
it's not our legacy either.

The jobs/careers/homes/possible future homes/possible future vacation destinations...none of that is my legacy.

It's you.
You two.

It's the two most amazing people I have ever met.
The two I never even knew I wanted, but always needed.
You are both my legacy.

When I look back on this life that I have built, the one I have actually wanted...
I will think that you are my legacy.
My love for you, my breaking of cycles, my outpouring of emotions, my two most amazing creations.
You are my legacy.
You are my name, my being, my beating heart.

I never knew it until I met your father...but mothering you is what I was made to do.
Being the front row audience to your life, it was my destiny.
See, I fought having you.
I fought the thought of you.
But you were and are what I was made to create.
You are my legacy.

So go...be you.
Be amazing, wonderful, or plain and steady.
Just be you.
All in and glorious you.
You walking this earth and living your life, that is my legacy.

Oh, I know it aches
How your heart, it breaks
And you can only take so much
Walk on, walk on

When I was in my 20s, I would take these long runs or super long walks in Rochester.
I was lost in my career, not loving my city, and had a lot to think about.
This song would come on, and I found myself hitting repeat.

Home, 'til I know where it is, I will have to be one

I finally spoke up and said that I needed to leave, I needed to find a new place to call home, I needed something different and I needed to move.
Move apartments, move cities, move on.
So, we walked on.

We landed in a town that immediately felt like home.
Warm, fun, inviting, busy, small, quaint, home.
But most of all, we found out so much more about us.

We found out how important connection is.
We found out how important family is.
We found out how much we could take, do, together.
We found out how much we could stand and we found out how important it was to always come back home.

Fast forward to my later 40s, and so much has changed.
Marriage, two kids, saying goodnight to our first puppy, adopting two more to fix the broken, a downtown apartment that we left for a house that turned forever home.

And so so much has stayed the absolute same.
I'm still the same person, taking those long runs and even longer walks.
This time, two puppies are by my side.
This time, thinking about things in my life that are harder to move on from.
I can no longer just change towns, locations, and I do not want to.

But, I still feel a little lost.
A little unsteady, and there is this voice creeping up, telling me the seasons are changing.
Summer is ending, fall is around the corner, and once again, I need to move on.

This is not a curtain call
This is the greatest act of all...
Walk on, walk on
Stay safe tonight

This time, I feel so content in my career.
This time, I love love love my city.
This time, I adore this home we built together.
But still, things need to change.
I need to change...again.

And if the dancer on the street
Wears a veil of tears
It's a dance no army can defeat
Love turns her fears
Into a kind of rage
That can't be kept inside a cage

I have a lot of moving on to do.
I have a lot I need to leave behind.
But, letting things and people go is not my strong suit.
I don't easily pick up and move on.

Yeah, I know it aches
Your heart, it breaks
You can only take so much

But sometimes, you don't have a choice. It is made for you.
Sometimes, people decide to walk on themselves - and you just watch them go.
And with it, a piece of your heart, your love, your precious, safe, and loving love.

Oh, I know it aches
How your heart, it breaks
And you can only take so much
Walk on, walk on

I spent my 20s building a life that I wanted.
Picking my family.
Picking my home.
Picking and selecting and curating and building.

All that you fashion
All that you make
All that you build
Whatever they break

And then sometimes, it falls.
Sometimes, it fails.
Sometimes, it gets wrecked.
Sometimes, it gets left behind.

And you are told to walk on and leave.
You are told to move on and go.
You are told to let go and so you do.

All that you dream of (walk on)
All you design (walk on)
All that you can't leave behind (walk on)
All that you reckon (walk on)
All that you dare (walk on)
All that you fought for (walk on)
When it wasn't there
All that you summoned (walk on)
The hills that you climb (walk on)
All that you can't leave behind (walk on)

All that you can't leave behind...walk on.