I’m a Little Broken, and That’s Ok

I mean, where would I even begin?

I have a history of an anxious mind. I have Gone Days. I have a Fever. I have PTSD. I have The Curious Case of Crying During Benjamin Button. Take your pick around here. I’m nearly wide open. There are pieces of it scattered throughout this blog.

And it’s rather fun to find it again. Easter eggs.

You can throw in how I sometimes feel so much, that I feel nothing. It’s broken down and bottled up, or broken up and bottled down. Sometimes there’s only a second of difference between the two. I have that nearly invisible inch between feeling nothing and feeling everything. I know what it’s like to have your heart pound and your stomach in your throat at nearly invisible triggers – tied by nearly invisible string – trailing between these nearly invisible miles – for days, weeks, months and years – into oblivion. Always invisibly tied to you – the tether – while sailing off in some distant galaxy or two.

It’s ready to hurl back and trip you at any moment. I get that.

I'm linking up with Finish The Sentence Friday. This week's topic is

I know the way your heart can wrap around a missing person you only ever almost knew. I know what it is to be completely bowled over by love, and to only have it happen the tiniest amount of times. Of so many faces.. in so very many places.

It’s sort of amazing the way it only happens once or twice a lifetime?

I also know the truest feeling of heartbreak – it’s like an endless dark cloud over you – and your life can be going amazingly, which it has a way of doing when you’re less invested in outcomes, but you still feel like you’ll never be happy again.

Don’t worry. You will be.

I thought so long about which of my broken stories to tell you. Which one to choose? Where to begin? Then I realized that I’m sort of just one big broken story, and that’s ok. I’m proud of my breaks – I wear them proudly with their sloppy bandages and flimsy casts. All the while, the bone and the flesh has a way of forming and stitching itself back up again. When did I feel most broken? I couldn’t pick one time, but sometimes those inner demons make it harder to fight the ones out in the world, and the ones out in the world distract you from fighting the inner ones at the core. They arrive. You rise to meet them.

broken

To let yourself be broken is the key to putting yourself back together again. You don’t even have to go it alone. All the King’s horses and all the King’s men are gonna try to put you back together again. You just have to find what works.

Being broken means you’re alive

Being broken means you’re growing

Being broken is going to fuel you

Being broken means you’ll understand yourself and the world better

Being broken means you’re going to put yourself back together

Being broken means you’ll meet a new version of yourself

I’m linking up with Finish The Sentence Friday. This week’s topic is “I felt the most broken when..” You can link up HERE.

When did you feel it the most?

I’ve Got Kindergarten Flashback Fever

We came. We sat. We CONQUERED kindergarten registration!

I thought I was nervous registering my firstborn for kindergarten, but it turns out, I got as nervous with my second! Here's how he's rocking life in style.

I sat in the corner and set the kids up with crayons and paper. Des adorably shouted out across a long conference table, “Hi Mama!”, and his beaming voice brought smiles to other nervous parents. Were they nervous? Was it their first time? I was nervous. It wasn’t my first time. I chatted with a friend and watched several people come and go. I thought I had grace on my side but I was sitting in the back and the Registrar couldn’t see me, so she kept getting paperwork from others first. I sat.

And occasionally talked to the kids across a long table.

I thought I was nervous registering my firstborn for kindergarten, but it turns out, I got as nervous with my second! Here's how he's rocking life in style.

My friend left and the kids continued to color quietly, shout my name over a long table filled with parents, or sit on my lap at the same time. They started bickering and my nerves got the best of me. A dad who came much later than me and pushed his paperwork ahead of people waiting, then continued to ask the Registrar a ton of questions she shouldn’t have had to answer. I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. I really hope no one saw me! It was the nerves, honestly. Someone I know and trust helped push the papers through. Des was registered rather quickly, and then we celebrated at Friendly’s. I even ate some ice cream!

I’ve been having a little trouble catching my breath since, but it’s all good. Life sometimes runs away with it.

I thought I was nervous registering my firstborn for kindergarten, but it turns out, I got as nervous with my second! Here's how he's rocking life in style.

What else can I say? This is where I discovered my PTSD with Scarlet, and it was NOT run-of-the-mill kindergarten anxiety. This was something completely different. It’s easier now, because I’ve done the work. I’m partly there and I don’t know if there’s a way to ever be fully there, but we do what we can, don’t we? It’s harder now, because he’s my second, and I was the second and sometimes I see myself in him so much, it’s like a slap to the face. And maybe that’s ok. I wish I remembered this verbatim but it was sweet and fumbling, rather than smooth-talking. I had made him lunch and I was washing the dishes and he had to stumble and fumble for words. The gist of it is that he said, “I love you so much.” I said, “I love YOU so much.”

Then he said, “I love you.. just.. I love you just in the way that you are.”

I thought I was nervous registering my firstborn for kindergarten, but it turns out, I got as nervous with my second! Here's how he's rocking life in style.

That’s when I died a little. Or a lot. Or maybe I came rushing back to life, with air filling my lungs. Again.

Today is “Pajamas Day” OR “Dress Like Your Favorite Book Character Day” at school. Scarlet found a way to do both, because her favorite book character (Scarlett the Garnet Fairy) wears a red gown and wings, and Scarlet has a gorgeous red nightgown. She paired it with wings, slippers, and a ruby necklace. She had this laid out THREE DAYS ago because she was so excited. It was the full outfit, and also a stuffie and a book. The morning was hectic with Des going to the dentist, and me trying to tally up her read-a-thon minutes and write a check to the school. Des and Cassidy left, and we got ready to go.

She had her stuffie and book waiting on the staircase to leave. We left in a puff of crazy and she didn’t realize until we were at school that they didn’t make it with us. She begged me to go home and get them. She said she’d do anything. I instilled tough love and said it wasn’t my responsibility. She begged and pleaded. I wouldn’t budge. Her friends were on the playground and she begged and pleaded with me to go see them with her. I thought she should do that on her own too. Tough love again. Finally she went, small and alone, and found them. I went home to find the stuffie and book lovingly placed on the stairs. I lost it. I burst into tears. I couldn’t catch my breath. I got back in the car and brought them to school.

I was shaking and the secretary let me in, and gave me the green light to the classroom. I ran. One of her second grade friends saw me in the hallway and waved broadly. I went in and the teacher nodded at me to proceed. One of her friends said, “Scarlet, your mom is here!” The LOOK ON HER FACE WHEN SHE TURNED AND SAW ME. It was love and relief and excitement and more love and thanks. She melted into my arms. I said, “These are for you,” and handed her the stuffie and the book. She thanked me a million times. We hugged again. I ducked out, but not before looking back twice to see her again.

Her cheeks were SO pink with happiness. I will never forget it. I bet she won’t either.

Tough love? Meh. Maybe another day. I got home and I saw that stuffie and that book, as if they were waiting for me. In one gut instinct move, I seized them in my arms and didn’t rest until they were safely nestled in HER arms. For her day.

There’s a lot of time for lessons, and maybe not enough time for LOVE. So that’s what I choose.