I think something rather wonderful has happened today. At least, I hope it’s wonderful, and I hope it really happened. I just hope one other wonderful thing happens right now—that I’m able to get out all that’s in my head!!! :-S
I started reading Debbie Macomber’s Knit Together yesterday, and got to the part where she talks, in the second chapter, about dreams and speaking them aloud. I’ve got so many dreams—I was once told I was like a diamond, with many facets. I felt sorta uncomfortable, not in a bad way (even though it was a guy who was in prison at the time), but as if I wasn’t totally sure it was true. That man has what I see as a really deep relationship with and belief in Christ. (I hope he still has it) I’ve got so many dreams that I do want to come true (listed here in no specific order)—I want to be a published writer…I don’t want to just stop at one item, I want to be able to make something of a living from it…I want to be a librarian…I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but for me the experience when stepping into a library isn’t too far from the scene in City of Angels where Nicolas Cage’s character, while he’s still an angel, walks into a library for the first time in the movie…I want to be a good mother and wife to my family…my mom’s a great mom, and my sister and I and my dad are all devoted to her…I want out of this hell hole so badly, in a GOOD WAY (like with my choice)…I know I’ve mentioned the millions of why’s already!
When Mrs. Macomber says to “Say it out loud: ‘I want to…'”, when I got to that part, what I whispered (after thinking “I want to write” but also being just a tad bit confused) was “I want to live again. Really really LIVE.”
I don’t know if you can tell by reading my posts (if you read them with any frequency), but I feel rather mundane, I have felt “blah” for so long, I can just barely tell you the last time I felt GOOD. I mean, really GOOD. Deep down, sh*t eating grin GOOOOOOOOD. When I really felt something, and really felt like me, or started to again. I know for sure I felt pretty good the weekend before I sprained my ankle. You can ask my husband how very good I felt ::blush:: 😉
Fast forward to this evening. Bedtime for P. It was a little bit later than I REALLY want it to be, but that’s sadly become the norm around here. What’s more, and what I was really excited about, is that today we bought him his very own toddler bed. He seemed really happy about it too. I got him to start falling asleep in it, but things quickly fell apart. I eventually let him get up and brush his teeth (oh what a no-no), and a few other things I really shouldn’t let him do. It got to the point, though, that for the first time in a long time I was crying too, and praying (somewhat loudly) to God that the stuff would friggin’ end! I’m so sad when I see him having a fit because I know he’s overtired. I kick myself because, really, being the one in charge of him going to bed, I’m the one whose fault it is that he’s still up and he’s so tired. But, as I said, I ended up in tears myself, begging for help, to make sure I DON’T do anything to this little boy, not once but twice. The second time around, I ended up giving in to the kid, something I didn’t want to do—I didn’t want him to again sleep in our bed, I didn’t want him to think he could sleep wherever he wanted, I didn’t want this to end the same bad way it has before when I went through this kind of thing. He usually, actually, goes to sleep rather easily, but the later I put him to sleep at night, the harder it is. Duh, he’s overtired.
During this, I came to a realization about something, something occurred while I was praying, and I’m hoping this is something that can be built upon, and that I don’t lose this feeling which I have from it. I realized that the biggest thing holding me back is one thing and one thing alone that can be seen as a common thread through my whole life. I’m afraid. And not just of some irrational, ununderstandable idea. I’m afraid of failing, I’m afraid of succeeding, I’m afraid of being rejected, I’m afraid I won’t measure up…here’s everything, the specifics…
I’m afraid someone will walk in my door, see my house, decide it’s not clean enough, and call CPS on me—my house shows it, in that I’m too paralyzed with this fear to clean it.
I’m afraid someone will hear me talk to and/or yell at my kids, or see some small bruise or scratch on my kids (especially P), and call CPS because I’m not a good mother—my neighbor is a REAL yeller, with no real explanation to her kids, is rude to everyone—this has already changed me in how hard I try NOT to yell at my kids, even if maybe they need it (along with my mom and my sister making comments [my sister through my mother—what does my sister know, she has no kids and can’t hardly keep her own life together right now]), though I do still yell at them too often for me to be comfortable.
I’m afraid to write, to submit stories, because I am afraid I’ll be rejected—this is normal, I understand—or that I won’t be able to come up with a decent, coherent story or article.
I’m afraid to tell people about my candle biz, display my candle biz right out there in front of everyone, because I’m afraid people will look at me and say “you want me to spend HOW MUCH on a candle in this economy?” I do NOT want to be an excuse making Edna anymore (this comes from a training call I listened to some weeks back from the company). I’m also afraid to do anything about it because I’m afraid I won’t be able to make any money for my family. Even though I’m just as afraid that one day someone will come in and take my family away because we’re so dang far into debt (even though, in reality, we’re not all THAT far into debt. I don’t think.).
I’m afraid to let my kids go far because I’m afraid of what might happen to them. I mean, when something happens to my daughter that’s so earth shaking it’s the final straw as to why I quit talking to my best friend, in her house, then how can I be sure that something equally as earth shaking happen some place else, with people I deem much less trust worthy won’t happen? There are few people I trust my kids with, and those are people who I really think are worthy of such trust—though I can’t say I’d be surprised anymore if things happen.
I’m afraid to trust my husband—with many things—my trust that he won’t go out and dilly around, with my heart, my mind, my views. Because I’m afraid of his response, that he’ll leave or something. I might say I do trust him, but there are times when I’m just so scared thing will turn out badly.
I’m afraid to lose control. Not that I’ll go off and do anything wrong necessarily (though there’s that too), but that if I just let things happen, then they will go terribly wrong. All sorts of things, things I’ve mentioned, and things I’ve forgotten to mention.
I’m afraid that if I tell mom what really happens around here sometimes, or that I let her know when I’m having one of my really bad days, or that things just don’t happen the way she thinks…I’m not sure what she’d do. I know she’ll always love me, but she’s the one I’m most scared will call CPS. As she’s sorta said sometimes things are bad enough she’s wondered if she should or shouldn’t.
Right now, I’m scared to keep going with Weight Watchers in part because I’m not sure that money won’t be tight (it all too often is way too tight), and I’m not sure that I can do it (even though I have. Twice), so I end up instead filling all the feelings of inadequacy in all of these things with food.
Finally, I’m even scared to publish this. Because I don’t know how people will receive me, if they will think I’m crazy or stupid or weak or just plain wrong. I don’t see why it is that I care so much what others think. Overall, most of the time when I examine who I really am, I like myself a whole lot. I love hard, I believe hard, I’m smart, I’m kind, I’m giving. I don’t think I’m much of a looker, but oh the well, we can’t have everything.
When I prayed those prayers, then started having those realizations, things happened inside me. In the pit of my stomach, first I kind of hurt. I think I was facing my fears for the first time in a long time. All of this fear takes so much out of a person. Then, I started to tingle. Right out to my fingers. I was crying the whole time. At the thought of how very afraid I was. Of how this might be an answer to the prayer I said while reading the book and saying what I wanted out loud. Because, I mean really—isn’t that what it was? Whispered loud enough for just me and God to hear it?
I want to say I feel a bit scared that this feeling will go away. I do, actually. I mean, I’ve felt it, grabbed it, reigned part of me in—what if I lose this? I’m going to keep praying for the strength I need to hold on to all of what I learned about myself tonight. My mom has lived a lot of her life in fear. It’s put her where she is now. But I don’t want to end up like that. My mom is a GREAT woman (remember, we’re all devoted to her!), but there are so many things that hold her back. Fear is a big one. For T too, I think. I can see where he’s afraid. Of opening up and really letting people know the inner him. Even me. I’ve only ever seen my husband cry once, and then he wanted to (a) crawl out of his own skin and (b) get so far away from everyone that I couldn’t even hold him—he was in the corner of the bedroom we had in my parents house, nearly all the way in the closet (because he really couldn’t be in the corner, since the changing table was there). And all I wanted to do was hug him.
I look back now, and realize how much harder I felt things when I was younger. And how little I feel things now. My mom said for years and years that if she finally cried, it would be a Niagara Falls.