I'm one month into my "New Year's Intentions" and they are coming along beautifully. More has happened in one month than I had hoped for. These may not seem major, but they are personal majors. They are little things that I have slowly worked on for years that have seemed to be sealed off in the past few weeks. It feels refreshing; it feels new, it feels shiny.
I have always admired people that say no when they feel like it, with no excuse attached to it. People that speak up clearly and passionately when they feel something is wrong, even if no one else is, or if it is in argument to someone else. I have always wanted to cut or loosen ties to people who may have negative influence in my life.
I would say in the last several years I feel perfectly confident to argue my point on things. I also have learned when it is better to just leave it alone. It is indeed a game of "choose your battles". In the past year or so I have become completely comfortable saying "no", simply because I don't want to. The reason it took me so long was due to other's feelings. I'm a "nice girl". Nice girls do not wish to let anyone down or hurt anyone, even if it means doing things they don't care to do. That's real sweet and all, but I was ready to kick the shit out of the "nice girl" in me. I was sick of her. The key is to find the middle ground. I didn't want to kick the nice girl’s ass and then turn into a raging bitch. I'm nice, it's who I am.
This was a learning process. It is a lonely journey into who I was and who I would become. I wanted to be able to say no to things without following it up with apologies and explanations as to why I was saying no. It really isn't any one's business.
The process was much more than just learning to say no, it goes much deeper than that, and many more things have come to light through it. It was a process of knowing me well. Enjoying being alone, knowing when I felt like socializing and when I didn't feel like being with a group and being OK with that. It was also embracing and learning from the alone times that weren't so enjoyable.
The first few times you say no, people automatically think something is wrong with you. That you must not be feeling well or you must be going through something. I have learned that the more wonderful personal growth that you achieve, the more others around you tend to freak out. The changes in you are brilliant and they show, but people fear change and they fear to stand alone. Do not let these people stand in your way. That is part of it, don't worry about their feelings, and worry about yours! You feel fantastic, so keep it up! Let them talk, let them gossip about when they think is going on with you, just be happy your progress is showing. They just aren't at the right mind frame yet to grasp it, they just talk.
I have felt the feeling of being alone in many different forms. Whether it is initially a good feeling, or a bad one, it grows you. So no matter how devastating, unsure, or uncomfortable the alone made you feel, you bring something with you out of it.
My first memory of feeling alone was when my parents divorced. Sure it was a sad and confusing time in a 7 year old's life, but I hadn't felt alone until a fellow student had said "Your parents are getting a divorce! Oh my gosh!" They attitude these girls showed made me feel as if this was only happening to me. That I should feel ashamed. I felt dirty and awkward. No one else I knew had parents that were splitting up, let alone living with their father full time. I started to blink my eyes, really hard, often. It turned into a habit. A habit tangled in my nerves.
Just as I had started to feel better about the divorce, a daughter of a close family friend was over to play. I remember having a good time until in the middle of playing she asked me "So who do you like better now, your mom or your dad?" I was shocked by her question. I told her I loved both. She said "No, you need to pick one, which one is it?" I was horrified! Is this what I had to do being a child of divorce? I had to pick which parent I loved more? I couldn't bear to think about it, I didn't want to pick and I certainly didn't want to play with her anymore. I then started scrunching my nose up, often. It turned into a habit. A habit tangled in my nerves.
As most children do, I adjusted. By the time we moved to Stockton and I started the fourth grade, my blinking and scrunching were minimal. I don't really remember having that "new girl" feeling so it must have went well.
The summer before my senior year of high school we moved to Tracy. That was my next "alone time". Who has to move their senior year?! I was mad, and sad, and scared. I never really had trouble making friends, but I held onto the "I have friends, they are in Stockton" attitude, which stunted my friend making abilities a bit. There was always some guy who might offer me a ride home, or buy me a school burrito, but we all know why guys want to be friends with girls. You can imagine how much the girls liked me when they see the new girl getting rides home from the cute athletic boy. Eventually I adjusted, I made many friends and things were fine.
My next journey of alone was my first pregnancy. I was dating a guy for just a few months when I got pregnant. I was planning on breaking up with him. He was a nice guy, he was lovely to look at, but I just didn't think we were a fit. I stayed a little longer, again putting his feelings before mine. It only took about another month for me to see that I was going to leave for a reason. The right feelings were not there. He always treated me with respect and we had a good time together, it just wasn't long term. I wasn't scared of having a baby alone. I was 24, would be 25 when baby arrived. I had a decent job, I took care of myself and I felt liberated, I felt excited, I was full of positive energy and pregnancy hormones! My dad was a single father, he did it, and so could I.
This alone was different though. It was a positive alone. I enjoyed my pregnancy, I enjoyed that it was mine alone. I enjoyed that I could pick whatever name I wanted, and make decisions without including anyone else, I found joy in that. Sure, there were times I thought that it might be nice to share certain things with a significant other, but I had friends and family and I had myself. My best friend since middle school came to my appointment to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time, which is a day I will never forget.
My dad drove me to the hospital, my sister was there to help with my delivery and my mom and dad both showed up just moments after Logan was born to see their grandson. That was a very proud alone. An alone that was surrounded by support and love.
Once Logan was here it was us. Logan and I. My sweet little boy and his momma. We were an "us" and it was beautiful. It felt natural and pure. I soaked up every ounce of it I could. He was mine, mine alone.
For the first two years I didn't date. I wasn't sure how that all was supposed to work, dating with a child. It seemed like that lines would be fine and I didn't want to mess it up. I have to say I wasn't completely alone. I had somewhat of a companion. My high school boyfriend. We spent time together, we would go out, we would watch movies, we would talk, we were physical and we were friends. I did not, however, have a committed boyfriend to REALLY be there for me. I was fine with that for a while, as I was fine being alone and felt it was healthy for me to just figure out the mom thing with nothing else to get in the way.
I met my husband when Logan was two years old. It's like we were both who we had each hoped to find one day. There we were. My dad loved Louie right away. We moved quickly and it felt fine, it was just okay, it was right. We moved in together, we fell in love. Then dad got sick. He got cancer.
I was scared to death. I was not alone, I had support. I had Louie, and I had Louie's family. I had my family, I even had my dad. I did not feel alone until the morning he died. As I stood there with his hand in mine, watching him take his last breath and tears ran down my face so quickly that they collided into one another, I felt alone. His body was there, but he wasn't. My sister was standing just next to me, but I felt alone. I felt orphaned. I felt so many things that I was lost in them. When you are lost, you are alone. I continued to feel alone for at least 2 years. I was unable to laugh, unable to showcase my impressive sense of humor; I was unable to find joy in much at all. I was too scared to feel anything but sadness. What would that mean? If I showed joy would it mean it didn't hurt anymore? Wouldn't that mean I didn't care? I was angry. Angry and heartbroken are a dark lonely place. Every holiday, a breakdown, every one of my kids’ birthday parties, just before guests arrive, a breakdown. How can I enjoy anything? I am busy, busy feeling cheated and used. This isn't even taking to account the alone feeling that came with family arguments over touchy matters after death and other relationships changing. Not knowing how to keep them alive or what to do with them. It was all bitter and lonely.
One of the loneliest days I remember was just about a week after I had given birth to my daughter. It was my first day at home alone, with baby and big brother. Logan had already put a movie on for himself and everything I needed for baby was within reach. From that morning, through the next few months, I woke up every morning, alone and crying. I would look at her, and cry. I would then cry harder about the gilt I felt that I crying about dad and not rejoicing over my baby girl. Don't get me wrong. I actually find a lot of joy during the middle of the night feedings. I would get excited that it was just her and I awake as I nursed her. It was our own alone time, together. It was the morning, that reminded me that life goes on and my dad was not a part of it, and he was just a few weeks shy of seeing my baby girls beautiful face. The mornings were too much. That was a scary alone. I didn't live somewhere like I do now where I am surrounded by support. I knew my in-laws in town and that is it. I was alone. I did feel a strong tie to Logan, as if he were the only one who knew what pain I was in, he was missing his Papa. I also was led to believe that it was inappropriate for me to possibly upset him by talking about it, so I let him bring it up and I tried never to let him see me cry. I would change that if I could do it over. I needed to cry so bad, and not just alone in the shower or in bed over my newborn. I needed to cry and I needed people to hold me.
My next alone feeling was only uncomfortable for a short time. I took on a leadership position and quickly realized that leadership can be a lonely place. To be a good leader, you need to stand alone. You need to show your followers that they can trust to follow you, that you are brave to stand alone and lead the way. To be a good leader you must separate yourself from the group to avoid accusations of favoritism or cliquishness. I was not always treated like a part of the group, I was treated like the leader. You must take in all the issues and negativity and fix it without the whole group being aware that it is even going on. You must know how to talk to people clearly and respectfully. You must SHOW them how to spread compassion, not tell them. What started out as uncomfortable blossomed into great comfort. It felt like my favorite pair of heels that were perfectly broken in. I felt confident and secure in my decisions and in my leadership. I took extra care to think of individuals as pieces to the whole. It was a wonderful experience that I will always think fondly of.
My next alone was recent, and current. It is a fabulous alone. It is invigorating. The sun and moon feel brighter. I do what I want to do. I feel how I want to feel. I say what I need to say, and I cry if I need to cry, and people hold me. It is freeing and the feeling is addictive. Not everyone around me gets it, but they don't have to. It is for me, not them. This is a process and I've come a long way. There is a lot of road left to explore. I'm not changing, I'm simply growing. I don't let the silly little things interrupt my good vibes. I speak up about important things, and I ignore the unimportant things. I'm becoming a bit more disconnected, whether it is from Facebook, social groups, acquaintances, drama, and unnecessary "stuff". Simplicity is clean! I'm holding meaningful relationships dear to my heart and other relationships at a distance.
I'm gently putting my foot down to establish boundaries of all kinds. I'm still a nice girl; I'm just a nice girl who knows what she wants and will put her feelings before others. It’s been the most rewarding form of self-respect.
