Tag: growth

Moving Forward

I have had friends that have struggled with addiction and/alcoholism through the years. And since I know it’s a disease, I stand by them. What do you need? You got this! I’m here for you! It always seemed so completely heartless when someone they loved abandoned them. How could they not be there for them in their time of need? Don’t they see they are trying to be well? Then, I was that loved one.

I once dated someone who was a recovering alcoholic. I met him after his rock bottom. I met him into his walk of sobriety. He told me about when he came back after getting sober. His wife had a function planned, and they were serving wine. He served wine. I was shocked at the insensitivity she had. Why wouldn’t she cancel the function? Why would she let there be alcohol there when she KNEW he was trying to be sober?

Why? Because she had years but having to cancel things or put her life on hold. Because he’s lied about his drinking before and this was just one more time he was going to disrupt her world. Because the rest of the world didn’t see what she had to live with, day after day, so this wasn’t anything new. She was tired. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care. He had siphoned all of the worry and care out of her for years and years. She just wanted to live life. She didn’t trust or believe him. She was done.

Did he need support? Absolutely. And he found in friends and family. And I’m sure she’s glad he did. He’s doing well. She’s doing well.

When alcoholism hit my family, I started going to a support group. The first thing they told me was to detach with love. Let go of control. I read the following, “today, if I am tempted to interfere what’s something that is none of my business, I can turn my attention instead to some way in which I can take care of myself.”

I disagreed with them. I am not controlling. In fact, I am pretty out of control most of the time. Detach with love? But he needs me! Now seems like the WORST time to detach! They told me that he needed to be in control of his sobriety. Not me. I had to let go. I could support and love, but I needed to stop doing things for him.

The next day I started to get his stuff together and thought, no, he needs to. It’s just paper work. He can grab it himself. Then later I went to text him to ask if he made his appointment…no. He needs to. Then I googled local AA meetings…no. he needs to do it. Oh my gosh. Beth. STOP.

I looked at the bills I had organized, the budget I made for him. I looked at the cleaning supplies I got to bring to his house to clean with. I realized that I am his enabler. I just keep bailing him out. He needs to do it. But how? How do you look at someone you love and just step aside? When you know they won’t do it themselves, and you want to help?

“If they don’t want to be well, they won’t be. And there’s no amount of ‘doing it for them’ that will bring them there.” Ouch.

So I read up on codependency. I was the victim role. Always the victim of my alcoholic. And if I wanted any chance at all of us being healthy, I had to stop putting myself in positions that made me the victim. So, I tried to detach with love. I tried to be supportive and ask about his journey. And I waited or the deep talks and healing to begin. I was ready to work on me while he worked on himself.

What I wasn’t ready for was the backlash that came. If I asked about his sobriety, his house, his family, I was immediately met with anger and rage. Accusations of me being on drugs. Reminders of how I abandoned him. Screaming and cussing at me. And my response, to give it right back. That was our cycle: attack, defend, yell, repeat. It was way harder than I anticipated. I can be pretty mean. I know the low blows. And all the years of working on me, went out the door every time we had an arguement. I could feel the toxicity seeping out of me. I hate that side of me.

There was one day I went out to help with yard work. I immediately felt the impulse to “look for evidence”. Just like I had done years before. I didn’t trust he was sober. So I started looking around. Then I stopped. Is this what I want? To always feel like I need to check the hiding spots to “catch” him? No. I can’t. I don’t have the energy. He lies. A lot. He sneaks. A lot. As do most alcoholics. And I can’t “snoop” my way into trust. This is something he has to do. I am not a victim of him. He is a victim of his addiction.

So I stopped asking. I stopped responding with anything more than a “that’s too bad” or “I’m happy for you”. Slowly I started noticing being treated differently by him. And things dissolved.

It’s not about love. It’s not about not wanting someone well. It’s about awareness of your own part in toxicity and not participating. If you see someone working on sobriety or being clean, BE THERE FOR THEM. I can’t stress that enough. They need their family and friends. But just know, that person that “abandoned” them? They had to walk away. Because they were probably in a place where neither could heal with the other there. Every week I share with my therapist something I wanted to say and didn’t. Or something I shouldn’t have said, but did. I talk through why I wanted to say it, and why I didn’t. I feel like a toddler learning to walk. A bit wobbly. And when I fall, I stand back up.

It matters to me. So I’m just going to say it.

When I was a kid, my mom had a friend with a daughter who was just awful. She was rude, bratty, mean, and selfish. We would often have playdates while our moms visited. It was always exciting and anxiety ridden. This little girl had EVERY toy. It was kid heaven. Unfortunately, her mom took a firm stand on the “I’m not going to force my kid to share if she doesn’t want to. Adults don’t have to share, so why do we make kids?” belief. (I would like to add that I do not make my children share things that are important or special to them. If that’s your favorite toy, offer them another one. Set your boundaries, but still be kind an inclusive.) So we would go to this kids house and she would not let us touch anything. Or she would give us crappy, broken toys.

She was also super nasty to my little sister. Try to scare her with things, make fun of her, give her things and take them away, etc. My sister would cry and she would straight up lie about what happened. I would watch this happen. Sometimes I would tell what really happened, but she usually had an excuse and then would act out on me. So I would just ignore it. I wasn’t looking to have that nastiness aimed at me. I seemed to have worked my way into the “I guess you can play with some stuff” arena. And I was going to keep that going. We would tell our mom in the car about how mean she was, and our mom would comfort us and tell us that she is glad we weren’t mean and selfish.

Then, one day, my little sister wasn’t playing with us. I don’t remember why. Sick? Sleeping? Gone? Whatever the reason, I was the “little one” then. I’m sure you can guess what that meant for me. She spent the visit terrorizing me. Not to the extent of my sister, since I was older, but enough to leave me in tears, wanting to go home.

There are a lot of times in life that we see injustice done and we continue to let it happen because it’s not directly affecting us. Racism. Classism. Sexism. Homophobia. Abuse. We know these things. We may even talk about them amongst ourselves in agreement that they’re wrong. But how often do we put ourselves out there when these things happen? If little kid Bethy had loudly took a stand against that bully, to my mom as it was happening, then maybe some change could have happened. Yes, being validated though conversation is a good thing. But it doesn’t solve the problem. There may be a day when that problem becomes your own. Will just you want someone to agree with you and carry on with life? Or will you want them to actively take a stand on your behalf?

While there are many examples of this in life, there is one that has been weighing on me. After talking to my husband about it, I decided that it’s something I should share publicly.

I am bisexual.

“You’re married to a man, so who cares?” I care. The bisexual community cares.

There are a few in my life know this. A lot that do not. Up until now, I didn’t think it was relevant to share. I always thought, “If I ever fall in love with a woman, then I will come out. What’s the point of causing issue if it’s not necessary?”

One of the most difficult things is trying to explain bisexuality to someone who thinks they know, and doesn’t care to learn.

When I was 15/16 I was working a Greek restaurant. There was this teenage girl that would come in on a regular basis. She was beautiful, funny, sweet, and every time I saw her I would get butterflies and my face would turn red. It was very confusing since I was raised very “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve”. I had crushes on famous females growing up. Clarissa was SO PRETTY AND COOL AND FUNNY. But just thought it must be that I admired them. Wanted to be like them. I wasn’t attracted to my female friends, and I did like boys. So I am definitely straight. Right? That teenage girl flooded me with confusion. Am I GAY?

After almost 20 years, I now understand what is misunderstood by most. Bisexuality is not turning on or off gayness or straightness. It is it’s own thing. I am attracted to and have the capacity to love both male and females. I am not straight just because I am married to a man. And the woman I’ve romantically been with didn’t make me gay. I am consistantly attracted to both genders. Not constantly, like some believe. Consistantly. Being bisexual does not mean I am going to run off with a woman or that I want a polygamist relationship. If you can be a straight person who is married, and see an attractive person of the opposite sex without feeling the urge to run off, you should be able to comprehend that I can be attracted to woman but be married to man. It’s the same exact thing. Commitment is specific to the person, not their sexual orientation.

I feel like a coward. Because I’m married to a man, I have the option to never tell anyone. I can sit here living as a straight person and it wouldn’t affect me in the slightest. I can discuss inequality and the rights of the LGBT community, but I can do it from a safe place of observation. I don’t have make people uncomfortable. I can ignore when people make homophobic jokes because they are not aware they of that aspect of me. Cowardice.

As I watch the rights of the LGBT community being chipped away, I am faced with the reality of my complacency. I talked to my husband about it, “what if something happened to you? And years from now I met a woman and fell in love with her? How many other woman are out there just like me, who find a woman instead of a man and are terrified to be with them because of the direction our country is taking? I feel like I need to come out. It seems silly since you’re a man and I’m not dating anymore. But I feel like I’ve turned my back on the LGBT community. I feel like my ‘I’ll come out if I have to’ approach is the same as saying I don’t want to have to suffer unnecessarily at the hands of bullies, so I’m going to sell off a part of my self to keep things nice for ME. I feel selfish.”

Like being little kids playing with that bully. I didn’t want to rock the boat. I felt bad, and even spoke out about things. But I liked not being the target and it ate at me not doing the right thing.

This post feels very anticlimactic. Because there’s nothing life changing for me. I am still exactly who I am. Learning this about me won’t change my relationships with you unless you change it. Will I get backlash? Oh I’m pretty sure. My kids have shared some of the things they’ve heard adults say about the gay community. About them going to hell. About them being disgusting. About how people should have the right to discriminate against them. My kids have come to me upset that there are adults that say such awful hateful things, while I have raised them to understand that love is love. There are different kinds. And no one’s love looks the same. I have told them that if they or any of their friends ever came out, I would protect and defend them from anyone who said hateful things.

I am bisexual. It does not affect my life as my life is now. But denying or ignoring this aspect of my life supports those who are trying to associate homosexuality with shame. And I refuse to feel shame about this aspect of who I am.

We don’t talk about money. Be poor privately please.

Why are the poor poor? Not how did they become poor, but why are they still poor. Have you ever ask yourself that? If you are, or have been, you know why.

Based on the posts I see on social media, the reason is, because that person is either: lazy, entitled, or makes poor choices. Are there lazy and entitled people? Sure there are. But I guarantee 99% of poor people work 10 times as hard as a financially stable person. Their life depends on it. And there are a lot of people that make poor choices, I being one of them. But unless your poor choice is gambling away your family savings or working for the mob, most poor people’s bad choices are buying a pair of jeans or going out for drinks. Not quite what I would consider worthy of a lifetime struggle to provide for your family.

Why am I bringing this up? Because I’m a poor person trying very hard to obtain what others tell me I could get if I just worked harder. I’m trying reach that goal you told me I’m not entitled to, that I have to work for. What is that goal? To have a place to live of my own and to be able to feed my children and pay my bills without worry or anxiety.

I receive SNAP. Because I’m below the poverty line. Does that make you uncomfortable? If you don’t know me I’m sure it doesn’t. If you know me personally I’m sure you feel quite uncomfortable knowing that about me. I once had a family member harass me on a Facebook post. He was convinced that the reason I am struggling HAS TO BE because I deserve it. I’m an entitled millennial who wants everything handed to me. I deleted him off my Facebook and had myself a good cry. Where has he been the last 10 years? I am not a quiet person. I do not bottle things inside. I am very honest and open about the good and the bad in my life. Why is my struggle making him so angry? It’s my struggle. I’m not angry. I love sharing my struggle so that others can know and feel hopeful. He was legitimately angry. Zero compassion.

Then someone said something to me that put it in perspective. “Of course he is angry. And of course he is blaming you. Because if he admits you’ve done everything you were supposed to and you are a good person, and are still suffering, then he would have to also admit that he stood by as you suffered for years and never offered you a hand of help.”

Holy crap. I used to always wonder why we didn’t talk about money. From a young age it was instilled in me that you never ask how much someone makes. And you don’t talk about how much you make. I remember asking, why we can’t talk about it. I was told it was because people that don’t make as much might get jealous and angry. It was to protect those who deserve their income from people who didn’t deserve it and wanted it.

Poor people don’t care if you know how much they make. I’ve had perfect strangers mention how much their check was in casual conversation. Poor people are not uncomfortable with talking about money. Whatevs. I’m broke but I needed some Chipotle. See, every single thing we do revolves around money. Like, if I buy the good toilet paper, will I have the gas to get my kids to school? Which bill can I be late on so I can replace my kids ripped school pants? We’re not handling our money with our sights set on vacation spots or the best investments. We’re trying to find a way to make sure we don’t have to eat peanut butter and jelly or cereal for dinner for the next week.

You know what would save me a lot of money? Being able to buy a house. My entire life has been at a standstill for the last year because the house I live in is unlivable. If I move my rent will be double to triple what it is now. It is not possible.

Poor people can’t buy houses. Not because they can’t afford them. Because the system is set up in a way to keep them poor.

I do not have a great credit score. To even have a chance at obtaining a mortgage I need 10% down. So let’s say I work for that goal. The houses in my area that I would be ideal for my family are about $150,000. But I don’t need ideal. I’m sure if I looked around and waited I could find something that makes do for about $100,000. So I need $10,000 to buy a house. With my current income I know I could save $100 a month. So that means in 8 years I could buy a house. If I lived extra poor I could probably save $200 a month. Then I could buy a house in 4 years. Do you see the problem? That means I still have to live in this shithole house with my four children until they are raised.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I can save $500 a month. That’s only a year and a half. Buuuuuut. I receive Food Stamps. About $500 a month. And the second my assets exceed $2,250, I do not qualify anymore. So 5 months in, I wouldn’t be able to afford to save anymore. (2 years into my 8, 1 year onto my 4).

Why are the poor poor? Because unless someone steps in and knocks down the societal hurdles, we don’t have a choice. Why do poor people buy lottery tickets? Because there’s a better chance of winning the money to help pull them out of poverty than there is to do it by hard work. Why do the poor buy cups of coffee and get tattoos instead of saving? Because what’s the point? Do you have any idea how helpless that feeling is? Then you feel guilty and ashamed when judgmental eyes look at your $50 tattoo and tell you that THAT is the reason you and your children deserve to suffer. You feel like you need to justify the $10 Goodwill Coach purse you carry because others see it and believe you’re exaggerating your circumstance. You’re either lying, or deserve it.

The rich want to believe that the poor are poor because they deserve it. Because if they acknowledged what it really is, they also have to admit that they’re okay with thriving while others are unfairly suffering. And that makes them uncomfortable. So it’s easier to just blame.

I am poor. My kids play sports, go to a private school, have new clothes and shoes at the beginning of the school year, and none of it was provided by me. Because I have people in my life that saw the value of my children and said, “I want to help”. My eyes swell up with tears when I think about what I would do if I didn’t have kind people in my life. Because I know you’re out there. All you that are suffering without a support system. I want to help you so bad. I want somebody to help you. I feel your pain, I feel your anxiety. I am so sorry we live in a country where you are demonized and told you deserve to suffer. You do not deserve to suffer. Your kids do not deserve to suffer. You deserve so mich better than this.

Why are the poor poor? If you are not poor, you need to be okay with being uncomfortable and do something. You need to stop blaming and start asking how you can help. Perpetual poverty happens when you can’t afford the necessities. Do you feel the Necessities in life a privilege or a right? Do you believe that someone’s financial circumstance equates their worth? Your complacency is hurting people.

If you throw a big enough stink, the answers still no.

Not too long ago I had a conversation with someone about her teenage son. Just normal teenage irritation, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

We get a lot of snow in Michigan. This woman bought a new snowblower right before we had a major lake effect snow day. Her son, very eager to use this new machine, offered to clear the driveway. She told him no. She wanted to look at it first. She had a friend coming over to show her how to use it, and he could show her son too.

Her son lost it. Full 17 year old temper tantrum. He felt that he could figure it out and should be allowed to. She maintained her no. More huffing and puffing and swearing about it.

She called her friend and they decided to wait on him coming over since her son was throwing a fit all around the house. Her friend told her that was best. But she needed to realize that even though she’s not wrong to say no, on the guy side of it, her son probably felt emasculated.

She carried on with her reasoning. It’s a expensive piece of equipment and she doesn’t want it to end up broken. She wants to make sure she got the right one. It’s her home and she is allowed to say no. And so on.

I finally told her, it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t owe anyone an explanation. While it’s nice to give a reason, it really comes down to, she owns it. She gets to decide how and when it’s used. She can decide to put the snowblower on her roof for decoration if she wants. As the owner of the house and the snowblower, she gets to make those calls. He felt emasculated? Who effing cares. Since when does a 17 year old boy’s fragile ego take priority over his parent’s very direct “no”?

That’s the thing. We live in a world where it does. Woman, very often, have to cater to grown men’s fragile egos on a daily basis. Like, constantly. In the home, in the workplace, in social situations, everywhere we go we have to worry about threatening men’s masculinity.

He threw a fit over a no. He threw himself around the house yelling and making his anger know. Because a woman told him no to something he wanted to do. Has he been told no before? Absolutely. Will he be told no again? Absolutely.

I reassured her that not only did she do the right thing by cancelling, but it was imperative that she stuck with it. Her son will be told no at college parties. He will be told no by professors. He will be told know by bosses. He will be told no. And some will be woman.

What will he do when he has a “great idea” at work, and his female boss cuts him of and tells him she doesn’t care. Will he just do as asked? Or will he throw a fit because “if she would just listen to his idea…”

What will happen when he’s out at a party and flirting with a girl and he wants her to come with him and she says no? Will be be respectful? Or will he corner or force her?

I do not give an eff about your manliness. I care about the females that have to work with you. I care about your female boss who can’t get you to do your job the way she asks without question. I care about the young women you meet at a party or the ones that decide to date you. I care about your future wife and daughters.

This mom didn’t need me to tell her all that. She had already given the no and stuck by it. But I wanted her to hear out loud what every woman knows internally. That it is imperative for woman in authoritative roles to stand strong when males push back in anger. I wanted to reassure her. I wanted her to know that her decision wasn’t hurting her son’s manhood, and was exactly what he needed.

We need to have these conversations. We need to talk to other women. We need to call it out to men when we see it. Their need for having a protected masculinity is a myth used to keep women in a position of inferiority.

You’re fragile ego is not more important than my right to say no. If a female gives you a no and it makes you angry, you are suffering from toxic masculinity and I recommend you see a therapist to discuss what steps you need to take to fix this defect of entitlement that is plaguing you.

Hi. I am Beth. And I’m a toxic person.

One of my favorite things that social media and technology has brought to my generation is its ability to help us cope, understand, and process dysfunction and toxicity that is in our lives. I see it all the time. People in my age group properly able to identify unhealthy behavior in themselves and in others. That doesn’t mean they necessarily know how to deal with it, but they can identify it. Which is a huge step.

A few weeks back I had a friend say to me, “I feel like I’m gaslighting them! I didn’t even realize I was doing it. They deserve better than that.” My friend was 100% serious and concerned about it. The self awareness this person has in their 30s is astounding to me. They are toxic. They know they are. And they are able to zero in on exactly what they are doing that is dysfunctional, and even tell me why they think they are like this. 

I am a toxic person. I have the potential to suck out all the life of a person. I can manipulate. I can read people and very quickly know what they are insecure about. I can sense vulnerability and dysfunction like a freaking superpower. I can also tell when a person is emotionally healthy. I can feel boundaries that are set (or not set) almost immediately after meeting someone. My comfort zone is filled with toxic interactions and unhealthy behaviors. 

I sound like a gem, eh? Well, I think I am. Not because that stuff doesn’t matter. Because I fight that stuff EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Ask anyone who knew me in my 20s. Talk to my exes. I was not a bad person. But I was broken. The adult I was trying to be was not one on a healthy path. It was one who used white lies, cheated, and manipulated to get my way. I didn’t want to be like that. I did not like seeing the ones I loved hurt by me. 

I started seeing a therapist. I started making a conscious effort. I had to learn how to purge the toxicity from my interactions. It sucked. It was hard. No…not was. It is hard. I find when I’m with other people working on themselves, or people that are emotionally stable, it is easy. I can relax and just be. But the moment someone with dysfunction enters my life, I want to retreat to my ever so toxic comfort zone. I can feel it. I can hear it in what I say. I leave feeling angry at myself. Ashamed. 

I like to cut people in their 20s some slack. That decade is such a shit hole anyways. Add in having to process through childhood/adolescence and you’re left with some pretty lost adults who are trying to sort through 2 decades of preparation for adulthood. It’s exhausting and can be overwhelming. But once you’re in your 30s, get your shit together. You have had over a decade of making your own choices. At this point, your life is what you have made it. Acknowledge what you’ve been through and grow. 

I am a toxic person. I have to know this always. I have to understand and be compassionate to those who distance themselves from me. I have to work 10x as hard to make sure I keep my toxicity from my children. I need to make sure my children find dysfunction uncomfortable and wrong. I have to make sure I guard myself from others who take me by the hand and try to lead me down to that place I’ve escaped from. I need to acknowledge what brought me to this point, but not dwell on it, blame does not add to my growth. I need to know that when I do slip up, I tell whoever I hurt I was wrong and they deserve better. 

If you are a toxic person, you are not a bad person. Every day, every interaction, you have a choice to do better, to be better. Find a therapist. (I know I know, therapist shopping is the WORST. But don’t settle for one that isn’t helping you.) Start working on rewiring yourself. Your life will be happier. Your relationships will be better. You will thrive. 

Bringing it down to the Basics

It was 2011. I was newly divorced, in school full time, working as many hours as I could get, and raising 3 kids. Looking back, it’s almost comical that I thought I could have an organized house as well. 

“What do you need?” My friend Kris asked me. She had come over with the intention to clean/organize/help. I was drowning in my life and I desperately needed someone to throw me a lifesaver. 

“I don’t know. I mean. I guess the toys. I can’t think because there is so much everywhere. The toys go there. Top drawer is dolls. Second is dress up. Bottom draws is everything else. I don’t know. They’re all mixed up.” I told her showing her my organizer. “And art stuff goes here. Paper in this drawer, crayons and markers in this one, and the other stuff in that one.”

“No. That’s too much. You need to simplify it. How about toys here, and art stuff here.”

“But. Everything has a place. I just…”

“What a your goal? What do you want in here?”

“I want the toys off the floor. I want to walk through my house without stepping on stuff.”

“Beth. The girls can help. They need to. You can’t do it all, so we need to find a way that is simple. So the kids can do it.”

I had to let go of some control. Here’s the thing, (for those who don’t know how it is to function with ADHD) I have to be that uptight about things. Chaos around me gives anxiety. I forget things. I lose things. Everything has a place, because otherwise, nothing has a place. 

So I changed the rules. Instead if having such strong stipulations on where the kids put the toys, I just made sure they were put away. It worked. The kids didn’t feel overwhelmed with helping. So I started simplifying other aspects of my life. 

Sorting socks? Nope. I don’t have time. My goal is to have clean socks when we need them. Boom. New rule, sock basket. All the clean socks in the house are in there. Find your own. While thes things were not ideal for my house, I found the amount of stress that was lifted was definitely worth letting go. 

Sometimes, when I feel overwhelmed, I like to bring it down the the basics. Not forever, just for long enough to gain some perspective. Not just with household chores, but with friendships, parenting, work, and everything else. 

Parenting. What is the goal? I’m sure your response would be something about love, or God, or kindness, or being strong or something like that. No. Those are not the goals. Those are the personal details you have set for what are actually the goals. 

There are 2 things your kid needs from you. Two. Taking it to The basics. These 2 things are the backbone of why you make any and all decisions regarding your kids. And if they’re not, you need to reevaluate your motives in parenting.

The first, let them keep their innocence as long as possible. We protect them from the horrors of the world so that they can develop into who they are truly meant to be. Life has a way of hardening us. Our children need to keep the tenderness, and awe for life and the world as long as possible.

The second, produce functional adults. Our children need to be able live and function in society someday. We cannot shelter them forever. They need to be able to socialize. They need to be able to work a job. They need to be able to keep themselves safe when you’re not there. They need to be able to think and make choices. 
These goals sound contradictory. You can see why teenage years are so tough. Constantly trying to balance protecting our teen while at the same time knowing in a few short years they need to be able to function in the world. 

Now, what is your definition of innocence? What do you consider a functioning adult? This is where our parenting styles come into play. We make choices every day with these in mind. “No, sorry, Sally isn’t allowed to sleep over until she’s older.” Or “Rinse your bowl.” Or “Sure, Jimmy can definitely go out with his friends after the game.” Based on our childhoods, usually, we decide what we will or will not do with our kids. 

If you are an overwhelmed parent, bring it to the basics. Ask yourself, is this helping them keep their innocence or helping them develop into a functioning adult? If it doesn’t fit one of those 2 things, quit fretting about it. Quit being angry about it. Quit wearing yourself down over it. 

Someday I will sort socks again. And you know what? The toys in my house are now sorted. The art stuff all has a place. It took 7 years, but I got it back slowly. Just because it’s not ideal, doesn’t mean it’s bad. My house is a disaster. Why? Because I want the kids to help clean. And honestly, they don’t do a great job. My kids need a mom who helps show them. Not a mom who yells and shames them. 

You know what your kids need. You know what type of adult you hope they become (or possibly one you don’t want them to become). Have a little faith in yourself. Take a deep breathe, and let go. 

I’m a 31 Year Old Toddler

Today, my mind keeps wandering. Usually when I sit down to write out a blog, it’s because of an occurrence that sparked my mind to come to some sort of epiphany type moment. Not today. Today I keep thinking about something I have already written about. So I reread a blog post I wrote a long time ago.

http://wp.me/p4Wgjj-H

I knew after my dad died a part of me died too. I knew it would be traumatic. I knew I would have to watch each family member of mine deal with the old them die away. I knew, with the amount of disfunction in my family, that there would be lashing out, mistakes made, comfort given, frustrations voiced, and tears shed. For over a year now, I have watched every person I love go through the emotional “rehab” that comes after a life altering occurrence. Some of them have watched parts of themselves die before. They are usually more self aware of what’s happening. Some have never experienced loss like this, and are new to it. But no matter which they are, they died that day too.

Self awareness. I mention this a lot. To me, being self aware is one of the most important parts of humanity. To look at a reoccurring problem and be able to just KNOW why you react that way, or what your limits are, is the only way to grow. I am self aware. I become bitter easily. I care what people think of me. I have image issues with my appearance. I play mental games with myself when I know I should/shouldn’t do something to try to justify doing what I want, and then regret it. I know me. Well, I know the old me. Still learning the new me.

It’s a helpless feeling. To watch those close to you struggle to learn themselves again, and know there’s nothing you can do to help, because you are going through it too. I feel like we’re a family of toddlers. Stumbling around, trying to learn how to walk and talk. Have you ever seen how different, yet the same toddlers are? Some go off by themselves to cry when they get frustrated, some throw a screaming fit at the grocery store. Some wait for guidance when they don’t know how to do something, some scream “I do it!” and end up making it worse. But they all have something in common. They can see what they need/want, but haven’t quite mastered their ability to communicate it. They have no control of their emotions and don’t know convay what they’re feeling, which makes them overreact and look quite irrational.

So how do we get through this toddler stage? With love and patience, boundaries, and if need be, a swat on the bottom.

This last summer, I was that kid that who decided to sneak into the candy and then started running in circles all over the place. And guess what, I slammed right into a wall. It hurt. I cried…a lot. Thankfully, I had people in my life to help wipe the tears as I calmed myself down. (To clarify for those not in my personal life, I went out a lot and became pregnant, unplanned). So now I’m in timeout. Nobody to blame but myself. Life said, you need to calm down and I protested that “it’s not fair!”.

As I grow out of the toddler stage of this Beth, I feel relief. I watch my family members, and know they will too. I can’t predict or stop their tantrums, meltdowns, or confusion. It’s just going to happen. All I can do is wipe their tears when life puts them in timeout, and let them learn their new limits and abilities on their own. Do you know what the best part of going through a “toddler stage” is? The next stage is the magical stage. Watch a 3-4 year old. Everything is exciting, new, and magical. Princesses and superheroes. Overwhelming joy over bubbles. Feeling proud of your coloring skills. Excitement over new friends. I am so ready for that stage.