Dear So & So: Being Enough

Dear So & So,

Our conversation yesterday left me with a lot to think about today. I don't know why I can't shake this feeling of being not good enough lately. All I try to do is to leave others in a better place than I found them. I try to love others to the best of my ability. I always try to make sure others know how thankful I am to have them in my life; never forgetting to tell them or show them just how much I love them.

Because tomorrow really is promised to no one.

I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon, but if I do, I will always wonder if I was enough.  Did I love enough? What did I leave behind? What is my legacy?  Did I do enough to make a difference in this world?

Ever since I could remember,  I have wanted to be a mom. Somehow, I feel inadequate without a child. Incomplete. Like there's a part of me missing. Deep down I know, I am not honoring who I'm supposed to be.

That is not to say that my sole purpose on this planet is to be a parent; it's not. However,  I cannot seem to quiet the desire in my heart that knows there is more to this life than I have been living.

I am not perfect.  I have made mistakes.  I have wished for do overs. As much as I try to live without them, I do have regrets.  There are things that I have wished I said, others that I have wished I had not spoken. And in most cases, I will not get a do over.

Yesterday,  I said I was mad at God, but today, after much thought,  I know that's not true.  What is true is I'm frustrated at life's circumstances. No one promised life was going to be easy,  but no one said it would be this hard either. I know I have made it through tougher times, but knowing that does not make this eaiser.

None of this is easy. I am not asking it to be easier. I just want to know that I will make it through this tough time, and I'm not on this journey alone.  I want what everyone wants... I want to know that I really do matter and,  in the end, that has to be enough.

Love,

Lent: Pushing Through

Today, Betsy would have been 52.  I spent most of the day thinking of her.  And wondering if I should go the Ash Wednesday services at Cedar Ridge.  It still baffles me that she's gone & I just can't imagine the service without her.  After all, she was the one who creatively planned the services for what seems like forever.

Turns out, because of pain, I didn't go. Oh, how I wish I would have. I keep mulling over the past few weeks in  my head, still finding it hard to believe that she's gone now.  Yet, there is an undeniable presence of her at church.  How can there not be? After all, she poured out her heart and soul there for years.

I've also been wondering what to do for Lent.  So I give up something or add something? I have decided that for Lent, I need to write more, especially on here.  For far too long, I have gotten away from blogging. And I secretly regret it.

I think of all the moments I have missed.  All the late nights spent not asleep writing stuff that no one will ever read. And I can't even begin to tell you how many times I would start to write a post in my head, but never push through that feeling of vulnerability of being exposed on this very public blog to actually post something.

So, hear I go. Plunging back in. On purpose.  Pushing through all the uncomfortable spots for an important cause, as a friend often reminds me.  Oh, how I'm so grateful for her ever present gentle encouragement, often when I need it the most.

The truth is I've been doing some private writing, which has been therapeutic. And hard.  There have been many times where I have wondered why I keep pursuing a process that is so difficult.  Why is it that I want to work through stuff that I have crammed down for so long?

And yes, there have been many times where I want quit.  I've wanted to just stop dredging up the tough stuff that I've long since buried.  Still, time & again, I continue to plunge in, no matter how deep the waters get.

I wish I could say that these weeks have been easy.  They haven't.  I wish I could say that Jake & I have not struggled. We have. I wish that I could say that giving a voice to my thoughts and feelings came flowing out of me without much effort. It hasn't.

So here I go. I'm all in, whether I like it or not.. After all, I am fighting for an important cause. I'm fighting for me. And that's the most important cause of all.

Falling Slowly

I'm really feeling this song tonight...

Just So I Know

I can't find my voice.  Not even to write a trusted friend, even though I know what I want to say.  I want the words to come.  I want the them to pour out of me like love pours out of me - effortlessly, without thought.

When did things get so complicated?  My thoughts entangle with muddled emotions.  I breath in, trying to remember what it feels like to breathe deep... trying to remember when things still made some sense.

I feel like I've lost myself or my mind or both, knowing that I've done neither is no comfort.  Slowly, the person I used to be peeks out wondering if it's safe now.

I want someone to fight for me.  Just like I would fight for them. Telling them to not give up, fight for life, it's worth it. Telling me what I know, but need to be reminded - things are tough I know, but you will make it through.

I want someone to hold my hand, just so I know they are there. Just so I know, I'm not alone.

Happy Birthday, Beautiful!

Mom & Me, Easter Sunday 1985

Dear Mom,

I can't imagine what your eyes have seen, your hands have done & all the places your feet have led you in your 70 years of existence. When I try to imagine it, it is overwhelming. Oh, & by the way - if I ever live to see 70, I hope that I age as gracefully as you. You are so beautiful.

Mom, 6.6.2010

I know that we don't pick our parents, or our children for that matter, but I must tell you that I am glad that you are my mom. I know that may seem strange for me to say given our history, but it's the truth. No, we haven't always gotten along, seen eye to eye, been easy to live with, but we always loved one another, even if it was hard to tell at times.

You were the best mom you knew how to be when you knew how to be it. I don't know if you have regrets about me or life in general, but I want to tell you that life is much fuller when you let go of those regrets.

You have taught me to be kind & loving to those I love. That by doing the little things that matter the most, people around me will know they are thought of more than they realize. You have taught me that education is important & no one take away my intelligence, no matter how much they may try.

Perhaps the most important thing I have learned is that perseverance & determination are the paths that lead greatness, because no matter what you faced over the years, you kept moving foward & did what you needed to make sure I had everything I ever needed.

It's funny what I see now that I was blinded to before. I guess that's God's gift to us - that, as we get older, we see our life & the people in it differently. If nothing else, know this is the truth & always will be - I love you more than words can express & I am so blessed to call you my mom.

Love Always,

Reflections of Lent

Avoidance.

We all do it. Some more than others. So when Lent rolled around & I gave it up.

So for 40 days, I did things I didn't want to do. Had conversations, wrote e-mails, completed task, got things in order I had be putting off.

Truth be told, I never expected it to be so damn difficult. And often found my myself asking "What the hell was I thinking?" Any change or, to be more exact, growth is difficult. At least it should be.

We are human. Flawed & beautiful. And our actions & reactions matter.

I will not lie. There are times when I wished that I could just forget about Lent & go on avoiding. It is so much easier to do that. More convenient. Less painful.

I had conversations with people that were difficult. Some didn't end well. And relationships were forever altered - both in good ways & not so good ways. At the very least, I know I stayed true to not only my word, but who I am.

I cannot say that I don't have regrets about the past weeks. I do. I regret not trusting myself enough to listen to my inner instincts. I now know that some things are better left unsaid. That sometimes that raw intense in-the-pit-of-my-stomach feeling means something.

But (yes, there is always a but) I do not regret what I know now bc of not listening to such a feeling. I now know that some people aren't who they say they are (a lesson that I have ever-so-painfully learned before & somehow keep forgetting).

That sometimes words are just words. And even though the intention behind it may be good, actions may not follow. And there are some who, believe it or not, just do not truly mean what they say.

I have also learned that sometimes you may find a friend (or two) in that person who you never got a chance to really know, even after years of sitting in front of them every Sunday. That some friends who love you do so unconditionally.

That even when I feel displaced, I not only have a place to be, but I'm right where I need to be. And, even more importantly, that even though I may feel disconnected, I am still very much connected & sometimes, just sometimes, those connections are deeper than I ever knew.

Just think... all of that bc I decided that it was time to stop avoiding life & just let it happen.

Lent: Knowing Now (Day 20)

For over a year now, I've have found myself on a journey that I've never expected to be on. A journey to be & live more authentically. And bc of this journey, I have had a closer relationship with God than I have ever known before. So, when Lent approached this year, there was never any question to whether or not I would give something up.

I have to tell you honestly, I haven't always observed Lent in the past. Some years I would & some I wouldn't. This year is different though. It didn't really seem like a difficult decision whether or not to observe Lent this time.

What was difficult was trying to figure out what to give up. I don't really know what made me give up my defense mechanism of avoidance, but when I chose to do so I knew it would change me. I knew it would be easy, & I knew it would keep me out of my comfort zone.

Not being easy is an understatement. Here I am exactly half way through Lent. And there are, in fact, days when I very much regret giving up avoidance. Not bc I want to avoid things, but bc sometimes it is just so hard. And yes, I still wonder - what the heck I was thinking?

About a week & a half ago now, I had a very difficult conversation with Patsy. The details are not really that important. What is important is that it is a conversation that was difficult. And it was one of those conversations that once you have it, there is no going back. Bc no matter if it was intended or not, it does change things.

If you go back & read some of my entries I made at the time, you will realize that this conversation left me with many thoughts & feelings that I struggled with for many days & nights. There were even gaps in my entries, which, again, is saying something.

At the time, I didn't want to have this conversation. I feared that just having it would change things somehow. In the past, when I shared with someone something that was on my heart, it has change things - sometimes for the better, but more often than not, it has changes things that were not for the better.

Right at the moment, I can't tell you if this conversation made things better or not. What I can tell you is that it has changed things. And, to be fair, I will say that part of me regrets having the conversation. So, in a way, my fear did come true.

I can't go back, I can't change things, but I can go on from here. In the time between then & now, I have talked to a few trusted few, processed some, & even had a TPM session about the matter. And I have to tell you, having done all that, I feel so much better.

And I can honestly say that if I would have never chose to give up avoidance, I may have never had that talk. If that conversation never occurred, I may never know now what I didn't know then. And although it is too early to tell the outcome, I do, indeed, know that everything happens for a reason.

And I can only go forward from here.