This is the last thing that I ever wanted to do. I write one to maybe two blog posts a year and it seems to take everything that I’ve got to make it happen. It’s one of those things that I make jokes about now, especially with my husband. I am not a writer. I just talk a lot. I have falsely claimed to be something that I am not for years. It’s something that I have actively avoided. I can’t sleep at night and still the writing doesn’t happen. I’m on my phone scrolling for hours on end, planning for a life that I am never currently “present” in, as if that will somehow make it easier to cope with the fact that my dad is dead now. As if filling the house we are about to move into next month, with just the right amount of furniture and just the right extravagant luxuries to prove to myself that I have something to look forward to, is enough to keep me from boiling over and burning everything and everyone in my path. I am fully aware that it is selfish for me to say these things in the middle of what others, who are also suffering, are going through right now, but I have no censorship lately. I feel too much and I can’t hold it in and no one is safe from the crossfire. These days, it is hard to live in my skin. I look at myself in the mirror and I’m never sure what exactly I’m looking at anymore. I’m a mom. I’m a wife. I’m a daughter. I’m a friend and I don’t even know what any of it means. Most days, I feel like I was cast for a series of roles that I wanted, more than anything, but I couldn’t deliver on any of them. I never wanted this. I didn’t want to feel like a person that people could whisper about. To me they say, “I don’t know how you do it.” “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” “You are so strong.” I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to scream, but instead I just thank them. I thank them for the compliment that doesn’t match up to who I really am. 

I think back to when I lived in Rome for one college semester. I had five roommates who were all present at the time, in a small L shaped apartment, when I accidentally almost blinded myself with a disinfecting eye solution for contact lenses. There was a specific container the contacts had to go into with a solution made up of hydrogen peroxide for about six hours before it neutralized and I could safely place them back on. I didn’t read the fine print. I used a random contact case and that morning when I went to go put them back in, they latched and burned into my eyes so intensely that I could feel the pain reaching to the back of my skull. The one and only bathroom with a sink was down the hall and around the corner. Everyone else was still in their bedrooms at the time or in the kitchen and I never made a sound as I ran into almost every wall including a drying rack that was placed just outside of the bathroom door. I scratched desperately and as carefully as I could to remove them from my eyes. I flushed them under water for what seemed like an hour and they were so swollen that I inevitably had to share the story over and over again with anyone that I ran into for several days after. 

 I didn’t scream. I didn’t say anything. It was one of the most physically painful things that I have ever experienced (before childbirth) and I silenced myself. I deprived myself the opportunity of being human. I kept quiet and for whose benefit I will never know. I would like to tell you that this was a one-time occurrence, but it wasn’t. It’s been something that has been ongoing in my life for so long that it’s become second nature for me to suffer alone in silence. I’m wise enough to know that this is not the right way to process things or move on. It’s not a good habit to have because how can you be helped if no one hears you. How do you tell the world you live in that looks at you with compassion and admiration, that you don’t know how you’re doing it, you just know that you aren’t, that you don’t need their imagination because you just need their time? How do you explain that your biggest strength is also your biggest heartbreak? Because you’re not strong. You’re just quiet. 

When you get more than you could have ever imagined you expect to be happy.
I used to dream about the life that I have now. When I was a lot younger, I used to wonder what the person meant for me was doing in that exact moment. Was he happy? Alone? Maybe, wondering about me too?

I grew up believing in the power of love, despite not being raised around it. It was something very foreign and intangible to me for several years, but I desperately wanted it. I looked for it everywhere and in many of the wrong people, family members, friends, and lovers. I had a lot of losses and after a while “love” started to become something that was childish, dishonest, and simply not in the cards for me. I had come to terms with the way I would be spending the rest of my life, on my own, filling it with travel, and music, and dogs. There would be a lot of dogs in and out of my house. I knew I could still have a home and create a space exactly how I wanted it. It could be enough. It had to be.

Life had other plans. It brought me someone who had been in the background of my life for a while and that person found the simplest of ways to help me put my guard down. Love had never been so natural, and steady, and painless. It had never felt like a choice and this choice was one I was so glad that I was making. I found myself becoming best friends with this person, before realizing that I could love him forever if I wanted to. His path was leading him in a direction that would create a stability for his future and the future we could have together, but things had to drastically change. I had never felt that safe walking into the unknown with someone that I knew that I could trust with everything that I had. At the time, leaving the home that I had always known wasn’t hard. Even after learning that I was pregnant. I had never planned on staying. There were things and memories that I was more than eager to leave behind and I was finally going to be happy now. I was supposed to be happy now, but without the pieces of my heart that I had left behind with the friends and family I had grown to love and need so much over the years, my transition into this dream life stopped feeling natural, and steady, and painless or feeling like it was even what I wanted. I suddenly closed myself off. I built a wall between the rest of the world and myself, my son, and I forgot to include my person on the side that we were on. Instead, I blamed him for all the things I was giving up and all the ways I was giving up on myself, us, and our marriage. Fighting became the natural order of things. I became the voice that I had resented so many years growing up and it always left me feeling more alone. I was supposed to be happy, but instead I became compulsive and anxious and incapable of sitting still, of being held, and of accepting my person’s love.

If he ever reads this, he will say that there were a lot of things he could have done to stop everything from getting this far and in some ways, he wouldn’t be wrong about that, but truthfully, he would mostly be wrong. If there is anything I have learned in the last decade of my life, it’s that there are several things out of your control, no matter how you feel about them, but your own decisions, your choice to love or walk away, your choice to forgive or to hold on to all that pain, and your choice to live is not one of them. You have control. You choose every day.

I spent a lot of the last two years and specifically 2019 choosing wrong. I have been self-sabotaging my life in ways that I was sure would never be a problem because I had gained more than I could ever imagine. I was supposed to be happy now, so nothing could ever really go wrong or pull me into a dark place again, right??

I think back to all of the years that I grew up seeing my mother live unhappily. I used to wonder why she was still holding on to so many of the things in her past that had nothing to do with her present. I knew she had survived a lot of things that many wouldn’t have. I knew that she was still in pain, but she was supposed to be happy now. She was my mother now. What else could she possibly need? I remember feeling like there were probably several things that I could have done, but the truth is that there wasn’t, because her happiness was never up to me. I understand things better now. I understand her. I have my own child now. He is the biggest dream that I have ever had in my life and I get to wake up to his little body on top of mine with his arms wrapped around my neck, his cheek on my face, his way of telling me to get out of bed. I get to see him grow up and help him become whoever he is meant to be in this world.

From the moment he was born, he ripped my heart wide open and has given me more purpose than any “epic love story,” career, or success could have ever given me. This is the dream and I’m supposed to be happy now, but I forgot that it was a choice. Life changed and things happened and there were several things that I could have done to make things better, but I didn’t. I expected happiness to automatically make an appearance and to stay on its own. When it didn’t stay and love started to become a stranger again, I didn’t try to stop it. I let my darkness consume me. I let myself get sad and then I got angry and I forgot my vows.

To tell you that I’m completely okay now and that I’ve moved on from all of this, would not be honest. In fact, I have not felt okay, for quite some time, but I am thankful to be alive. Today, I feel hope. I have real love in my life and I have my son and I am so lucky to have people to miss this much. To be happy is to choose to be happy even when things are not wrapped and shaped the way that I wanted. I have to work at it, to wake up and move, to count my blessings, and to remember that love can be the most powerful thing if you don’t give up on it.

I’m 29 today.
When I turned 21 it felt like a time in my life that would last forever. I’ve been going through the last couple years in a daze. I’ve been confused about my age or what it is that I’m supposed to be doing right now other than taking care of my son. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve checked in with my husband to make sure I had my age down right on paper. Today is bittersweet because I do not feel like I’m 29, but when I look in the mirror, I see how tired I am and when I look at my son, I see how fast time is going by and how I feel like it’s leaving me behind. I pictured a certain type of wisdom at 29 and it’s not that I haven’t learned a lot, but there are still so many questions and this restlessness deep inside. I still have all these skeletons in my past that keep me up at night because at some point I got tired of running and now I don’t remember it all like I used to. I have scars that I cannot explain, some that are visible on my body and it’s hard to connect to the mind that stood by and allowed all of what was to happen. I still don’t feel the calm. I look at my husband and I see it in his eyes. It is an effortless choice to him and he chose right. Meanwhile, my hands are still cracked and falling apart. It’s getting harder not to scratch that itch. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t feel like I’m 29 because I am nowhere near ready to take on my 30s. I’m still stuck somewhere in between 23 and 26, when I thought I knew what my life had planned, when I had things that I could list on my hands that made me more of a grown up, but I still felt like I had time to make a few mistakes in between. Now my plans feel like dreams and mistakes seem like the end of the world to me because I don’t just live for myself now. There is a person that I want to become by the time Jude can use his mind to form an opinion of me. There’s a person that I want to become that I needed when I was younger and sometimes, I swear that she’s there underneath all the layers of tired, busy, and the I don’t have time for that because there never is enough time. I feel sad that most days I haven’t figured out a way to live in the present. I feel responsible for the time that has blessed me with so many wonderful memories and the time I haven’t spent saying thank you. I live in a world of opportunities and chances even when I have actively chosen to not walk through the door and stood still.
I don’t feel 29 today, but maybe that is the point. Maybe things are still hard and confusing because that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe not feeling ready is the same as having something worth living for. It means I’m not done yet and I still have an unfinished journey. There’s still time even when it’s fast and I am so thankful for everyone who has been a part of it.

 

“Let It Be Enough”

I don’t remember where I first saw these words posted a few months back, but they have stayed with me ever since. At first, I wondered, let what be enough? What is the it?

And over the last few weeks, I think I have just begun to finally realize that the IT could be, should be applied to EVERYTHING.

I have spent so much of my adult life “trying to get my shit together.” As far as I’ve come, as blessed as I know that I am, there has been a constant nagging voice in my head of, “Do better,” and a surplus of moments where I have felt that things in my life just aren’t good enough yet. I have inwardly criticized my role as a wife, mother, daughter, friend, and even as a person. It’s happened more times than I would like to admit.

When I saw these words, they hit me in the back of the head like a ton of bricks, but I wasn’t sure why. In the busy and chaotic life of being a new mother, when something catches my attention like this, I know that it’s worth thinking about. After really letting it sink in, especially in this last month that I’ve been back in Chicago and have gotten some much needed rest and help from my mother with my son, I’ve started to feel some long-time needed relief.

I’ve always felt like life was so incredibly noisy and if I stopped just for a second to listen, I’d hear some of the things that had been weighing me down and holding me back the most. For me, it’s always been things like, “If you don’t try, you can’t really fail.”

“You’ve messed up and there’s nothing you can do but feel bad about it.”

“You always do this, what’s wrong with you?”

And then there’s my favorite…

“You are not enough.”

Undoubtedly, my self conscious and not life has been whispering these things into my mind for years when I least needed to hear them. I have never stopped fighting against them. I have kept trying. I have kept moving forward, but always with a certain air of disappointment and never without a slight expectation that I will surely fail.

Never have I been told, let it be enough. Whenever I think about these words now, I start to become overwhelmed with emotion because it’s just so simple. It’s just you and the power you have, to give yourself permission to let whoever and whatever it is that you are, that you’ve done, and you are doing BE ENOUGH.

It’s not settling. It’s not about having goals and giving up on them. It’s forgiveness, acceptance, and self-love and all of the things that I have probably been worst at.

 

So here it is…

Let it be enough that I am 27 years old, currently living in a state that I am not quite fond of, married to man I mostly feel that I do not deserve, with a 10-month-old son that has entirely taken over my heart, my soul, and my right mind.

Let it be enough that I am a stay at home mom and that I’m not quite good at it yet. I get stir crazy and bored. I feel unproductive, impatient, and I hate admitting that I miss being around my people back home. I take it out on my husband sometimes and I am constantly trying to understand why it can be so easy to hurt the feelings of the people that you care about the most.

Let it be enough that I had good grades in high school, that I went to college for something that I loved and failed at accomplishing anything other than a degree. Writing meant too much to me and I was afraid to disappoint. I did not hold on to my dreams. I did not put in the work. Instead, I put the essence of myself in a box somewhere and have tried to pretend like it’s never bothered me. I am finding ways, like this, to pursue and not give up on my dreams this time.

Let it be enough that I am 27 years old and that I have years from my past that I have still allowed to hurt me in some way because I tend to be the worst at letting bad things go. I have sought help. I have not been above going to therapy. I have no regrets for the lessons that I have learned, but some things just lit a fire in me that will not die. Some things have taken root and make me who I am. They are part of the reason that I am still alive and I’m grateful for that, no matter how many bad days there are. Trust me.

Let it be enough that Jude will never have the perfect mom, but that he will never have to question that I love him, that I care about him, or that I will always be there for him no matter what he does or decides or wherever life takes him.

Let it be enough that I love my husband so much even when he doesn’t know it, even when in silence, even when I’m angry, or I’m rolling my eyes at his affection. I am not always kind or right. I am not fair, but to him it has never been about winning and because of that I have found the greatest love of all to spend my life with.

Let it be enough that I did not come from a perfect household or a wholesome family, but that their choices have helped push me for much more in my life. It taught me not to settle for anything that wasn’t real love. My mother taught me to be stronger than I ever thought I could be. I know what hard work is because of my father. I know what sacrifice means because of them. I learned gratitude and humility. I gained perseverance and I could never give up on anything even if I wanted to. I am resilient. I am Mexican and I am more than proud to come from a long history of those who have worked and fought so hard to give the opportunity of a better life for their family and their children.

Let it be enough that I don’t go to church and I haven’t baptized my son yet, but my faith and trust in God is the reason that my spirit has never been broken. I don’t need to be affiliated with anything for Him to be in my heart and close to my life.

Let it be enough that sometimes I really don’t feel like I am enough, but I’ve been blessed with people, so many people who constantly make me feel like I am and worthy of so much love. These people are my family and because of them I am a better person. I am strong, beautiful, smart, loving, caring, deserving, and more than enough. Their existence has brought my life so much happiness.

Let it be enough that there is NO ONE in this planet who will ever be like me or like you. You and I are special. We all have our flaws, our regrets, our own personal pain, but because of it we are stronger then we will ever know.

 

 

Let it be enough.

Life does not care how long you’ve been married or the time it took you both to get to the I do’s. It doesn’t care where or when you first  met. It does not concern itself with the plans you might have had for what your first year of marriage was supposed to look like. Tim and I went through a lot our first year as a couple and our first year of marriage was no different. We became parents before we really had a sense of what it felt like to be newly weds. We moved several states away from the familiar and pretty much started our lives not knowing how things would work. The only thing we really had was faith in each other and what we could create together. We also had certain expectations.

My husband wanted a wife who would love him through everything and help keep him motivated. Someone who was patient and kind. I wanted a husband who I could depend on. Someone who took initiative and was always there for me. I will be the first to say that I am not a very patient person and some days, I am really not that kind. I am being pretty open and honest about this because I believe that the first year of marriage (really any year of marriage) can sometimes lead to disappointments, especially if you go into it with a “this is how it should be” mentality. Tim is always there for me, but sometimes (most of the time) I have to voice what I want. He takes action after I’ve spoken (yelled) and this can frustrate me to no end.

We celebrated our first wedding anniversary a couple weeks ago and even on our special day things did not go as planned. There was stress and a few arguments. There was disappointment, but also and most importantly, there was forgiveness. I am not an expert on anything. It’s been one full year of marriage and all I can offer is my insight and share my experiences.

 

So for better or for worse, here they are:

You’re going to have fights and that doesn’t mean that the relationship is bad.

You or your partner will get angry. Sometimes depending on the level of anger, you or they will say and do things to be mean or to hurt because they are hurting. It’s not right, but we are human. We’ve all been there. I can’t imagine any relationship that has survived without a fight or a disagreement.

Fighting doesn’t have to mean that there’s something seriously wrong with the relationship, but there can be something seriously wrong in the way that you are communicating (or not communicating) with one another. I know how many times I used to question this in relationships.

Is something wrong? Why do we do this if we love each other?

This can’t be right. It shouldn’t be like this. Why does it happen so much?

I still can’t answer all of these, but fighting is not and should not be the end all. I think miscommunication and misunderstanding is what leads us into a lot of these unhappy conversations. I’m not saying that fighting is healthy, but it isn’t something that should be avoided or that can’t be worked on.

Of course there are always limitations. It should never be physical, but it can be emotionally harmful. Both partners need to talk about that and if the trust and love is there; with help, effort, and change on both sides, things will get better. Fighting can turn into healthier arguments that don’t linger or weigh in the heart.

The most important lesson I learned in fighting with any partner that I’ve ever had is to not to fight to be right or to win because both of you will lose and during a fight it is always you and your partner against the problem, not against each other.

 

Forgive even when you don’t feel like it.

Holy crap is this one is ridiculously hard sometimes. This can seem like the craziest and even most impossible task in certain situations. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been upset with my husband over a new thing or an old thing (especially if it’s an old thing that keeps repeating itself.) The reality of forgiving someone when they have incessantly pissed you off over the same old thing is almost comical. It really is, but somehow you do it anyway. It truly is something that you can decide and have the ability within yourself to do.

Forgiveness is a very powerful thing and when it happens, it doesn’t just help the other person or the relationship, it helps you. By forgiving someone even when you don’t feel like it, you take back control of your emotions. It’s never easy, but you get to decide what you can and can’t let go of. Not only that, but it’s good for your soul. It helps heal you. When you hold on to so much pain, anger, and resentment, it’s always going to cause you more damage especially because you have to live with it inside of you.

Forgiveness is like a statement to this person, to yourself, and to the world that you aren’t going to let this one thing define what happens next, what lingers in your life, and what stays in your heart. Sometimes its all the little and small things that break up a relationship. Don’t let it. Breathe. forgive. Move on.

 

Accept the changes because they will come.

I am not the exact same person that I was five years ago, not two years ago, not even before having my son, but I’m still me. I think people do keep changing (even in smallest ways) and evolve naturally. People can and do change. They don’t always in the way that you want, but it happens.  My husband would probably be one of the first to confirm this.

Sometimes he talks about how I used to be. He remembers getting more attention and affection from me. I used to be closer to him physically and emotionally. These might seem like warning signs to anyone who is in any kind of relationship and you wouldn’t be wrong, but sometimes it’s not entirely what it seems.

The truth is that I’m exhausted. I haven’t felt much peace since we moved to Florida. It’s been a hard and stressful journey. I didn’t quite find a home in this place and I miss my friends and my family. I’m also a new mom and motherhood has completely taken over everything. I live, breathe, and think about my son all day long. Sometimes hours will go by before I’ve even have a real thought about anything else. Any mother will know what I mean and how easily it is to get lost in the mix of it all. Being a parent is incredible, amazing, and a privilege. It’s also the hardest responsibility that you will ever have.

I regret nothing. I give my entire self to my son every day, even when I don’t feel 100%, and most days I really don’t. My husband knows this and even though he misses me, he’s still there for me. He accepts me for the person I’ve changed into. It doesn’t mean that things between us don’t need care and attention. We both know that they do, but for now we are both doing the best we can.

We both remember who we fell in love with. We are still those people and as things continue to change and evolve, we will take the necessary steps to take them on together.

 

Choose to love every single day.

I’m a part of a few Facebook groups, primarily the ones that consist of military spouses, and “falling out of love,” is unfortunately a topic that appears very frequently. Although it’s not just in military marriages, this is where I’ve seen it talked about the most. Mostly women reach out  to one another and ask what they should do in these situations. They aren’t in love anymore. They love their partner and they care, but that’s it. Is that enough to stay?

Again, that is a question I cannot answer for anyone. Every single person has their own version of enough. I know that I’ve sat up at night wondering how Tim has the capacity to love me as much as he does. I’ve jokingly asked him if he loves me less now that he’s seen the full extent of my flaws. He doesn’t hesitate to say no, but that’s the kind of man that he is. He sees past the hard things and chooses to love me. That man has loved me through the best and worst experiences in our relationship/marriage.

We are very honest with each other. Sometimes I am too honest with him about how I am feeling, even when it’s about us. Where others would yell, probably tell me to go kick rocks, and leave me for someone more “grounded,” my husband actually listens and tries to help me put my feet back on the ground. Even when the truth hurts him, he wants to know it so we can make it better together. He’s truly a very hard person to not love.

As for me, I choose to love him for everything he’s done right and not a couple things he’s done wrong. I think ultimately that’s what keeps love going and growing. No one said it would be easy, but it’s worth it. Or so I’ve heard. 😉

 

Stop thinking that “it’s supposed to be like this.”

I used to think I knew exactly what love was supposed to look like. I had seen it in movies and read about it in books. I knew that sometimes it could be exaggerated, but for the most part I believed that when it came I would recognize it. It turned out that I didn’t recognize it twice.

The first time that I was really in love, it was with someone who was not my type and who had a very different idea from mine, of what he wanted his future to look like. He was charming, challenging, controlling, and selfish. It was an epic love story about two people that were so wrong for each other, forcing it to try to make it right. It was devastating and heartbreaking. It lasted far too long, but it taught me many things about myself and about the kind of relationship that I really wanted. I made my biggest mistakes with my first love and for a long time, I didn’t see how life would give me another chance.

My second love was just as unexpected as the first. He was in the background of my life for a while. It wasn’t something that was planned or manipulated. I went away for a long trip with my mom and when I came back he decided to take the steps to fully place himself into my life. I was confused and surprised, but more open then I had ever been. In several situations, the timing was almost never right for me, but somehow it suddenly became right for us. Our love was effortless and calm. It was safe and gentle. It was an experience that grounded me and brought out my best self. He was patient, kind, and unbelievably selfless. He mended so many parts of my heart and still does things that heal me in ways I couldn’t even begin to explain. He was and continues to be my best friend. He became the real love of my life, the last love of my life, my husband, and the father to the best thing I’ve ever done in this world.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

But it was better. So much better then I could have ever imagined.

 

Be there for another. In any way you can.

This one can also be hard when you think that something’s not as important as it seems to be for your partner. There are things that sometimes my husband keeps going over and over in his mind, that happen to be one of the few things that don’t keep me up at night. He worries and I wonder why, when it’s not that big of a deal in comparison to everything else going on.

It’s a difficult pill to swallow, but I’m learning that it’s not up to me to decide what is important and what is not, in his life. He has the right to his concerns, his feelings, and my job as his wife is to be there for him in any way that I can be. I might not always have the most positive feedback or the immediate reaction he might be hoping for, but I can listen. I don’t have to agree, but I can validate and be by his side through whatever he’s going through. He has done it for me several times without question.

 

Support each other’s dreams, but don’t forget about your own.

It’s quite simple. You don’t lose your dreams after marriage. I think you can put them to the side, make a very gut- wrenching choice to drop them completely, but you don’t forget them. Underneath the surface of who you are as a wife, husband, mother, and a father, they are always there.

Sometimes life and certain situations don’t give you the opportunity to accomplish those dreams or goals you have, but you can choose to go look for them yourself. I undoubtedly believe that you need a partner who supports you in this.

Now, more then ever, I understand that it’s not just a partner, but circumstance that may or may not allow you to drop everything and shoot for the stars. I’m a mother and a stay-at-home mom for that (God help me.) There are days when I think about the plans I had to go back to school for my Masters, to go after the type of career I wanted, even to write and it seems like I just can’t do it at all right now.

Right now, I can’t go back to school or focus on my career. There are things that would have to be in place for this to happen. There are difficult choices, Tim and I would both have to make for it to even begin to be possible. More then likely, I would have to move back to Chicago with my son to finish school, so that my parents could help me take care of him. Tim would have to spend a lot time without us. I would need the same to happen to go back to work or wait until Jude was old enough to feel comfortable with other means of childcare. Ultimately, I would also have to be away from my son during most of the day. Tim wants to go to school. He has dreams of a career in IT. He has such a strong  passion for it, but he struggles to balance it into the daily life of work and parenting. We also have finances and some debt to consider.

We have a lot to think about and a lot to decide, but these are just some of the dreams that aren’t going to be dropped anytime soon, even though they have been pushed to the side this year. It would be foolish for us to stand in each other’s way and not do what’s possible to help each other accomplish our goals. It would be selfish for only one of us to be allowed to fulfill our dreams and succeed. It would also be a disservice to our son. We would be giving up huge pieces of ourselves that make us who we are. We would let disappointment and bitterness come into our lives in a way that I’ve seen or have heard happen in so many marriages, affecting so many families, and their children.

Our son comes first, but our dreams shouldn’t be completely forgotten. I believe they can be achieved little by little. Support from family and a partner can make even a lot more of what seems impossible, possible. We are going to be the biggest influences in our son’s life and we want him to learn to never give up on himself, even when life changes or seems to get in the way. With faith, love, and support there will always be a way to keep shooting for the stars.

 

Lastly, have faith.

 I’ve been married for a couple of weeks over a year now. I’ve been in a relationship with my husband two months short of two years. We’ve covered a lot of ground in our marriage and as new parents, but we know we have just scratched the surface of what’s to come. I am not an expert in what makes a marriage succeed. I even have a history of breaking things apart in past relationships. I did not grow up watching a loving or supportive marriage unfold. In truth, I am not the image of even a close to perfect wife or mother, but maybe that’s the point.

 Tim and I are not perfect. We don’t always have it together. We don’t always do things right. We argue. We get frustrated and angry. We yell (I yell.) We let each other down, but then we pick each other back up again. We forgive and move on. We don’t fight to make it worse, but we argue to make it better. He might need me to tell him what to do 95% of the time, but I never had to show him how to love me or how to be there for me. I don’t need to ask for him to care or to put me or my son first. I didn’t have to show him how to be a good person, a great father, and a great husband. That is just who is he and who I fell in love with and choose to love everyday. He might not always get the patient or the kind version of me, but he knows that I try my best to understand where he’s coming from and what he’s going through. I am not above apologizing when I mess up or when I say something I know that I shouldn’t have. That’s the thing about marriage. That’s the thing about us. You don’t get to control any part of it, but you can continue to grow into something incredible as a team, together. Things will probably not go exactly as expected, but if you keep the faith and keep working together, you’ll create something wonderful, something worth fighting for and holding on to.

Life does not care to ever give you a break, but love does and the hope that we carry in our hearts and our minds will make anything in this world possible.

 

“Forgive yourself for not knowing what you didn’t know until you lived through it. Honor your path. Trust your journey. Learn, grow, evolve, become.”- Creig Crippen

 

I once told someone that I was the kind of person who didn’t really do things that scared me. When this person asked me what I was most afraid of, a lot of different things came to mind, but the word failure is what came out of my mouth. I remember being embarrassed after I said it. I tried to shake it off as something unimportant, something that didn’t hinder me in any way. It was an insignificant, universal fear. The truth is that I have passed up on a lot of things in my life because of that fear. I shied away from opportunities. I was not a go-getter. I stayed in the shadows. I gave a lot of things up. I did not walk through several doors. Many times, I didn’t even knock.

In my first blog post, I talked about what I went to college for. I wanted to pursue something that had lit a spark in me during high school. I took a Creative Writing class my sophomore year with a variety of people who would have never spent time in the same room unless they had to. I felt like another person back then. I was trying to be so many different things for different people that had suddenly come into my life. I hadn’t known real friendship growing up and I was afraid that being my weird, true self would drive others away. I felt like a lost girl with no real identity or voice. I was so busy studying others, trying to find a place to fit it, and saying what I thought others wanted to hear to keep them around.

When I started writing in that class, I felt so much coming up to the surface. It was a mixture of ideas, fantasies, dreams, and deep feelings that I hadn’t expressed to anyone before. To me, it was like stepping out of a hot building and taking a breath of cool, fresh air for the first time, in a long time. In that class, I could write myself on paper. I could write my truths or hide them in stories.

Sometimes in that class, we even shared our writing out loud and I’m telling you, there wasn’t one person in that room that didn’t have something remarkable to say. It was a safe place for all of us, I think. I still remember the comments my teacher wrote on my assignments. She left words of encouragement. I still remember what it felt like when she pulled me to the side after class once and said you know, this could really be something for you. You’re a writer. So much time I had spent trying to figure out who I was, what I was good at, if anything. I had never had anybody believe in me like that before, with so little effort. Her statement, “You’re a writer,” lingered over me like a dream that I didn’t want to wake up from.

I decided to go to college for writing, instead of something else because I wanted to learn from people who had chosen to make their passion for writing their life. For me, it wasn’t about the success or the money. Those things have never really driven me. I just wanted to keep being myself, to express my thoughts, my feelings, experiences, and have it mean something to somebody.

This type of  work and lifestyle connects you to others like so many of the other Arts. You hear that song, see that movie, look at that photograph, painting, read that quote, finish that book, and you are left with something. Whether you realize it or not, we are all connected by the things that give us hope, inspire, strengthen, or sometimes make us feel really vulnerable or sad. All of those things can help us feel like we are in this life together.

Unfortunately, when I started college, I quickly forgot about all that. I was nervous and was so taken aback by the other writers. I took their unfathomable talent and skill, what made each of them unique and special, and found a way to turn it all into my flaw. I became insecure and I started struggling to find the words to write about anything. Suddenly, I was lost again. I didn’t know where my voice had gone and I was too afraid to find it. Writing was too important to me and I didn’t want to fail so I quietly started to give up. I had some decent writing during those years, but rarely did I ever share it. I never submitted any writing to anywhere.  I spent hours and days, working at accomplishing the minimum of  pages that were required. Writing started to feel like a burden, like someone else’s life, and I was just pretending to live in it.

I graduated and felt a huge sense of relief. I didn’t HAVE to do this anymore. The thing that I had loved so much, that made me feel the most connected, the most free and inspired, was no longer there. My light burnt out and I made my dream become so small so I could put it in a box and I leave it in the pile of why bother?

Sometimes, I think that’s how depression can happen. I think that we lose ourselves when we lose grasp on the thing that makes us who we are, that makes us special, and different. We lose purpose, direction, and hope. We start to settle and give in to our “failures.” We let the voice that says. “You are not good enough,” win. That voice affects everything. It becomes a part of every decision we make or thing we don’t do because why? How could it ever be me that accomplishes this? That finishes this? That creates this on their own? That makes a difference in any way?

That voice had been in my head for a very long time. It found a home in my mind and to be honest it has never quite left me. Instead, it also became a part of who I am. But the thing is, when I completely stopped doing the thing that I loved, I stopped being me. Areas in other parts of my life started failing, even relationships. I lost faith and my sense of self. Once again, I started trying to make myself different things for different people. I stifled my voice and even when that innovative spark finally did hit me again, I did nothing. I let it slip through my fingers several times.

Today, once again, my life is very different. It changed. I changed, but my dreams and desires never did. I realized that I was wrong in thinking that I wasn’t meant for something, just because I was afraid and running from it.

We all have something that is ours. Sometimes we are born into it or it comes up later in life. It can be the hardiest or the easiest thing to find. It can inspire or scare us sometimes. Especially because we might fail at it.

But how can it be failure if and when you’re still trying?

How can we let fear of failure lead us into living our lives as someone we are not?

How can we end up doing something we aren’t supposed to be doing?

Is it ever too late?

We have one life.

Why would we ever give up until it’s really over in the end?

It took me a long while to get here. It took the encouragement and faith of others to not just inspire, but to help make me become a bit brave again. It took self talk and tears. It took the newfound fear of living a half life.

I’m in the beginning of a journey that I have barely just begun and I have so much further to go. I’m still afraid of failing, but I AM a writer. For better or for worse, I won’t stop trying.

 

“How many of us stop short of success on purpose? How many of us sabotage our own happiness because failure, while miserable, is a fear we’re familiar with? Success, however, dreams come true, are a whole new kind of terrifying, an entire new species of responsibilities and disillusions, requiring a new way to think, act and become. Why do we REALLY quit? Because it’s hopeless? Or because it’s possible…”

-Jennifer DeLucy

 

 

Jude,

You are too young to write me a Mother’s Day card, so I decided that I wanted to write you a letter instead.

I wake up every day knowing that you will be there and that I get to be there for all of your special moments. When I look at you, it’s an instant rush of emotions. It’s a kind of love that I can’t even begin to describe, but it’s the deepest love that I have ever felt. I knew that when you finally arrived, my life would change forever. What I didn’t realize is how much you would change me. I used to sit up at night, thinking about my life and what I was going to make of it. I wanted to make a difference. I just didn’t know how that would happen. Life had not turned out the way that I thought it would… But I discovered who I was meant to be in the exact moment that I held you in my arms for the first time. All of my decisions in life led me to you. I wouldn’t change one thing, but if only to slow down time. I can’t get enough of you growing up, but it’s happening way too fast. I don’t want to forget a single second of it. I want you to know that no matter where life takes us, no matter where our home is at the time, my home and my heart is completely with you. You have given me so much to be grateful for and I will never stop trying to find ways to make you happy. Thank you for being you and for being my son.

Love,
Mommy

In my last post, I mentioned that one of the things that I learned in the last 7 months was that it’s important to embrace your post pregnancy body, but to not let it be your excuse. I decided that I wanted to share my ongoing fitness journey with others.

I’ll start out by saying that I am not an expert in anything. I can suggest things, tell you what I’ve tried, and what I feel has worked. Personally, I don’t follow any set diet or workout plan. Doing strictly anything always messes me up. My method is trying things out, switching things up, and making things work to fit my lifestyle. It’s amazing because I typically excel in never finishing what I start and falling off the wagon. I have been great at quitting in the past. So what changed?

I got married. I had a baby. I quit my job, and I moved to a different state… So honestly, some things got harder, other things got easier, and I just ran out of excuses. I always had all these reasons I could come up with to put things off. I’m tired, I have no time, I have too much to do, I’m sick, I will start tomorrow, next week, next month, next year… It’s like I couldn’t commit to anything. I didn’t want to be held accountable, but I still wanted the freedom to complain about it. I wasn’t happy with myself because I knew that I really wasn’t even trying. I knew I would feel better if I simply put in the effort and made a decision to make my health and wellness a priority.

So here’s a quick overview of what I have found that works for me and the majority of it doesn’t include a diet or a meal plan:

I stopped comparing my progress to someone else’s.

Sometimes a person’s fitness journey and progress can be really inspirational and encouraging. It might be just what you’ve been waiting for to kick start your desire and motivation. It could be exactly what you needed to start believing in yourself. But along the way, your journey and your progress might be different. I say this because I can’t tell you how many before and afters I have seen that have made me question how I was doing things wrong or why don’t I look like that yet. Why is my progress not as impressive? What I’m trying to get at, is that everyone’s body is different and sometimes there are certain things in play that can help or slow down your evolution. It doesn’t mean that you’re failing or doing things wrong. Your body is your own and it’s going to show progress at its own pace. So when I see someone else’s progress, I think that it’s amazing and I celebrate them, but I don’t compare because I should be proud of my own accomplishments without feeling like the effort I am giving isn’t enough. This leads me into my next bullet point.

 

I take several pictures to keep track of my improvements and to use it as motivation.

I take a ton of selfies. I don’t share several of them because they are mostly just for my own eyes. Usually, I take at least one picture during my workout and some in the mornings. Then, I’ll look at them all later and make note of the changes or non-changes that I’m seeing. I compare my week to week and month to month and I make sure I acknowledge every little bit of progress I made and use it to keep going or to work harder. I am probably the least patient person that I know and I itch to see more results. It can be a bit discouraging when you expect to see something exceed what you’ve been visually seeing, but the best things in life take time. Somebody smarter than me once told me that. My progress as much or as little as it has been from week to week, still keeps me moving forward. Even when you can’t see it, your body is getting stronger and it’s going to keep helping you work to meet your goals.

 

I don’t over analyze the gym or my cheat meal/cheat snacks.

I know when I have gym days. I usually take 1-3 days off and make a commitment to at least three gym days a week, no matter what. I can tell you that I have stuck to my routine since the end of January for this long without giving it up because I am not so strict or hard on myself anymore. I used to guilt myself so badly when I decided to skip a  gym day (for whatever reason)  and then one day of putting it off would lead into another and so on. In my mind, since I had already “messed up” my schedule for the week, why even bother? Not very logical right?

I don’t do any of that anymore. I also don’t think about working out for very long. I just put on my clothes, gym shoes, get in the car, and drive there. If I dwell on it and think about how much I would rather stay on the couch to keep watching my long list of TV shows (which is all the time,) I won’t go and I will start to fall into bad habits again. When this does happen though, I do my best to shake it off and go the next day or workout a bit harder when I do go to make up for my laziness/procrastination. Also, by setting my very realistic goal of three workout days a week, I am able to stay on the wagon and remain consistent. The main goal is to always go back.

If you don’t have a cheat meal at least once a week, you are the strongest person I know. I would fly off the handle, so fast, if I couldn’t occasionally eat what I wanted to. I’d love to tell you that it’s only one meal a week, but it’s usually not. Sometimes there are treats in between. If I want something really badly, I let myself have it (not binge, portion control,) and then I make more of a push with cardio that day or the next time I’m at the gym. I let myself have the freedom to eat from what I want, but I keep in mind the calorie intake and decide if it is worth it to me. Sometimes it is and I don’t find myself obsessing over the one thing that I “shouldn’t” have and other times I decide to save my cheat snack or cheat meal for something else or something better. One day won’t undue days, weeks, or months of work, but unfortunately days of bad food decisions can/will. It’s not fair, but that is how it goes. Nevertheless, don’t deny yourself of a little something that can keep you from unraveling until the next cheat meal/snack. If you have better discipline then I do and it doesn’t trouble you, major kudos and carry on.

 

One size doesn’t fit all and that’s absolutely fine!

My body is a combination of things that doesn’t always reflect the size that it needs. Some clothes just don’t fit right, even when it’s my size.  Some smaller and larger sizes can sometimes shock me when they do fit and other times my size is simply not available. If a piece of clothing doesn’t work out, it just means that it wasn’t meant for me (which also helps me save money), but there will be other things that are. So I buy what fits my body shape the best and what makes me feel comfortable. When something that I was really looking forward to trying on doesn’t, I always try to immediately take it off without giving it another thought. Your size doesn’t tell people everything that they need to know about you, but how you choose to wear what fits you, can say a lot. What I am trying to say is that you shouldn’t hide or hate or let the idea of the “right size” or the “right look” hurt you. Be your own person and express yourself in a way that makes you feel good.

 

I found a fitness routine and diet plan that works for me.

If you’ve been waiting to find out what it is that I actually do in my routine/meal prep, I’m sorry. It’s really not that impressive. Like I said before, I am not an expert. Consistency and commitment in whatever you choose to do (in my opinion) is the main thing that matters. But, here is my alleged fitness routine and diet plan:

When I first started working out again, post pregnancy, I used a workout plan given to me by a friend. If you are interested, send me a message and I’ll email you the PDF. It is mostly focused on heavier weights and strength training. It recommends a warm up and some cardio, but mostly leaves you to decide how much or how little you want to incorporate into your workouts. In the beginning, I was doing thirty minutes of cardio (stair master, spin bike, or treadmill on incline) and then following this workout plan every week. Essentially it was divided up by abs/core, arms and shoulders, and legs/calves/glutes. It was challenging and I really enjoyed the workout, but after a few weeks I started dreading the cardio portion. I am truly not a big fan of it and so I decided to cut it down to ten minutes before my strength training/weight lifting workouts and focused on what I was actually looking forward to working on in the gym. Then I heard of an app called BodyLove by a very popular certified trainer that I follow on Instagram, Anna Victoria, and I decided to download it. It’s not free, but very reasonably priced if you plan to use it. She has some ebooks on gym and at home workouts, as well as a meal plan that I had also purchased in the past (all great, highly recommend), but the app was a game changer for me. It shows the workout as you’re doing it, times you and your 30-60 second rest. It divides the circuit workouts into three rounds of each exercise and it has three different levels depending on the intensity you’re ready to take on. It’s similar to the first workout plan I was using in the way that it’s divided up, but there are three cardio and ab days a week. The rest is legs and glutes, arms and shoulders, and a full body workout. It encourages a day of rest. You can upload your progress pictures, find stretching/cool down exercises, take extra challenges, and pause the workout itself at any time. It checks off the workouts you fully complete. I pick and choose what workout I want to do on whatever day. It’s that easy and accessible. I follow the workouts to the best of my ability and when a certain exercise is still too challenging for me, I do a modification.

Every time that I go to the gym, I face a challenge. Sometimes the biggest one is getting there. The way I overcome and push myself while I’m there goes beyond my physical capacity. If I am ready to give up mentally, my body catches up real fast. It closely follows my thinking pattern. I know this because as I’ve said before, I don’t really ever look forward to cardio, specifically running. I had been avoiding the treadmill for years. I’ve walked by pretending to not know why it’s there. Recently, we started “talking again.” We discussed our past and tried to figure out why it didn’t work out between us. We blamed one another, but ultimately I met it halfway. We agreed that we needed to move forward and that I would  make the time for it on the days of my choosing and at my own pace. It promised that it wouldn’t throw me off this time around (as it has so many times before. I’m not kidding.) I’m happy to say that so far it’s been going well, better then expected. On these challenging cardio days, my reward is that it’s a shorter workout (30-40 minutes.) This allows me to really tap into all my energy and focus.

Diet wise, I tried intermittent fasting. I ate within an 8 hour window and fasted for 16 hours. It wasn’t very difficult to do because of my morning schedule with Jude (which means I usually put off eating until lunch,) but I didn’t really feel that it was as effective as I wanted it to be. I heard about Keto from word of mouth and I looked into it. I liked that there was a bit of emphasis on eating fattier foods (avocados and bacon were highly suggested), but the lack of carbs scared me. The majority of what I ate beforehand always had something to do with bread, beans, cereal, pasta, pasta, and more pasta. I had been trying to figure out how I’d decrease my carb intake for a long time and this seemed to be the right way to go about it. It did not disappoint. I can’t tell you if I actually lost weight because I haven’t stepped on a scale since my post pregnancy check up, but I felt amazing even after just one week. I had so much more energy, felt lighter, didn’t get bloated anymore, and I was still having my cheat meal/cheat snacks once a week. I don’t count macros, but I do make sure I keep my carb intake (if there is any) under 20 grams six days a week. I really enjoy eating healthy fats and it’s helped me eat more vegetables then I ever have before. I found something that doesn’t make me feel like I’m missing out on anything and I get more energy as a pay off.

 

To the ones who still struggle and have people/things going on in their lives that don’t help:

Mentally, I fight to find the motivation to go to the gym more then I don’t. It’s a habit I have to work at maintaining every single week even after months of doing this. I have to keep focus and self talk/yell in my head to push myself further in my workouts and to not quit until I’ve finished that last set or mile. I sweat profusely. I rearrange my outfit because it rolls down, hikes up, and makes things pop out that I don’t want to share with the world. I look at the clock a million times. Sometimes I don’t make it through that front door and I know what its like to feel terrible because of that. I have avoided mirrors at many different points in my life. I’ve put things back in my own closet because it just doesn’t fit me anymore and it’s embarrassing. I’ve had people in my life make comments about my body. It’s amazing how much one person, one situation, just one simply remark can affect you and change how you see yourself. I don’t pretend to be in anyone else’s exact shoes, but what I’m am trying to say is that I know none of this is easy.

My humble advice is to eliminate whatever it is in your life that doesn’t serve a purpose and that keeps you from moving forward. You probably already know what it is. If it’s a person, a place, certain foods, get rid of it and move on.  Do whatever you have to do to make this happen. The best thing you can do with all that hurt, pain, embarrassment, and struggle is face it head on and put all of that energy into something that is just for you. Practice self love and keep yourself moving, eat things that make you happy, but also that make you feel good and healthy inside. If you try some of these changes and you start to feel weak, like it’s wearing you down, it still hurts, its hard to breathe, remind yourself you’ve been through worse because I am sure you have and you’ve survived it. You are that strong. We all are.