Just thank you.
Just thank you.
One more bite Kelly,
Just one more bite.
One more bite Kelly,
There’s just one left.
One more bite Kelly,
I need you to take
One more bite Kelly.
When I look south
Point me north my love,
For you are my northern star.
Today I am blessed to have woke up to start my 36th year of life. Although I have always been blessed and thankful for living another day, celebrating my birthday is one of those triggers that well you can’t avoid right? You can’t stop that day from coming and as I have found out, no matter how hard you try those who truly love and care for you, will push back even harder than your pushing; they’ll push and push and push until you can be free to enjoy your day.
All these gifts, all the love, all the everything over the last few days has really made me feel something I haven’t felt in a very long time. It hasn’t been exactly an easy road over the last 45 days to get here, but in comparison to last year, this year was a high difference.
I recently reconnected with a good friend and she reminded me that I need to love all of me, the good and the bad. When she was telling me to, “learn to love even the explosions”, it has really changed how I treat myself afterwards. Am I done internalizing and beating myself up, absolutely not, only difference is I am consciously fighting myself and telling myself to love me, don’t hate me in that moment or afterward. Huge help!
It’s really hard to be raised to believe that if you want for something that it is a bad thing, and now at 36 as of today be living a life in which people are like, “We want you to want for things. It’s okay to want nice things. It’s okay to have nice things…”, and be okay with it.
I’m thankful for a medical team that has found some medications to help me with my PTSD/Bipolar Type 2/anxiety. Sure I still can’t deal with minor stressors and I freak out over what seems to be nothing at, but everyday is a new day and I start it with a fresh outlook.
I’m realizing more about myself. I listen to what others say even when they are mad. I evaluate it. I ask myself, “is this just anger or a legit thing with me?” If I find myself in agreement with them I work hard to change that thing because they don’t even realize how much I already wanted to change it in the first place.
This year my birthday is today. I turned 36. And you know what I’m allowing myself to feel this feeling today. I’m not exactly sure how to name what I feel, but I can tell you I like it. I more than anything I think feel strong today. Strong enough to overcome a little anxiety thrown at me today and still enjoy my day.
I’m growing every day.
I was challenged to do a black and white photo so here it is. It also gave me the perfect opportunity to write this blog. I was going to do it B-29 Days, but life happens and I’m not one of those hands-off parents and partners, so I definitely got distracted. So here it is, B-25 Days.
In 25 days I will be 36. I cannot believe that I’m going to 36. This past year even though has been difficult and hard and any other word that is a synonym for ‘shitty’ will work. Any word and I mean any is what this 1 year of pandemic.
I have been joking about how last year was the first year I let my fiancé take me out for my birthday. Ugh! I have this whole issue with money being spent on me that I just cannot seem to kick; I mean I did grow up hearing, “get a job” anytime I wanted or even needed something, so I guess it’s no shock that I’d be this hung up on money being spent on me. But, anyway he and our sons said, “the world wouldn’t collapse”. Next thing we know we’re being locked down and the world literally came to a halt.
Now I clearly don’t believe that it had to do with me going out for my birthday, but joking this way about it is somehow making it a little less “bad” to be celebrated. It’s like finding that irony in the situation I guess. That laughable moment; I guess.
As I’ve stated before it’s hard to go through the Holiday season and this past Thanksgiving it was rough, but Christmas/NYE were way better for me than years past. I had a few hiccups, but no major incidents and that is a huge victory for me! Getting through those times are so hard, I did it though. So much so that I didn’t want wait to open more gifts that were delivered (if you know me it’s usually quite the opposite reaction; fear, terror, a feeling of I don’t deserve this). So I’d say huge progress in 2020.
Getting through my birthday and the days leading up to my birthday can be real hard. There are lots of emotions. There’s a lot of grief (at least there was). There’s weird feelings in being celebrated. I desire it like anyone else does, but I fear it so much. Because I don’t want to get used to liking the feeling of being celebrated and loved just for it all to go away. I’m so scared to let myself fully be loved, because I’m scared this love will just up and go away, and I don’t want to live a life without love.
So I’m counting down the days and hoping that I can get to a place of enjoyment of my 36th birthday because I really do love my new life and I want to get myself to a place where I am willing to be loved again. I don’t want to freak out and run when someone gets “too close” to me. I don’t want to “push them away before they can push me away”, I want to be willing be loved and feel love again.
This damn trip down memory lane has been a real hell of a ride. I’m glad I’ve went on it because I’m feeling freedom from things, at the same time I feel some guilt and remorse for how I’ve been the last couple years. I know it’s “normal and completely necessary in order to heal and move forward from all the pain and hurt”, but it doesn’t mean I can’t feel remorse for some of the things I’ve said and ways I’ve acted.
I know that my Bipolar has a lot to do with how I handle stress, and now because of therapy today that I’m just, “…stuck in a loop again because of exposure to a trigger over the last few weeks”, and I’m completely confident that my therapist can break this “loop” again. I’m so much stronger than the other times we’ve had to break it. I hate hypomania, it really is a really twisty windy bumpy road.
I’m going to work really hard to snap myself out of this depressed state, because I’m only depressed because I’ve allowed myself to be vulnerable, I’ve chosen to walk away from the people who created/raised me, I’ve left the toxic behind…I’ve allowed myself to grieve what didn’t have and what I had and lost. So I feel like I’m stuck in this depression and I don’t know how to get out.
I’m going to fight real hard to break it before my birthday because I want to enjoy it like I did last year, even if the end of the world came and it was a lot of effort to get me out of the house, I still enjoyed myself once we did leave.
I celebrate everyone I love and I realize that I am robbing them of the chance love me the way I love them…it’s not okay to rob someone of the chance to love. So I have to fight hard this year to get over this and through this birthday.
Maybe it would help if Valentine’s Day wasn’t the day before.
When I look back,
Pull me forward.
When I look back,
Pull me forward.
When I look back,
Pull me forward.
When I look back,
The New Year started with me being woke up to sound of his voice in my head telling me to kill myself and how to do it if my life was really that bad. As I remind myself that it’s just his voice and he can’t actually hurt me anymore, I feel for a moment like I can just brush it off and it’ll be no problem.
Then I get all anxious and worked up driving my little love to work on these icy, icy roads…sure enough I start the year off with a meltdown. Tears no yelling this time. I wish people knew how debilitating the damage that has been caused truly is.
They see me smile. They see me bake. They see me do a craft project. What they don’t see is how long it takes me to do that 20 minute craft. What they don’t see is that I’m sitting on a stool with my feet up, just to make those cupcakes. What they don’t see is all the pain, fear, and insecurity behind that smile. What they don’t see is this is my therapy.
That these things are actually ordered as a part of my therapy to teach me how to be free and keep me from going into “meltdowns” or “breakdowns” or “freak outs” (I swear I’m probably on a public freak outs forum somewhere). What they don’t see is the inability to successfully complete or focus on any-one-thing and then feel like a flighty failure.
So in 2021 I’m determined to continue healing. Im determined to become ok with failure. I’m determined to become okay with not being able to do like others do. I’m determined to be a better version of me.
2021 started for me the same way most other days start; paranoid and anxious, wishing my sleep didn’t haunt me. I made it the rest of the day though…progress.
I hope to continue to share my story. I look back over the growth of my writing I’m the last year and I can see my own personal growth. Thank you for taking this journey with me. I hope to be a light, a hope, an inspiration to those around me. Please don’t read my stories and feel sorry for me. Instead read my stories, heal yourself or someone else, but most of all learn to find your strength like I am.
Happy 2021 everyone, it can only be a better year. Love, light, and laughter to you all.
If there is one thing that being a boy mom has taught it’s being loved even when you feel like you don’t deserve it. Just loved more than you can ever imagine. For me being loved was & is still hard for me sometimes.
Sometimes I mess up big. As I’m sure you do too if you have kids, a partner, or are in any kind of relationship. I tell you what though if you love your kids correctly and build them up to what they want to be, they’ll love you in a way that helps all the bad melt away.
My little loves have completely changed my life. They have given me so much. They have shown me just by their successes that I am a success and not a failure or a loser that people once made me believe. To myself I am sorry I was ever weak enough to believe their words. I’m still growing though, I have weak moments and days.
My littlest love here has given me a strength I never knew existed. His brother gives me courage and bravery and the drive to conquer all things “scary”, this love makes me stay in touch with the soft sensitive side of me; he too is soft and sensitive. He reminds me that I am just as sensitive and sweet as he is, because he gets that from me. He and his brother get so many things from me. I always believed if I showed them how to act they would—I knew I couldn’t just tell them what to do, but show them.
My oldest little love is just as sweet, but he is strong—it takes a lot to move him. He is usually the rock when there is nothing but a tornado of emotion flowing through our home. He is well adjusted and cool, calm, and collected—everything I strive to be with emotions.
What’s so strange and different to me now is that both of my little loves are working and growing and starting their lives, and I’m not exactly sure where I fit in their lives anymore. I know I’ll always be the most important woman in their lives, but I am not the priority anymore. I just sit back and wait for that day that one of them need me—although they still rely on each other way more than they’ll ever rely on me.
This youngest little love of mine decided to do a “date night” in the middle of the day Monday. It was fun being on a “date” with him. I remember when I was treating them to Mother/Son dates individually, now the tables have turned.
As I sit across from him and watch him make his decision on what to eat, what to drink, and even order on his own—I am drifted away to a place I never imagined, a place where he is sitting across the table from a young lady treating her the same way as he was treating me—a meal and quality time. Listening intently, phone down, focus on mom and how she is really doing for just a moment in our life together—I see him with her, whoever she is, who will get the honor of taking priority in his life, not taking my place, just taking priority—as she should.
I am honored and blessed to have been mom and dad. I am blessed by the example my love has set for these boys. Most of all I’m blessed to have been the mom God called me to be. I fail so much and when I do I fear I am messing them up—they remind me now that they are young men and can handle this even if it is hard—that their wives and mother of their children will be just like this some day—they are okay—I was strong and gentle when they needed me to be and they don’t need me to be anymore—just real.
My oldest little love has treated me so many times and I realized that he was so grown. Now this little love taking me on “date nights” is—a feeling I cannot describe.
Mom of boys I cannot tell you enough to love your boys the same way you love your daughters. Tell them about respecting themselves and loving themselves and show them through how you live and love—they will follow your lead more than you know—one day they will honor you and your love by not only loving you—but the love they give her.
I never really had those “overprotective” parents that some have. I’ve had more of the, “whatever” type parents. When people were groping me or hurting me in my own home they just laughed, joked, and brushed it off. That’s not protection, that’s not love, that’s not parenting.
Having that type of parents makes it so easy to see how, “strict” your friends parents are, or unfair, or whatever it may be. It’s really easy to be like, “they’re jerks” when in reality they probably weren’t, unless they were.
It’s a terrible feeling to wake up one morning and realize that you are jealous of someone or a group of people because their parents actually care enough to be protective, to be aware, to be present; suddenly realizing that is pure love that drives their parents to be “overbearing” and “overprotective”. That even when they are not using the right words or they are using the wrong tone, that these parents genuinely care, even if they are making huge hurtful mistakes; these parents are at least teaching their child they love them enough to protect them. Mine on the other hand did not.
To think I’m jealous of people who would feel that their parents hurt them in some really bad ways emotionally and mentally. Even if they caused some self-esteem issues that someone needs to rebuild for them. Even if they have to go to counseling to get over it, I am not sure it will ever be to the same level as having your mother willingly give permission to strangers and her husband to touch me and do the things they did.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be done sitting on a couch. I’m not sure I’ll ever not feel jealous of people having families. I’m not sure I’ll ever not be triggered. I’m not certain there’ll ever be day when someone not only wants to “try” to love me the rest of their life, but actually can see themselves loving me the rest of my life. I’m not sure if anyone will ever be able to be that sure about me.
The damage has been done and now I’m jealous of things that seem so normal to most. I’m jealous that I’m not the one with 100 person guest list and I have less than 25 to invite. I’m jealous that people had crappy parents that just hurt their feelings and were a little “too controlling”. I’m jealous of it all.
But as a matter of fact it’s not fair to say “jealous”, it’s more fair to say, “I’m grieving what I didn’t and don’t have,” and grief is okay. It’s okay to grieve life. And grieve that shit through every stage. The last stage means victory from it. Freedom. New life. It’s not actual jealousy being felt, it’s grief of a loss of basic human needs; nurture and love.
When I was growing up I often heard, “Kelly you better be able to find a man who can afford you”, you know I never consider myself spoiled. So why did I hear this?
I’m not exactly certain besides the fact that I love “girly” things like dresses, necklaces, fine jewelry, handbags, shoes, and so many things that sparkle. I may like those things, but I always knew that I was not in a family that could afford those privileges, so it wasn’t something I expected, just loved.
Now I am in love with this man who spoils me with all things that make me smile, my sons the same thing, and his family too. I have never owned so many designer items or just good quality items as I do now. And not really because I ask for them, but because these people get me, or are trying to make me feel like the woman I should have been made to like a long time ago.
These pretty gifts that make me feel like the girly-girl I always want to feel like, these people are have no clue what they are building in me. They are helping me build that soft, gentle exterior that allows to me, from the inside out, to grow the hardened interior that was made, into a soft, gentle, vulnerable, yet strong woman.
Simple things like beautiful handbags, cashmere scarves, head warmers, dresses, gloves, necklaces, teapots…whatever it may be, they clearly get me more than me and they are helping me be who I am. Their gifts allow me to feel free being a girl.
I love feeling pretty and I love feeling comfortable and all these pretty things make me pretty and comfortable. I am always so humbled by these gifts. I feel undeserving; unworthy. Here’s to hoping next Christmas I don’t cry about getting gifts, this year was the least bothered by gifts I’ve ever been, so it can only get better.