It’s Me Again

Hi. Remember me?  Is anybody even out there anymore? It’s been awhile. I wouldn’t blame you if you all stopped checking this blog ages ago. Heck, I stopped. But here’s the nitty gritty of where I’ve been the last two years.  I am not sharing this with you because I want sympathy or because I believe I need forgiveness, but because I have grown. I am sharing this with you because in order for me to be me and you to be my people, there needs to be vulnerability. If I have learned anything in the last five years of my life it is that having your insides gaping open (both figuratively and at times literally) in front of people, is the fastest way to form real bonds. So here it is. Me. In a nutshell.

Since I last blogged on this site, a lot has happened:

– My baby sister got married. I danced too long into the night at her wedding for a VERY pregnant with twins lady and paid for it dearly with swollen everything for weeks afterwards.

– I gave birth to twin boys in October of 2015. They are beautiful, and perfect, and a blessing, and amazing…. and they are every reason I am who I am today. This is where it stops. This is where for me, the train of life stopped moving. I’m not saying I gave up. I am saying that since I had those babies, being a mother (to them as well as my older two children) has consumed my soul. It has swallowed me up like a tasty roast beef Sunday supper. And how could it not? When faced with trials and tribulations, that’s the kind of person I am. I get in there and get my hands dirty. And more often than not my feet and my hair and probably my teeth. Now I’m not saying that I don’t love my children with all of my heart and then some. But I am saying that for the last year and a half, I have felt like outside of being a mother, I could barely breathe. My list of things I was currently handling well was non-existent.  Hell, in the beginning weeks of my new role as mother-of-four, my husband would often find me sobbing uncontrollably.  Sometimes it was over things like incessant baby wails, or the time my five and a half year old cried under the dining room table and told me I didn’t have time for him anymore.  But on more than one occasion my tears were the result of burnt dinner, or dirty jeans, or him not being in the house until 6:04pm when he clearly told me he’d be in at 6:00pm. Things were hard. Life was hard. Breathing was hard. I had wanted to be a mom since I was a young child and now here I was… four beautiful, healthy children, with SO much to be thankful for and I couldn’t. I couldn’t keep it together. I couldn’t find gratitude or strength or anything. Where in and amongst that was I Suppose to be able to find me? Let alone time for my art? But little by little, I learned to ask for help. I asked my doctor for help, and she prescribed me with something to help me feel like myself again. I asked my husband for help and he poured on the love and support.  I asked my family for help and they were there to hold me up, to lift me higher, to be the support system I was struggling to be for myself.  And now, now I finally feel like I can see the other side. I can finally forgive myself for crying on the bathroom floor and I am starting to be kinder to myself.  Because I see now, thanks to my lovely therapist, that I am strong, that I am capable, that underneath and inside of, or right beside the part of me that is a mom, there is still more to my identity than that. There is a heartbeat in there that sees beauty in the magic of everyday. There is an artist inside of me, dying to help people find the joy and the beauty and the love in their normal, everyday, benign tasks.

So here I am. I’m telling you that I am different now…but likely so are you.  It has, after all, been two years. But let’s sit down together and grow and laugh and love together.  Let’s be kind to one another.  Let’s find a way to remember the stories they way they happened and love the life we live. Let’s listen to our hearts while they still beat.

I’m so excited. I hope you are too.

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