by Sarah | Jul 2, 2014 | All About Me, All of Us, Blogging Life, Crap, Personal, Pour Your Heart Out, Random, Redefining Perfect
I like to act like I have all the answers.
It’s better to be in the know.
But I’m a fake.
There’s so many minutes of every day that I’m lost.
I don’t know how to handle all of the things life has thrown at me lately. Sometimes the littlest thing sets me off in a tizzy and I’m gone for hours.
My mind eventually catches up to my panic and eases my internal panic, but in the interim I’m lost.
The past month has been overwhelming in a seemingly never-ending stream of issue upon issue. Most of which I have no answers for, no way to resolve in the real world in any matter of real time.
99% of the time I do my best not to show it (this past month has been an exception).
I’m a great actress in this respect. I’m great at the “fake it ’til you make it”.
When all I want to do is cry.
Scream.
Hide.
Crawl into a dark hole until the worst passes.
I wish I had all the answers. I work better with facts. Knowledge. They say knowledge is power, and in most ways it’s true. Unfortunately, too many of the current events are great unknowns.
What will happen with my dad’s Parkinson’s?
Will my sons CF issues crop up again this year?
Will my daughter’s erupt in a way they haven’t in years?
Did we make a mistake putting the middle on meds?
Will SSI resolve fast or do I have more fight ahead?
Will my new (old) job really help us out? Or hinder us in some way?
Too many questions and not enough answers.
If I could get some solid answers, maybe I’d be better off.
Until then, I’ll keep faking it until I make it, I guess.
*~*
Written for Things I can’t Say’s Pour Your Heart Out
by Sarah | Mar 26, 2014 | All About Kennedy, All About Me, Blogging Life, Pour Your Heart Out, Redefining Perfect, Top Ten Tuesday
I’ve never been a confident person (except on the stage).
I’ve never had that “it” factor that makes people popular, and I’ve never understood it.
I remember all too well the pain of being left out. The last called. The one no one liked. The one called “nerd”. The one told, by the one she thought was her best friend “I don’t like you,” after a bone-deep betrayal.
The pain that cuts deep in the eyes of youth. The pain that lingers long into adulthood and taints memories for years to come.
I remember so clearly the torture of late elementary and middle school. I was terrified to send my boy to middle school because of my experiences (but he survived unscathed).
*~*
Out of all my kids, I never thought I’d have to worry about Kennedy.
Despite her quirks and tendency toward tempers, she’s a bright and shiny, happy girl. One I thought was brimming with confidence and cheer.
I never thought she would look at me with tear-filled eyes and whimper those heart-wrenching words…
“Nobody likes me. They won’t play with me. They said they wouldn’t be my friend anymore.”
A shot to the heart that brought up so much pain for myself.
Worse, because it’s my baby.
And I want to fix it.
But is it fixable? How?
After a few weeks of contemplation, discussion, and talking, I attempted to email the teacher. I explained the situation, what had been told to us, with the full acknowledgment that I knew sometimes K’s temper could be a stepping stone. I asked the teacher for HER insights and observations…if she’d noticed anything. The only response? The guidance counselor calling to suggest Kennedy be placed in “Friendship Group” again…a group she’s been in every year that’s designed to help kids w/ issues making friends for various reasons.
No insights.
No help.
K seems happier now. She’s said that her friends agreed to be her friends again.
But I watch.
And I wait.
Praying that she comes out the other end on the good side of the emotional wall.
Knowing that I’ll be there whatever happens. Either with deep understanding of her pain, or joy that she has a freedom and happiness I never felt.
*~*
Written for Things I can’t Say’s Pour Your Heart Out
by Sarah | Mar 19, 2014 | All About Denver, All About Family, Blogging Life, Pour Your Heart Out, Redefining Perfect, The Teenager
As a baby he was all Mama’s boy. I was a single mom and he was my world.
As he grew, he stayed that way. He listened to my musicals in the car with me.
Everything was shared, no secrets kept.
Over time, and with age, the world began to shift.
Sisters were born.
School got harder.
Life got busier.
He became a pre-teen.
The hugging slipped away.
The talking disappeared.
Sullenness crept in where sunshine had lived.
And then we had a teenager.
Over the past few years, the ever-changing relationship has left me at time joyous, befuddled, angry, and sad.
The need for independence, coupled with the distance already formed, has left some gaps in the relationship.
I don’t understand him, although I try.
He is a sensitive one, like I always was, and I find myself now understanding my dad’s frustration when I was that age.
There are ways Denver is just like me—and ways he is nothing like me.
I don’t know how to parent a teenager. I don’t know how to let go and hold tight. I don’t know how to keep his trust as he tests mine.
Yet, in the frustration and pain, there are moments.
Times we share laughter. Times we have a playful battle of wits (or wills).
There are some subjects we share an enjoyment of (raising a Geek when you’re one helps).
Some days I think I’m losing him and will never get him back.
Some days I worry I didn’t do a good enough job raising him.
But these days, as he’s getting a little older—a little closer to good-bye—we are starting to find that middle ground.
There are times I think he might actually like his parents (heaven forbid).
And so I think there is hope.
Just so long as he knows how proud we are of him (we are, so much).
So long as he knows how smart he is and how much potential he has.
Then I am happy, and think maybe I didn’t do such a bad job in raising him after all.
*
Are you ready for the teen years? I still have two kids to go through, and they’re girls. I don’t think I’m ready for that.
*~*
Written for Things I can’t Say’s Pour Your Heart Out
But I’m a fake.
