Choose your words carefully

I pride myself on being a work in progress, though I am also fine just the way I am.  The past few months, I have been working with a new process that helps get to the root of my limiting beliefs, processes them and resets the thought patterns.  It is in this work that I found myself returning to a time in my life I would prefer to forget.  

I grew up in a small rural community that was predominantly settled by people of one religion.  That is to say that when I got on the school bus in Kindergarten, I was the only child in my K-9 school that was not that religion.  While I am sure my dad had to deal with the same types of situations that his children were later subjected to, he chose to raise us in the same place he was born and raised.  

For years (and I mean YEARS as I am now 40), I have had a heart-stopping moment every single time a text or email came to me or my phone rang.  This happened at home and at work. I never understood it and found it frustrating.  I would literally hold my breath when opening an email or text and pray it wasn't bad.  You see, I was always expecting it to be someone mad at me or that they were going to tell me something that they didn't like about me or that I did wrong.  Today, I remembered the source of that heart-stopping fear that has been ongoing for 31 years.

As I went through my K-9 years, I had a few kids that would be nice to me from time to time.  Some that would even try to be my friend for awhile.  One in particular, was the daughter of one of my dad's friends through school and while they, too, were of the same religion, that must have given her more tolerance for us outsiders (her brothers were also good to my sister and brother).  Then there was a gal who moved in that came from a community where she was an outcast due to the opposite reason as mine, then another 2 non-church families moved to town.  This made it easier to have some friends, but I always felt on the verge of being cast out until high school when I moved to a different school with a bit more diversity.  

I remember a time in Grade 3 when I accidentally said oh my God and was absolutely annihilated by my classmates that were in the room at recess when I did it.  However, that wasn't the trigger of my decades of fear and worry about opening a text or email.  That happened in Grade 4.  I had been hanging out with one of the girls in the class and she had invited me over a couple times for a sleepover.  Apparently, that didn't sit well with someone else in the class.  She penned a very nasty note of hate - I remember that word being in there a number of times.  I also remember her telling me that I was stupid, poor and nobody liked me and that this other girl was only pretending because she had felt sorry for me, but she no longer wanted to hang out with me either.  The whole thing oozed meanness and hatrid for my perceived difference.  My only crime was to be born to a family that did not participate in the same religion as everyone else at my school.

The point of this is not a pity party - I don't want that or expect that.  What I want is to share this as a learning opportunity.  The old sticks and stones saying?  Bull shit.  Words stay with you for a long time.  Words can hurt for a long time.  Words can cause someone to have anxiety, to go into depression, to commit suicide.  WORDS HAVE POWER.  Choose your words carefully.  Teach your kids to choose their words carefully.  I guarantee that young girl has no idea that she wreaked havoc on the last 31 years of my life.  She probably only has a vague recollection of me, if any.  However, she broke my heart and she caused me to live in irrational fear for so many years.  She made me believe I was worthless and unworthy of love.  All from a one-page handwritten note put on my desk in Grade 4.

We need to choose compassion and kindness.  As a species, we need to treat each other better.  We need to look past the outside trappings of race, class, gender and see the soul on the inside.  There is so much hate and meanness - you have only to breeze through your social media feeds to see it.  "Be the change you wish to see in the world" as Gandhi says.  It can start with each of us.  

I knew that when I was working on this issue that it was meant to be a lesson, not just for me, but for me to share with others to encourage a different way of thinking.  To encourage us to talk to our kids about what they say to someone in a Snapchat picture, text message, Kik, Facebook, Twitter and more.  It takes very few words to impact someone's whole life and outlook on themselves.  Why not make that impact positive?  

Mother of an adult child? I am not ready for this :(

It has been a long time since I blogged and this isn't some highly controversial topic, so whether it gets read or not will remain to be seen.  To be honest, if it doesn't, it's okay with me as I am writing this one for me.

Today is a momentous day in our lives.  Our first born child turns 18.  That means he is now an adult.  No longer a child.  So what? He's only a day older than yesterday, right?  True, but so much changes with the stroke of midnight on the first legal birthday.

All of a sudden, he can vote.  He can go to the bar (in Alberta, anyhow).  He can get married without my permission.  He can get a tattoo without my permission.  Borrow money (from someone other than us).  His taxes go up.  He starts paying into government programs that he will likely never get to use.  It's all just a little too much for me to wrap my head around.

This is all mixed up with immense pride at how far he has come.  How he has grown from tiny baby of 7lbs 10oz to 135lbs of man (that just does NOT seem right - man???)?  How can it possibly be 18 years since we were in the hospital in Lacombe dealing with awful back labour and every doctor, intern, nurse and random guy off the street was popping in to check the expansion of my nether regions?  How can it be 18 years ago since members of both sides of the family were sitting in the waiting room waiting on news of the first grandchild on either side of the family (for my mom on my side at least)?  

 Why does all of this looking back make me want to bawl my eyes out?  It's not like we have raised a serial killer or I am concerned about him being a deadbeat or that I think he's going to be living a lonely, sad existence.  I am not.  He has good morals, he is a hard worker, he's smart, he's so kind and genuine, he has good taste in friends and in girlfriends and he is good to his family.  All of these are things for hubby and I to be proud of.  From our own early days as a young married couple without a clue what to do with this baby we had planned for to today with a really good life - we managed to raise a smart, kind, loyal, able-bodied, funny, genuine young man.  So, why the sadness?  Why the aching heart?  Why the tears?

Here's what I think.  I think that it is all a little too much, too soon.  I mean, from the time they are born, we are always thinking about how we can't wait until they say mama or dada and we can't wait til they walk, can't wait til they go to school, can't wait til they go out into the world... The fact is, we wish away so much time.  Even if we are enjoying the moment, we are still wishing for the next big milestone.  Well, one of them is here right now and I don't like it.  I don't want it to be time yet.  I am not ready.  Dammit, I AM NOT READY.

It's not that I feel old.  I don't care about my age.  I am still alive, I am in pretty good health, I have a good life.  It is just a number.  What I feel is sad.  I wish I could go back and slow those moments down.  That I would have hugged him a little longer, snuggled with him a few more times.  I wish I could put into words how full my heart is of love and pride.  I wish that I hadn't wished so much away. I feel like I just want to go back in time and start again.  Chances are, if we did, we would screw it up, but I am just not ready to be done with my job.  Our daughter is probably going to hate me because I will be needing to feel like I have to hang on to her a bit tighter and smother her a bit more for the next 2 1/2 years.

The hardest thing I ever did in my life aside from saying goodbye to my grandmother what I felt was 20 years too early, was leaving our boy in Alberta when we moved.  In a sense, he has been an adult since July 20, 2017 as he has been on his own since then.  But this sort of finalizes it.  It is sort of like someone has taken a machete to the last invisible remnants of the umbilical cord and sliced it away.  For as much as I am proud and full of love and hope and happiness for his future, I am sad that 18 years went by so fast.

Take my advice... Hold onto the moments.  Don't wish away time.  Don't wish that you had more time to go on vacation, that you had more time to read and do all the things YOU want to do.  Just embrace the little moments, celebrate the big ones and do yourself and your kids a favour and be present.  Get off your phone.  Get them off theirs.  Take pictures but don't get so busy taking pictures that you forget to enjoy the memories your are capturing.  Hug them a little longer than is comfortable for them.  When they want to snuggle, don't brush them off because you have stuff to do.  The stuff will wait.  And in the end, if you are like me, even if you do all of that, you are still going to wish you had done more.  You are going to think that it went by too fast.

We only get them for a short time even though it may seem like forever when you first feel that nudge of life within you.  They should never doubt they are loved by their parents... EVER.

He's 18 today.  My heart is full, so are my eyes.  It went by too fast.  I am so not ready for this, but it's not about me anymore, it's all him.  I know he's going to do great things and make his mark in this world.  I hope he just remembers once in awhile to call his mom.  To tell her he loves her.  To come home to visit.  To snuggle on the couch like we used to, even when he's 40.

Who would have thought this would be such a bittersweet day?  I am just so not ready for this...