Never Grow Up

It took me a while to figure out why this song makes me bawl my eyes out... I mean, it's Taylor Swift... It's so embarrassing how much I love her. I can't help it...

 


 Sad, tragic, nalstalgic, and beautiful... When I first heard it I was thinking of my two sweet babies. How is that so much time has passed? I'm still sad that Gwen's infancy is over, and here she is in elementary school. I've grieved over her milestones. I was happy but it was so sad. When she walked she didn't need me to carry her anymore. When she began talking she needed me to communicate for her less and less. She doesn't need me now to get dressed or brush her hair (most of the time), or get her seatbelt on. I am proud of her, but it's too fast!


 But I have realized that my grief goes beyond that for my own children. "Memorize what it sounded like when your Dad gets home. Remember the footsteps. Remember the words said and all your little brother's favorite songs. I just realized that everything I have is someday gonna be gone." The thing is... I haven't been ready to grow up. I have felt since that since I became an adult, I have still been a child. I'm trying so hard to make the right choices and be brave, but I keep waiting for someone to step in and make it all better. In my child's mind I don't understand why the people I love can't love eachother. I don't understand why people don't just get along. Why can't everything just be ok? It should be that simple. But it isn't. "I wish I'd never grown up."


 I've said lately that I am so tired of people telling me that I had a horrible childhood. My God am I sick of it. Don't anyone dare tell me what my childhood was like. I remember what it sounded like when my dad came home. I remember my parents in love. I remember what came later, but it didn't change how I view them. I loved them. I see the pain in both my parents. I see the pain in my siblings who have such varying stories. I see the pain in many other people and yet I see the beautiful hearts of those who I love.


 I cry because I want to give my kids what I didn't have. I want them to have their worlds connected. And yet this is the very thing that I can't give them. God knows I tried. I know that what I can give them is me. What I can give them is my very best. When Gwen is 29 and looking back, I want her to know that I loved her. I want her to see how I surrounded her with people who loved her and chose her. I had this. It made it better. Honestly it made it beautiful. It was broken, but beautiful. I want her to know how much I grieved and wept over what I couldn't fix. But I also want her to look at what I did with what I had and be proud of her family. I hope I do better than my parents as they did better than theirs. I hope they know how thankful I am for both of them and for all the people that they have  brought into my life that have said and lived the words "I love you".




 This is my favorite scene of my favorite movie... fitting I think

http://youtu.be/19GjQhKP_G4

  "You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone." "I still feel at home in my house." "You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place."

TRUTH

There is a truth. There is a right and there is a wrong. There is one way.


These are comfortable ideas. They make us feel safe in our cozy, boundary padded playpens. They give us a ruler to measure ourselves against, and what is even better, they allow us to have a ruler to measure everyone else.


 It feels good to create walls. It feels good to have labels and reasons and explanations for our truth. Our label becomes our identity. No longer does it become a search for truth, but a quest to fit our reality into whatever version of truth we have embraced. Square peg in round hole.


 This happens everwhere. It is true in almost every aspect of our lives. Most people have already decided what to believe. We are now looking for arguments to substanciate whatever belief system has made us feel comfortable.


 The worst of human nature has manifested itself through the protection of religion. It makes people feel shielded from the reality of their evil. It makes them feel safe in their predjudice. It makes them feel superior by way of others' inferiority. It is the reason for people opressing and murdering eachother throughout history. It is the reason for discrimination and division.
What makes us feel challenged and uncomfortable must be wrong. 


The Christian label. The Muslim label. The Democratic or Republican labels. They all think they are right. They all thing everyone else is wrong. No label encompasses truth. 


 Everyone in reality is stumbling around in this maze trying to make sense of tough issues; trying to find the truth in the mucky confusion. And whether we choose to admit it or not, none of us know for sure exactly what the hell is going on. We get on platforms and get passionate and fired up just to believe in something; just to feel alive. 


 But truth surpasses our puny playpens. It is there; but I don't believe it looks anything like we think it does.

running again...

someone emailed me yesterday asking for my advice regarding running her first half marathon. i was so honored/embarrassed because i feel like such a newbie myself. two year anniversary this month... yesss i did run my first half six short weeks after i started running... but that's just because i was running... running from every bad thing in my life falling down around me... one week before i laced my running shoes for the first time i had blood work done for my declining health. I was debilitated by my anxiety. My thyroid levels were out of control. I had anemia, loss of appetite, and couldn't sleep. I was winded by climbing my stairs. i was so very tired. so i ran... my first full marathon was 5 months later... i was running from my situation... and it took me there, to that day; June 6th 2010. the power i took back from that experience was life changing. if i could do that, then i could do anything. i could take care of myself and my kids and make a way for us.

it's such an emotionally connected thing for me. it's not the mileage, or the pace, or the actual day of the race. it's every day that took me there. every day that takes me there now. it's every hard choice that makes me a better runner. it's what i eat. it's what time i go to bed. it's that dark, cold, morning vs that cozy bed. it's running through the aches, and discomfort and realizing that i just made it up that hill for the first time without stopping. it's realizing that this was easier this time than it was before. it's realizing that i'm feeling better; getting faster. it's every choice along this road that makes me a better mother; a better friend; a better partner-student-sister-daughter... and a better runner...

so the SLO marathon is happening April 22nd. it's the first one San Luis has ever had. do it. do the half. do the 5k. do what you can. it's hard, but it will make you better. doing what's hard generally does.

also, watch "the spirit of the marathon" on netfix instant streaming because wow... it's great...

Random

Due to circumstances absolutely within my control there have been a few misunderstandings regarding my "atheist rant" in a previous blog. I would like to go on record that this blog absolutely in no way coorolated to my childhood, or Apple Creek, or my sweet mother. Any connection you may have seen was incorrect. It was written regarding very current issues in my life. For those that don't know what the hell I'm talking about it doesn't matter. I didn't celebrate Holloween or Christmas growing up but certainly had a great time on those holidays anyway, and completely respect people that choose to abstain from participating in them. I have no judgement for people's choices regarding the matter and would appreciate the same spirit of acceptance from others.