Self-Actualization

So, something you should know about me from the start...I am yet to figure out where I fit in this world. I have spent my entire life searching for my space, my place in this world. But I think the trick (at least for me) is that I don’t fit. I don’t fit in a box. I am not a “type”. I don’t have a lane…except for the one I created for myself.

 

Please don’t mistake this understanding as any level of wisdom or enlightenment. I still long to be a part of some group. I still want to “fit in”. And I believe there will always be a part of me (that 8^th grade girl that didn’t have a clique, maybe?) that wants to be part of the “in” crowd (did I just date myself?).

 

However, I have come to the realization that many of the dreams and hopes I was raised on are not necessarily meant for me and that is not necessarily a bad thing.

 

I believed that by now…42 years old, I would be married (check), have my family (check), be living in my “forever home” (not check), have a successful career (semi-check), and be financially stable-or at least not be panicking about the bank account on a weekly basis (also, not check).

 

Instead, I am a grieving mother, the wife of a man (whom I love deeply) who deals with multiple mental health issues, mother to 2 beautiful and broken teen-aged girls, a suicide survivor (in the sense that I have survived the suicide of my son), a baby-loss mama, I don’t own a home-I don’t even really like the home we live in. I pay several bills late-every.single.month. I spend more money on things that most people would not understand (mostly horses, but that is another chapter).

 

And that’s okay. At least that’s what I tell myself on the good days.

 

I was raised to believe that there is a formula and straight-line definition for success in life. Do well in school. Get a higher-education degree. Get a good job. Get married. Have children. Invest. Retire.

 

Well…that is clearly not the path my life has taken. And I am learning to be okay with that.

 

First and foremost-let’s address the elephant in the room. My 15 year old son committed suicide by shooting himself in the head in my bathroom.

 

Let me explain something about trauma. Once the absofuckinglutely unthinkable, impossible, unrealistic, shit-that-happens-to-other-people happens to you ALL BETS ARE OFF. Along with grief, you live in a state of constant hyper-vigilance because you know…I mean YOU KNOW, literally anything can happen. The absolute WORST CASE SCENARIO has become a reality and now you (and your loved ones) are safe from absolutely nothing.

 

It is exhausting. 

 

Okay, some other things you should know about me….

 

·         I was raised Southern Baptist.

·         My husband has a bachelor’s degree from a Christian university.

·         I swear like a sailor…except in front of my parents.

·         We do not attend church; we no longer have a church home.

·         I am still searching for what role God plays in my life right now…I am not even sure what that means.

·         My parenting style could best be described as “but did you die?”

·         I am doing my best, along with my husband, to parent 2 teen-aged girls who have experienced more loss and trauma than most people experience in a lifetime.

·         I give them grace…a lot of it. Maybe more than I should.

·         I have several chronic illnesses that sometimes make it hard for me to do the things I want to do.

·         On top of that, I suffer from anxiety and depression.

·         I am fiercely protective of my family. When you have experienced the type of loss I have, you will do whatever is necessary to protect what you still have. Translation: don’t fuck with my kids or my husband. I will cut you.

·         I have multiple tattoos and intend to get more…a lot more.

·         I spend a lot of time at the barn…A LOT OF TIME. But I do it because I want to give my girls every opportunity to pursue and achieve their dreams.

·         Our method of homeschooling is more unschooling right now…and I am okay with that.

 

So now you know me…or at least some basic foundational facts about me. One last thing…I have no filter. None. At all. So if you are going to keep reading, buckle up, bitches!