I think it would be easier to tell you what's not in my closet. My closet hides everything. I'm not a super neat person, never have been. Most of the clothes in my closet are not even ones that I wear. All my clean clothes are usually still in the laundry basket and dwindles down as the days go by. I hold onto things because I think, maybe one day I'll fit into that again. I also have a box full of drawings that The Monkey and Little One have made for me. I just don't have the heart to throw some of these things out. I have keepsakes, from 20 years ago on the top shelf. It's also the place I put things that I take away from the kids.
I've always envied those closets that are so organized and put together so nicely. I try to do that but then my old patterns keep coming back. Can't teach an old dog new tricks I suppose.
I'd like to think that would change if I ever had tow hate a closet but then I'd probably just end up overtaking it all anyways.
Oh well.
Sunday, 9 February 2014
Sunday, 19 January 2014
Sunday Confession #Insecurities
Oh boy. What can I write about insecurities that doesn't take up all day?
As a little girl growing up in an emotionally abusive household, I have enough insecurities about myself that could fill my house.
My weight is an issue, even when I was at my smallest, I still felt huge.
Now, I'm bigger than I would like and it affects every aspect of my life.
I feel ugly. I hate my hair, my skin, my everything. Who wants an ugly, fat, single mom of 4?
That's what goes through my head on a daily basis.
And that's the demon I have to fight on a daily basis.
I care way too much about what other people think of me. Sometimes I won't even speak because I worry about what they will say or think. I know not everyone is going to like who I am and I can tell myself that over and over until I choke on those words but that sense of dread is always present.
I remember being pregnant with Little One and throwing myself at my ex because I just wanted him to touch me. He would spend the night watching porn and talking to whatever girl he had on the side and I would be in my room silently crying myself to sleep. It took a very long time to find my sterner and kick him out. That was probably the strongest thing I did in my whole life.
I don't want to hate myself. I don't want to be that girl I was, crying in the dark, hoping noone will hear me.
I've come a long way from her, but I know I still have a long road ahead of me.
As a little girl growing up in an emotionally abusive household, I have enough insecurities about myself that could fill my house.
My weight is an issue, even when I was at my smallest, I still felt huge.
Now, I'm bigger than I would like and it affects every aspect of my life.
I feel ugly. I hate my hair, my skin, my everything. Who wants an ugly, fat, single mom of 4?
That's what goes through my head on a daily basis.
And that's the demon I have to fight on a daily basis.
I care way too much about what other people think of me. Sometimes I won't even speak because I worry about what they will say or think. I know not everyone is going to like who I am and I can tell myself that over and over until I choke on those words but that sense of dread is always present.
I remember being pregnant with Little One and throwing myself at my ex because I just wanted him to touch me. He would spend the night watching porn and talking to whatever girl he had on the side and I would be in my room silently crying myself to sleep. It took a very long time to find my sterner and kick him out. That was probably the strongest thing I did in my whole life.
I don't want to hate myself. I don't want to be that girl I was, crying in the dark, hoping noone will hear me.
I've come a long way from her, but I know I still have a long road ahead of me.
Tuesday, 14 January 2014
My little one
Today my little one turns 5. He is now a whole hand. My tiny little boy, who still fits size 3 clothing, is growing so fast. Too fast it seems.
Giving birth to him seems like it wasn't that long ago, but in truth it has been exactly 5 years. How did that happen?
Perhaps this is more bittersweet for me because he is my last. My body will no longer grow a child. I will no longer get those newborn snuggles, steal those first kisses or hear mommy for the first time ever.
Not that I'm hoping it would have happened again, I'm quite content with my 4 boys.
But my baby is no longer a baby. He will be starting school.
I can already see the changes in him.
How did he grow so big? How did he get so smart?
Why does it feel as though in just a blink, my boy changed so much?
5 years ago, my doctor placed a tiny, blonde haired, wrinkly little boy on my chest. I wrapped my arms around him for the first time. I kissed his nose, his cheeks, his fingers and toes. I explored every inch of his round little body, feasting my eyes upon my son. MY son. I brought him up to my heart and he curled right in as though he knew that's exactly where he belonged. And he hasn't left.
If my whole life could be defined in moments, just little moments, where I knew without a doubt that what I did mattered, this would be one of them. The day he came into this world.
Happy birthday to an incredibly gentle and loving and beautiful soul. My heart will always be yours.
Giving birth to him seems like it wasn't that long ago, but in truth it has been exactly 5 years. How did that happen?
Perhaps this is more bittersweet for me because he is my last. My body will no longer grow a child. I will no longer get those newborn snuggles, steal those first kisses or hear mommy for the first time ever.
Not that I'm hoping it would have happened again, I'm quite content with my 4 boys.
But my baby is no longer a baby. He will be starting school.
I can already see the changes in him.
How did he grow so big? How did he get so smart?
Why does it feel as though in just a blink, my boy changed so much?
5 years ago, my doctor placed a tiny, blonde haired, wrinkly little boy on my chest. I wrapped my arms around him for the first time. I kissed his nose, his cheeks, his fingers and toes. I explored every inch of his round little body, feasting my eyes upon my son. MY son. I brought him up to my heart and he curled right in as though he knew that's exactly where he belonged. And he hasn't left.
If my whole life could be defined in moments, just little moments, where I knew without a doubt that what I did mattered, this would be one of them. The day he came into this world.
Happy birthday to an incredibly gentle and loving and beautiful soul. My heart will always be yours.
Sunday, 12 January 2014
Sunday Confession #ThingsIdointheshower
I love the shower. I tend to have mine at night more than anything. I could and usually do spend a lot of time in there. There's something about the hot water running over my head and body that is very relaxing to me. The hotter, the better.
Besides the usual hair and body washing and shaving of bits, I like to just lean against the wall (I have a very tiny shower stall--only big enough to fit 2 people) and let the water run over me.
I sometimes have music on because I love to sing and somehow the water drowns out the horrible screeching of my voice to others.
Other times I like it quiet, because in a house of 4 boys, it's never quiet.
But mostly, I love staying in the shower because it's an escape for me. I can lock the door, step into the heat, and wash away all troubles and stresses and dirt that has leeched onto me. For 30 mins (that's usually how long the hot water lasts) I can drown it all out and come out refreshed.
Sometimes, I like to share that experience with another.
How do you think I know that my shower stall can fit 2 people? ;)
Besides the usual hair and body washing and shaving of bits, I like to just lean against the wall (I have a very tiny shower stall--only big enough to fit 2 people) and let the water run over me.
I sometimes have music on because I love to sing and somehow the water drowns out the horrible screeching of my voice to others.
Other times I like it quiet, because in a house of 4 boys, it's never quiet.
But mostly, I love staying in the shower because it's an escape for me. I can lock the door, step into the heat, and wash away all troubles and stresses and dirt that has leeched onto me. For 30 mins (that's usually how long the hot water lasts) I can drown it all out and come out refreshed.
Sometimes, I like to share that experience with another.
How do you think I know that my shower stall can fit 2 people? ;)
Sunday, 5 January 2014
Sunday Confession #Regrets
Regret.
I have been chewing on that word for a very long time.
It's bittersweet in my mouth because for some of my big regrets there also came something wonderful.
On the surface I can say so easily, I regret that decision but then when I really dig deep down, right to the bloody core of it, I can see slivers of beauty intertwined all throughout.
Regret of being with my ex is laced with every smile, every tear, every hug, every moment with my little one.
But there are things I do truly wish that I could go back and do over.
I regret not standing up for myself and for others.
I regret not speaking up because I was too afraid that I would be unliked.
I regret not showing those closest to me how much I was really hurting.
I regret not fighting when I should have.
That's a big one. I'm not a fighter. I hate conflict.
I would rather hide my head in the sand instead of face something head on.
My regrets are my armor and I think it's about time I take it all off.
I have been chewing on that word for a very long time.
It's bittersweet in my mouth because for some of my big regrets there also came something wonderful.
On the surface I can say so easily, I regret that decision but then when I really dig deep down, right to the bloody core of it, I can see slivers of beauty intertwined all throughout.
Regret of being with my ex is laced with every smile, every tear, every hug, every moment with my little one.
But there are things I do truly wish that I could go back and do over.
I regret not standing up for myself and for others.
I regret not speaking up because I was too afraid that I would be unliked.
I regret not showing those closest to me how much I was really hurting.
I regret not fighting when I should have.
That's a big one. I'm not a fighter. I hate conflict.
I would rather hide my head in the sand instead of face something head on.
My regrets are my armor and I think it's about time I take it all off.
Tuesday, 31 December 2013
Cheers!
Do people even really make resolutions anymore? I know we all wish for better health, lost weight, more money, love... all the major things and/or problems that we would like to either change or fix about ourselves.
But why do we need to make a yearly wish to be someone different? Why can't our resolutions be more about what we give out to the world? How we treat others? How we are treated? How we can set good examples for the children who will inherit everything?
I try so hard to teach my boys values and respect. But its hard when all around you, not one of those values are being displayed. I suppose, when the boys do witness a shining star of an example of the values I am trying to instill in them, it is a greater lesson learned because they know that it is a rare occurrence.
I witness kids disrespecting their parents, disrespecting each other and those around them. I see them run across the street on a green light and then yell and scream at the driver *who could have hit them* who had the right of way all along. I see young boys calling each other fags and idiots, kicking in front doors or walls or each other and say they are only "playing around" I see young girls calling each other bitches and whores and not truly understanding what it is they are saying. I refuse to allow my boys to have an ask.fm account because it is full of bullies telling each other to kill themselves or to rate the kids in their classes according to who they would kill, date or marry. ( Kill? Seriously? This baffles me) Constant reminders that others think they are not good enough or pretty enough. It breaks my heart to see children using such hateful words to each other.
And I know I'm a hypocrite for shaking my head at these kids because I have called my friends bitches and whores.The difference though, is that I am not purposely trying to hurt someone.
I know bullying has been around for a very long time so this isn't new; and there are people who are trying to end it, to give kids a fighting chance at being happy. We have lost too many already. But its changed. It's morphed into this great force that people have a hard time fighting or even really noticing.
I feel relieved to have all boys honestly. Its scary to have them go into middle school and be rated by how they look, how they dress, how they act. My boys aren't considered "popular" Girls don't chase them, don't talk about how "cute" they are. But they aren't considered "geeks" either. They have found their own little spots in their school world and have made some really good friends. And, I hope, they know that they are just as important as anyone else around them. Just as good looking, just as special and just as worth a chance at life as everyone else.
So this year, instead of wishing to be skinny (bc lets face it, I'm fat and would love to lose weight) or rich (don't we all?) or happier (smiles are so much nicer than frowns), I'm going to try to make sure that I give out what I would like to see in return.
Cheers to integrity, cheers to respect, and cheers to leaving a world that our children can be proud of!
But why do we need to make a yearly wish to be someone different? Why can't our resolutions be more about what we give out to the world? How we treat others? How we are treated? How we can set good examples for the children who will inherit everything?
I try so hard to teach my boys values and respect. But its hard when all around you, not one of those values are being displayed. I suppose, when the boys do witness a shining star of an example of the values I am trying to instill in them, it is a greater lesson learned because they know that it is a rare occurrence.
I witness kids disrespecting their parents, disrespecting each other and those around them. I see them run across the street on a green light and then yell and scream at the driver *who could have hit them* who had the right of way all along. I see young boys calling each other fags and idiots, kicking in front doors or walls or each other and say they are only "playing around" I see young girls calling each other bitches and whores and not truly understanding what it is they are saying. I refuse to allow my boys to have an ask.fm account because it is full of bullies telling each other to kill themselves or to rate the kids in their classes according to who they would kill, date or marry. ( Kill? Seriously? This baffles me) Constant reminders that others think they are not good enough or pretty enough. It breaks my heart to see children using such hateful words to each other.
And I know I'm a hypocrite for shaking my head at these kids because I have called my friends bitches and whores.The difference though, is that I am not purposely trying to hurt someone.
I know bullying has been around for a very long time so this isn't new; and there are people who are trying to end it, to give kids a fighting chance at being happy. We have lost too many already. But its changed. It's morphed into this great force that people have a hard time fighting or even really noticing.
I feel relieved to have all boys honestly. Its scary to have them go into middle school and be rated by how they look, how they dress, how they act. My boys aren't considered "popular" Girls don't chase them, don't talk about how "cute" they are. But they aren't considered "geeks" either. They have found their own little spots in their school world and have made some really good friends. And, I hope, they know that they are just as important as anyone else around them. Just as good looking, just as special and just as worth a chance at life as everyone else.
So this year, instead of wishing to be skinny (bc lets face it, I'm fat and would love to lose weight) or rich (don't we all?) or happier (smiles are so much nicer than frowns), I'm going to try to make sure that I give out what I would like to see in return.
Cheers to integrity, cheers to respect, and cheers to leaving a world that our children can be proud of!
Monday, 30 December 2013
An Inside view
My whole life, I've never really been the type to open up about certain things. I can count on one hand how many people know truly everything about me, and even they are missing some information.
The one thing I always had though was my writing. Ever since I can remember, I've had diaries, journals, blogs...
But they have always been private, for the most part. Not even my mom has read them. And there are some pretty dark and terrifying passages that would only hurt her if she did.
She knew of the abuse from my step father, to some extent. But there are still things I hide from her about it. I don't need her feeling guilty for something she could not control. She too, was also in her own kind of hell from him.
To this day, she can't think of or say his name without tears coming to her eyes.
She would just blame herself more if she knew.
And I like to think I came out of it pretty unscathed compared to what others have gone through. I don't call myself a victim because I don't feel like one. Not anymore. I feel as though, if I looked at myself that way, he would still have some sort of power over me.
I've struggled with depression for more than half my life. I viewed my love life as the way to define who I was. If someone loved me, it would prove my stepfather wrong. And because I never had what I wanted, I always thought myself a failure, which led to the depression. It was a vicious cycle that I allowed myself to be a part of.
Now, I have finally taken control of my life and my heart. I know who I am and what I want, more importantly, what I deserve. It’s a day by day process and I know I can fall so easily back into the depression that swallowed me whole last time. But I anchor myself to my boys and my love for them and they help me stay afloat.
What kind of world am I showing them if I am too afraid to step out into it? I am the window that those boys look through to see how to handle life and handle love, disappointment, sadness. They learn from me. And yet, I find myself learning from them.
I wrote a facebook post about a year ago that I think sums up where I am at.
The one thing I always had though was my writing. Ever since I can remember, I've had diaries, journals, blogs...
But they have always been private, for the most part. Not even my mom has read them. And there are some pretty dark and terrifying passages that would only hurt her if she did.
She knew of the abuse from my step father, to some extent. But there are still things I hide from her about it. I don't need her feeling guilty for something she could not control. She too, was also in her own kind of hell from him.
To this day, she can't think of or say his name without tears coming to her eyes.
She would just blame herself more if she knew.
And I like to think I came out of it pretty unscathed compared to what others have gone through. I don't call myself a victim because I don't feel like one. Not anymore. I feel as though, if I looked at myself that way, he would still have some sort of power over me.
I've struggled with depression for more than half my life. I viewed my love life as the way to define who I was. If someone loved me, it would prove my stepfather wrong. And because I never had what I wanted, I always thought myself a failure, which led to the depression. It was a vicious cycle that I allowed myself to be a part of.
Now, I have finally taken control of my life and my heart. I know who I am and what I want, more importantly, what I deserve. It’s a day by day process and I know I can fall so easily back into the depression that swallowed me whole last time. But I anchor myself to my boys and my love for them and they help me stay afloat.
What kind of world am I showing them if I am too afraid to step out into it? I am the window that those boys look through to see how to handle life and handle love, disappointment, sadness. They learn from me. And yet, I find myself learning from them.
I wrote a facebook post about a year ago that I think sums up where I am at.
Dear life,
Sometimes I forget to get back up after you have kicked me down. Often I just don’t want to, I need time to lick my wounds and heal the bruises. But eventually, I will stand back up, I will face you and I will push against all that that you throw at me.
Sometimes I forget to get back up after you have kicked me down. Often I just don’t want to, I need time to lick my wounds and heal the bruises. But eventually, I will stand back up, I will face you and I will push against all that that you throw at me.
Maybe I didn’t do things “the right way” But I’ve always been one to dance to my own beat.. as irritating as it is to those closest to me. I hope that I can still be a good role model to my boys. That they can see, that no matter what is thrown against them, all they need to do is get back up, to keep on going and to face life head on.
Maybe I’m too sensitive, or negative, or a lot of things at times, but I am strong. I know this now. And I will fight and I will win.
And I will. I know I will.
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