I thought I’d share some music while my child is asleep. I used to work at 3 in the morning baking pastries and I feel as though this song is pretty relevant. My husband would get home around 11 or 12 at night and this puts me in his perspective a bit, since we hardly ever saw each other during that moment in our lives. Oftentimes, I forget that marriage is two people and that both need to put in an effort to strive for their loved one’s happiness. Some missed sleep is nothing if you want to spend your entire life with someone.
I gave birth to nature baby.
He jabbers as we run outside, taking in the sights and sounds of the trees that we pass.
Sometimes he falls asleep from the rhythm and I can hear him snoring lightly.
I’m sure he dreams of sunshine and birds, because he is always in the best of moods in the outdoors.
When he is big and grown, I hope he’ll be running next to me as we tackle the big miles. His dad will be on his bike, keeping our pace steady, as we jump rocks and dodge branches in the forest.
For now, though, he is a nature baby.
While I look at my child as he crawls and climbs and falls, it occurs to me that I was once a child like this.
I look back at my childhood dreams and teenage stupidities and wonder what sort of dreams and stupidities my baby will have as he ages.
I made life so hard for my parents. I hated them at some points, even. The worse thing my child does to me is try to run away as I change his diaper. He may have a day where he hates me. It may last longer than a day and it seems so hard to believe.
Motherhood is hard. Parenthood is hard. My husband just had to do compressions on a man who committed suicide. His own mother was the one that found him, and that scares me.
I guess all I can really do is teach my child to love and to value the fragility of life. As his mother, I want to protect him and keep him in a perfectly safe bubble, but this will make him value so little. He needs to experience the harshness of life to understand the beauty of it.
But I am afraid. I cannot help it. Forgive me.
It was a brisk morning, a hard morning
I woke up at six, let my baby sleep a little longer
Eggs and toast my fuel, double layers my warmth
We made it out, eventually
Just a dirty diaper or two, just a tear or two
Just a typical morning, just a jog
We made it to the hill, not so much a mountain
I worried about mud, I was right
The ten miles became nearly eleven and a half, how dare they
I ran comfortably, at first
Was up in front, felt like a speed demon
Two caught up with me, way too soon
But I ran well, felt the burn on the uphill
Tripped a little, took some foliage with me
And made it third overall, first woman
It feels good to race, sometimes
Especially when free massages. free beer
Meet you at the finish line
Today, I tried to go for a run.
Normally, I don’t just try – I do
But today the asphalt was hot
And I was sticky the second I walked out
And it was too unpleasant to continue.
I long for trails.
Pain was necessary to make me who I am. Even though sometimes the thought of what I’ve gone through is crippling, I know for a fact that it was the turning point for my becoming. Without pain, I would never have held a relationship to the wild step of marriage. Without pain, I would never had given it my all to birth a child. I wouldn’t have the determination that I have now to experience life to its fullest. But, oh, how it hurt at the time.
When a fifteen-year-old finds herself at the mercy of two grown men, so many things can happen. I could have died. I could have been abducted, sold, lost. I was violated but so much worse could have occurred in that moment. I survived to have a family and a life of potential. It killed me then, but it drives me now to love beyond reason the harshest of humans. Somehow I still see the light in this world.
In the year following that moment, I was dark in my soul. My mind shouted and my nails were used to scratch red, bloody words onto my skin. I wrote horrible notes to myself where no one would see them. To me, I was nothing. Ruined. A whore. I kept my dark secrets buried and let them simmer and shape me into a bitter cynic. I felt ugly, inside and out. And to me, every man, both young and old, wanted me as a toy to play with and then leave in the dirt.
What changed this horrible mindset? I had a mental disease that was eating away at my core. Whatever could possibly heal me of it?
There is a love that reaches deep into your heart and strengthens it and fills it where it once was empty. I may yet be cynical but I believe wholeheartedly that there is a God that mends the broken mind and drives us to live again. He let me realize that the darkness in me was my soul crying to be whole. I was not abandoned or ruined or the putrid heap I thought I was. I was loved. I was beautiful.
I hope that in my sharing of this there will be someone that will understand. Do not allow those that hurt you to win. You can still stand strong and tall and live life wonderfully. I hope you find the healing that I did. I hope you have better days. I hope you grow old with your family and can look back to see that pain only made you tougher and didn’t cripple you. You may still cry or flinch at little things but it will get better over time. Survive. Do not dwell on the past, as it cannot change, but it can change you for the better if you’ll allow it.