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Going Home.

Literally yesterday I was sitting on my therapist’s couch crying about how ever since my mom died, I have nowhere to go that feels like “Going Home”.  My mom was my home. We didn’t need to be in the same house where I grew up, she was home. I have been craving the feeling of going home desperately.

My siblings do a pretty alright job of being my home, my place of comfort. I love them more than they could ever imagine, but it still wasn’t filling that void. You see, before my mom married a second time, we had a whole other place we called home. Blanco, Texas. I spent many many years in Blanco. I spent every other weekend, weeks in the summer, holidays… it was where my grandmother was. And that woman was my everything.

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There was another family next door. I spent every minute with them, they’d babysit me while my mom and grandmother were at work. Hell, believe it or not, at one point I even knew how to speak Spanish. (don’t ask me now, I can only tell you the bad words).

When my grandmother died almost 8 years ago, I stopped going home. Actually, when I turned 16 I stopped going home, choosing instead to meet her closer to my house at a restaurant for lunch. I couldn’t be bothered to spend weekends there anymore. I was sixteen and obviously far too busy. When she died, I craved home.

My mom would drive me to Blanco every once in a while and we’d slowly drive down the bumpy street and sit and stare at the houses. I’d try so hard to will myself to get out of the car and go talk to that family. I’d chicken out every time. For 8 years I have chickened out. Afraid they didn’t care about me anymore, didn’t really want to see me.

Tonight, on the drive home from spending a great day at my dad’s house, I drove through Blanco and Kiddo asked about the river the house is on. I said, “Mommy used to swim in that river when she was a little girl.” He said, “No. You didn’t. You can’t swim in that river.” Suddenly I just pulled the car over and turned around and said, “Oh yeah? I have some people that can tell you otherwise.” I took a deep breath and I drove to the house.

The man that was like a grandfather to me, taught me to ride a bicycle, taught me more than I could ever imagine, recognized me before I even got out of the car. He hadn’t seen me since I was probably 16, but that didn’t matter, he knew me. He told me he thinks about me all the time, misses me, loves me. Suddenly the whole family was outside with me, talking as if no time had passed. Sharing a thousand memories from our childhoods and laughing. I was home.

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I got to see my baby boy sit on the same steps I did, sit in the same chairs I did, run through the same fields I did. He felt at home, I could see it in him.  He usually plays shy around adults… tonight he didn’t. He dove right in.

In this moment, I am happy. In this moment, my craving to be home has been satisfied. In this moment, I’m praying they let me come up there a thousand times more.

Posted in Uncategorized

Disney Sounds Like A Beating.

ALRIGHT, EVERYBODY JUST CALM DOWN. I know how you guys get. I don’t need anyone coming at me in a fit of rage wearing whimsical mouse ears and stuff. Just hear me out. Also, it must be stated that I’ve never been to Disneyland/World/Cruise/Cult Headquarters.

I just don’t…get it? Maybe it’s because I didn’t go to Disney as a kid? That has to be it, because the idea of going as an adult just exhausts me. Okay, well to be fair, the idea of any theme park exhausts me. Kiddo has started to ask to go to Fiesta Texas (because we pass it daily) and I am still able to get away with telling him he’s too short to go. He doesn’t argue with it because he’s 4 and doesn’t know any better. But my day is going to come, y’all, and I’m terrified.

I’m not scared of the roller coasters and such… I hate… outdoors? I hate thousands of people sweating together outdoors and paying $20 for a drink. I just don’t get the appeal and I never have. I never even wanted to go to Fiesta Texas as a kid/teenager. We always had season passes and I only went like once a year. Such a waste of money. I told my mom it was a waste of money on me. She didn’t care. Whatever, man. NOT MY PROBLEM.

Anyways, so two of my thousand siblings went to Disney recently and came back a few days ago. My sister came over last night to have dinner and bring us the presents she got us and tell us all about the trip. So first, look at my awesome gift:

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She also got me a bath bomb that apparently has little Mickeys that come out of it when it’s in the water. You know, not terrifying at all. 

Okay, so unlike Fiesta Texas, Disney is open year ’round. Mmkay great. You could probably convince me to go in the winter… but then it’s like… one of my sister’s dinners was $70. SEVENTY DOLLARS. Look, I’m poor. And whatever you’re serving me better be filled with GOLD for $70.

Maybe it’s because I was more of a Nickelodeon kid. I used to dream of going to Universal and getting slimed. YOU KNOW WHAT? Universal DOESN’T EVEN DO THAT ANYMORE. WHAT KIND OF CRAP IS THIS? Also, maybe Mickey creeps me out a little bit.  Also, maybe I used to get a sick pleasure out of people being slimed randomly.

Now, that’s not to say I will never go to Disney. I’m sure I will eventually go. I’m sure it’s magical and everyone is happy and twirls and bursts into songs all day. I’m just saying… it sounds like a beating.

Also people in costumes that don’t talk creep me out. THEY CREEP ME OUT, Y’ALL. Okay, I’ll let it go. [Elsa would be proud]

I’M SORRY, DON’T YELL AT ME.

Unrelated – I’m going to do an ASK ME ANYTHING YouTube video! So if you’ve had anything serious/funny/random you’ve wanted to ask me….SHOOT! I’m excited. Have fun with it!

xo

Tab

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Messy Worthiness Tries Datebox!

Let me start by saying you can actually watch our adventure here!

Okay so! Charles and I subscribed to this monthly service called Datebox. [not sponsored]. We were looking to switch up our regular dating, which consists of us going to a movie and eating our weight in popcorn. I saw an advertisement for Datebox on Facebook and jumped right on that. Our first one came this week!

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I don’t think I have ever been so excited to “go” on a date with my hubs. We always just date while our kiddo is in school because we don’t want to drop money on a babysitter. If we stay in, we’re just on the couch watching TV and playing on our phones. We really needed to change our rut. I paid for a 3 month subscription, which I think averaged like $33 a box? Whatever, man. We were dropping way more than that on our movie dates.

Our box consisted of stuff to make homemade kettle corn, caramel apples, and apple cider together. And the “event” was an escape room game!! I was SO SO EXCITED! They even include a romantic Spotify soundtrack and conversation starters about your relationship together.

We loved it! It was so much fun doing something completely different than we normally do, literally something out of the box. I urge you to watch the YouTube video of us attempting this because frankly I believe that we are a hoot. We definitely would recommend this to you guys. I even bought a 3 month subscription as a gift for a friend’s wedding!

If you want $10 off your first box, leave me your email and I’ll send you a referral. Also, subscribe to my YouTube channel and let me know if you want more videos from me!

xo
Tab

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Your Business Gives Me Anxiety.

Listen, I’ve thought about writing this post for a very long time. I didn’t, because I know it can be taken the very wrong way and I don’t want that. In no way am I saying that you shouldn’t sell what you believe in or do what makes you happy. That is definitely not what I’m saying. What I am saying, is that you selling your happiness to me gives me hives.

Here’s the thing, I’ve been known to buy Pampered Chef and stuff. Heck, I’ve even thrown a Pampered Chef party (like 7 years ago, calm down). But those were the days before these Facebook groups I just get added to against my will. Also, the personal messages I get sent disguised as an old friend wanting to see what I’ve been up to, but before I can even send my response to the question, “How are you?”, I’ve already received a follow up message that’s trying to sell me something.

I get it, man. You have a family to provide for and you are killing it out there in the world. That’s really awesome, I’m proud of you. Really, I am. But the thought of being sold something gives me extreme anxiety. Not even just your nail wraps, girl. The random middle of the aisle mall kiosk people make me power walk faster than I do at the gym to get the hell away before they’ve even said hello. I KNOW THEY’RE JUST DOING THEIR JOB. I don’t know why it stresses me out.

That’s a lie. I know it’s because I’m a people pleaser. I’m also poor. So when someone is aggressively trying to sell me a $50 lipstick, I stress out over having to tell them no. Not because I’m embarrassed I’m poor, but because I know they’re trying hard and I’m about to crush their dreams. The only person’s dreams I am comfortable crushing are my child’s.

You should see me at a car dealership. Oh man, that’s a whole ‘nother level. [MadTV, anyone?] Because if I’m at a car dealership, it’s because I need a car. Therefore, I have no out. I start to have a panic attack because I know that you can talk me into circles as to why I have no excuse not to purchase the overpriced car you’re trying to sell me. I need a car, you’re selling a car. So basically I’m screwed into buying this car because I’m too terrified to argue with you. [don’t even begin to come at me with cars for sale, I HAVE A PERFECTLY CRAPPY ONE ALREADY.]

So basically what I’m saying is, if you must try to do your business then just invite me to an event on Facebook so I can quietly decline the offer and go about my day. If I’m interested, I will come to you. I WILL, I PROMISE. My friend Amanda sells Wildtree and I’m willing to bet she’s made more money off of me than any other customer.

I was invited to like 4 Wildtree parties prior to the one I actually went to. I turned them all down. But finally I was like, you know what? I’m ready to try. So the 5th invite I said yes. And you know what I did? I cried on the way to the party because I was so terrified she was going to aggressively sell me something while I was there. Isn’t that ridiculous? I know it is, but I can’t help it. But she didn’t. And so I was comfortable.

You people who send weirdly aggressive personal Facebook messages are the WORST. Again, I get it, but you are the WORST for people like me. Because I know you can see I read your message. Oh man, my heart is pounding just writing about it. It isn’t even happening right now. GOODNESS.

POINT BEING: Don’t be offended if I ignore your invite, message, or group. I promise I’m not trying to be a jerk. I’m just trying to not have a weird panic attack, mmkay? Please still love me.

Is anyone else like this? Or is everyone else able to just say no like a regular human being? Maybe lie to me if you have to.

xo
TAB

 

Posted in messy month

My Messy Month [June 2017]

…… It’s June.

It’s June in Texas and it’s raining and it’s humid and it’s hot and complaincomplaincomplain.

I’m currently pouting because I just realized Hulu took Daria off and I’m way too lazy to get up and get the DVDs to watch. So, you know, I’ll just complain to you. YOU’RE WELCOME. Let’s get started:

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So I actually don’t have much scheduled during the week and that makes me SO HAPPY. That means while Kiddo is at school (yes, I have him in school 3 days/week over the summer to keep my sanity) I can do my work during the daytime and relax at night! (I normally work while he’s sleeping at night and shove everything I have to do for the week into his school days.)

And June has Father’s Day and I totally ordered Hubs an awesome gift and I’m super excited and I’m writing this to see if he actually reads my blog. [Nope, I won’t tell you what it is, Chuck.]

One of my main goals this month is to actually incorporate a writing day into my week. A day dedicated not only to this blog, but to write for my book no one will read. Doesn’t that sound fun? No, but in all seriousness, I always have an itch to write, but I never truly take the time to do it outside of this blog because all I can focus on is all the things I should be doing instead of writing. Like the laundry, the dishes, or leaving my house and being a decent person. Life is hard, amirite?

So I’m not going to do a book club pick this month for two reasons:
1.) It’s summertime and leave me alone.
2.) No one besides me and my sweet friend, Pauline, were reading the books anyway.
and 3.) I just wanted to drive people with OCD insane because I said there were two reasons. Carry on.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not reading. I mean, have you even met me? Here’s what’s on tap:

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Feel free to join, or don’t, I DON’T CARE. Bitter, party of one? Haha no, I will pick back up with an official book club pick in August. But so Hope Unfolding and Love Unending came up in my Amazon “suggested books” when I bought the Pressing Pause book and I’m so happy that I got them.

First, Hope Unfolding is speaking to me as an exhausted mama right now. I’ve only read a chapter or two so far, but I can already tell it’s going to be a book I recommend to other mamas.

Second, Love Unending I would describe almost as similar to the Love Dare. Now, Hubs and I have done the Love Dare more than once and rave about it. We first did it because infertility took our marriage and ripped it to shreds and we had to rebuild and it worked wonderfully. Love Unending doesn’t seem to be quite as intense and it only speaks to the woman, which I love. The Love Dare is a broad command to both husband and wife. Love Unending is just taking things from the wife’s point of view and I’m really needing that right now. Marriage is hard, y’all. And as someone who is doing marriage with mental illness involved, often I need little reminders that I do love my husband and I do love my marriage. I know that sounds bad if you don’t understand, but I promise it isn’t a bad thing. My mental crap just tries to constantly convince me that Hubs doesn’t really love me and I’m just a big pain for him to be married to and I should just leave to make everything better for everyone. So yeah, sometimes I need a reminder that I don’t actually want that and maybe I should just be handing some more stuff over to the Man Upstairs, k?

And Pressing Pause, I actually have no memory of how I even came upon this book, but I did and I’m glad. It’s just 100 short little devotions to read every day for mamas. ❤

NEXT: Obsessions.

So, when I was a teenager I remember being obsessed with wearing makeup. I wouldn’t even leave the house to check the mail or go to the grocery store without having my makeup on. But the older and busier I got, the makeup went out the door. But as part of my attempt at improving my self-esteem, I have started wearing makeup again and I am loving it. And the fact that I actually have my own makeup space in my bedroom totally helps:

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Yeah, it’s messy. Get off my back.

And here are some of my current “beauty” obsessions:

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Kendra Scott nail polish – Omg these cost way too much money, but dude they match the stones that you get from KS and I just… *sigh* I got them for Mother’s Day. They’re GORGEOUS.

Too Faced Melted Matte – The color stays on so long, it dries fast and uhhhh I love it?

Bath and Body Works Pretty as a Peach – I love everything peach. Taste, smell, uhhh look? I don’t know, man, I like it. And my sweet MOPS mentor mama gave us little B&BW gifts at our last MOPS meeting.

Copper Eye shadow – I just love love love the color, mmkay?

Anything else? OH. Hubs and I are going to do a Bible Study together-ish. (aka – we are both studying the same book, but like… not doing it sitting next to each other every time. Make sense?)

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So that’s what my current June looks like. Do you have anything exciting planned? Let me know!

xo
Tab

Posted in messy mama

The Play-doh Incident: The Art of Acceptance [Messy Mama #4]

Hey, you know when your kid busts out the Play-doh and you have to bust out the Xanax?

What? … that’s not a normal thing?

WELL FOR ME IT IS. And I am not kidding. At all. I’m not OCD, I just have a control problem. And poor Kiddo has to deal with it every day. I don’t care if his room is clean, or if my house is clean for that matter. What I do have a problem with is how he does things. I become so tense while he colors a picture, or builds things, does puzzles, plays t-ball, etc. I just want to be like, “Just let me do it, you aren’t doing it right.”

Parenting with anxiety is so hard, y’all. Heck, I even get stressed at the park when another kid is doing something and I can’t control the situation.  I know, I really know. I’m working on it. But please… please try to understand:

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If you can look at that picture without cringing or holding your breath or, you know, crying… then you are a wonderful mystery to me. Also, I’m in awe. Because even posting that picture physically hurts me. PHYSICALLY HURTS.

I’m yelling a lot in this post. See? I’m tightly wound from this.

I hate the idea that Kiddo is going to possibly grow up also being so tightly wound because his mom won’t give him any room to breathe. So I try to let the little things go. That’s what everyone tells me to do, let the little things go. The hard part is, my anxiety won’t allow my brain to tell the difference between the little things and the big things. To me, the play-doh colors mixing is a big thing. To me, my child twirling in the outfield at his t-ball game full of other 4 year olds twirling in the outfield is a big thing. I have a hard time focusing on the fact that he’s having a blast, he’s enjoying the sunshine and the grass. He’s enjoying playing with friends and socializing and freedom as his mom is confined to the dugout.

My mind is in a constant battle with itself. I’m yelling at him for not doing something the way I want him to, while my mind is yelling at me for yelling at him over something so stupid. Yet I can’t stop. I know you guys, it’s exhausting being me. I actually say that to my therapist a lot, “It’s exhausting being me.”

But I’m trying. So what if I had to take a pill for my anxiety to get through it? It’s a start. And you know what? He mixed like 7 colors together. I might have had to chant “You can buy new ones at the dollar store. You can buy new ones at the dollar store” several times in my head, but I didn’t get mad at him. I just accepted it and made my own stuff instead:

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I might have had to take some deep breaths when he then grabbed this very cow and added it to his color pile… BUT LET’S NOT TALK ABOUT THAT.

Anyway, folks. Point of this post is to say that I totally understand if you yell at your kid because he grabbed a fist full of spaghetti instead of using the fork RIGHT NEXT TO HIM. It’s okay, really. He’s enjoying the food you made, right? Normally you have to force it down his throat, but no. He was so excited about it he just reached right in. And we can just let that go. I know I can… I  uhh…mean you, I know you can. I would never have a problem with something like that. No, never.

xo
Tab

Posted in messy mama

God Bless TV. [messy mama #3]

Who do I send a thank you note to for kid friendly TV? Was there like a super tired mom that had a thousand things to do that was just like… my kid can’t watch this boring TV. LET’S CREATE KID TV! I feel like it was a mom. It probably wasn’t though. It was probably some dude that was just like, “My wife wanted me to watch the kids while she took a nap and so I was like… man these kids need something to watch while I do dude stuff and hammer some things.” [I do realize I could Google who created it, but let’s be honest here… I’m not going to.]

That was really sexist and stereotypical, sorry. Don’t send some sort of mob after me. But I mean…come on. *cough*

Look, y’all. I was raised on TV and I turned out GREAT. right? And we didn’t even have all the educational stuff they have now. I watched Bugs Bunny and stuff. What did that even teach me? To look for things falling from the sky? Well, great. Done. Success! That’s not to say that my kid watches all educational stuff…. there’s a lot of superheros involved. Although, that teaches him to save the little guy, right? RIGHT?

I used to be super judgmental about people who gave their small children electronics. My kid isn’t allowed to use tablets and phones until kindergarten. Look at me, look at me, my kid is super social and doesn’t use fancy gadgets! Yeah well, but I do stick him in front of the TV often. So who am I to judge, really?

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That’s a picture of my very whiny, stuffed up, and grouchy child, taken 15 minutes ago watching Lego: Batman. Sitting among piles of laundry that I’m too lazy to put away while I take a minute to myself to blog. Because y’all, I haven’t had a second to myself to write in a while. When he’s sleeping, I work. When he’s awake, I play with him, read to him, or clean. When he’s at school, I cram all my appointments and stuff into those days. [I’m obviously very important] Sometimes I just cry. You know, because that’s normal.

So all this to say, do what you can to survive. No judgement here.

Also, super unrelated: [there are mild cuss words in the next paragraph, just FYI]

I subscribe to a subscription box called “Smartass and Sass” [because, of course I do] and this little quote came in my box this month and it cracks me up/makes me feel good.

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Have a great week, y’all.

xo
Tab

Dang, I should have gotten paid to promote that box. SOMEONE PAY ME.

Posted in Uncategorized

Ridd;kulus!

[PSA: This post talks about suicide, so if you are uncomfortable with that… then I will forgive you for not reading. Promise. <3]

So let me start by saying: I AM DYING RIGHT NOW.

… not really, but I got a new tattoo. [see, parents? IT COULD BE WORSE.]

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So I know it might be confusing, but let me explain. So let me start with this: Project Semicolon. I’ve mentioned it in a previous post and how I really wanted to get my own semicolon as a suicide survivor.

My suicide attempt has always been something I’m very open about. If anyone was to walk up and ask me off the street, I’d offer up my info pretty easy. Why? Because I truly believe that someday my openness will change someone’s life. It may have already, I really don’t know, but I’m hoping that it does. I’m praying that I make some kind of difference for someone. I pray that I can make at least one person not feel so alone. So if it scares you or makes you uncomfortable to hear my suicide attempt, maybe skip the next paragraph or so.

Lately my suicide story has been heavy on my mind… for many reasons. Maybe it’s because lately I’ve said the words, “I want to just be done and kill myself” out loud to my husband on multiple occasions. And not in the dramatic way, in the real way with tears falling down my face. [there is no need to worry, I promise]

It didn’t all start with a straight up attempt when I was 17. No, I actually I called out for help long before that and it was ignored. [Let me start this part with, my mom did the best she mentally could with what she was given. I was a teenager full of attitude, I talked back, I was exactly like her. Our tempers were the same and so when we would fight…we would FIGHT.  Things would get hateful and things would get bad. I’ve done a lot of work on this after her death. A lot of forgiving and moving on. Realizing she was human, just like me.] So there was a lot going on in my life. I was living in a house with my mother, my alcoholic step-father, and three younger siblings. At 16, I had a lot of responsibilities. I had high school, I had a full-time job (I’d get out of school at 4, be at work at 4:30, and work til midnight), I had failing grades for the first time in my life, and I had a mother who needed more from me than I wanted to give her. Along with my very adored therapist that had just died from cancer and stopping my dance “career” after 14 years… things weren’t going well for me.

My threats came in the form of me screaming “I’M GOING TO KILL MYSELF” to my mother’s face, putting half-hearted marks on my arms so she’d see, and writing my mother a letter telling her I wanted to take a bottle of pills and overdose. All to be received with eye rolls and being told to “grow up”. And I get it, I really do. I didn’t use to, but I do now. I had to be so damn exhausting to be around. She had bigger problems than me threatening to kill myself every 10 minutes. She probably did what I do, I shut down and pretend like real life isn’t happening. I laugh off the hard stuff and just pray everything works out for the best in the end. I know now that my mom was scared. I know now how much she needed me. I know now. But I wish she would have verbalized that. I’m working on forgiving her for this part. I’m working on it.

Looking back, my attempt at suicide was so stupid and so selfish. I was driving home, from where I can’t remember. Prior to this day, I would always drive home and be like, “God, if I’m meant to kill myself… then put a blue car in front of me.” Isn’t that weird? Like, I wanted permission from Him to kill myself. I wanted Him to tell me that that was His plan for me. I know, I know.

So my mom and I had a fight, I remember that much. I remember that I was driving home from being with a friend(?) or school event(?) to come help her with something at home. I remember tears falling down my face and me screaming into the closed car, “I JUST WANT TO BE A TEENAGER. I JUST WANT TO BE DONE. I JUST WANT TO BE DONE.” I remember that. I remember shaking, I remember cars racing past me. I remember the road being PACKED. I remember looking next to me at a steady stream of cars and just jerking my wheel to slam into a car next to me. I wanted to be in a wreck. I wanted it to hurt me. I wanted to feel pain. I wanted to be done and I wanted everyone around me to care.

Did I wreck? Nope. No I didn’t. In fact… the road was suddenly clear of cars. And no, I’m not kidding. I KNOW there were cars there. I KNOW IT. I remember opening my eyes with my car still moving and me still untouched and thinking…. what…the…#$%*? I went into a trance and I don’t remember the drive home from there. I remember walking into my front door with a blank look on my face and my mom freaking out saying, “WHAT??!” And me simply saying, “I need you to get me help. I just tried to kill myself and you need to get me help.”

My mom never hugged us, never kissed us, never told us she loved us on the regular. But we knew she loved us. People ask me how? Because at that moment, she dropped everything. She called a neighbor to watch the kids and she took me to a mental health facility. But here’s the part no one realizes, I checked myself in. My mom through tears asked me time and time again to not go. She was shaking and scared. She held my hand. She hugged me. She told me she loved me and she asked me not to go. But I did. I said I had to. I had to go or I wouldn’t live through this life. People always said, “I can’t believe your mother put you there.” She didn’t. I did. I put myself there. I was 17.

My mom started listening to me after that. My mom saw how hard life was on me. She worked on it. Did we go back to our same old routine after a while? Sure. And things between us would still get bad. But she listened when I would tell her I was feeling suicidal again. She noticed when I couldn’t get out of bed, she’d make sure I’d go to the therapist.

Maybe I’m feeling this way because it was just Mother’s Day. A day where I’m working on remembering the good times with my mom and not all the bad times, because we had a lot of them. This isn’t a post to bash my mother. I love my mother. Oh how I love her. We are all human and my mom was doing the best she could with what she was given. And for all the bad we had, her life as a Nana made up for all of it. Oh how she loved Kiddo. I saw her so differently in those moments and I thank God every day that she got to be around for me to see that. That I got to have those kinds of memories with her, because I need them. I needed a different relationship with her and He gave it to me.

SO, all that to say – that’s where there is a semicolon inside the word on my arm.

So why the word? Riddikulus! It’s a Harry Potter spell, duh. And if you don’t know that *cough*Brittany*cough* then I hate you and never want to talk to you again.

 

… just kidding…

Anyways, [source: http://harrypotter.wikia.com/]

The Boggart-Banishing Spell[1] (Riddikulus) is a charm that is used in defense against a Boggart. It causes the creature to assume a form that is humorous to the caster, along with a whip-crack noise, thereby counteracting the Boggart’s ability to terrorize.

Boggarts are defeated by laughter, so forcing them to assume an amusing form is the first step to defeating them…

So I chose to have this on my arm because what a beautiful representation of my power over anxiety and depression. What a beautiful reminder that I am the one that holds the power to look at all that scares me and change it, make it better. How do I currently handle it? I laugh. 

So there you have it, folks. That’s my new tattoo.

Feel free to share. Please share. Not because of my lifelong dream to be adored by my peers, but because maybe, just maybe, someone needs to see this.

Tab

Posted in Uncategorized

It’s okay to just let it go.

This past year has been a roller coaster ride for me. I’ve made a wild amount of progress in some aspects of my life and I’ve also hit a lot of roadblocks in my life.

This upcoming Mother’s Day really has my mind racing lately. Not only because it’s going to be my first Mother’s Day without my own mother, but a thousand other things come to mind. Since adopting Kiddo, it always makes me think of his birth mother. The first year with him, it made me angry at her. We hadn’t adopted him yet and I was full of anger at the fact that I was having to wait to adopt a child that wasn’t properly cared for in the first place. By a “mother” who didn’t care and chose drugs over her own child. (calm down, I’m going somewhere with this.)

The second year, we had officially adopted him. I started stalking her Facebook page on the regular (something I have since had to block myself from doing). I saw that even though she didn’t make the best choices, she still was a mom. She gave birth to several children who were taken from her. And the maybe those drugs are her way of coping. Maybe those drugs are her way of escaping a possible terrible childhood. Maybe the drugs help her forget that her kids have been taken away. And maybe I have no room to judge her sins, just because she’s sinning differently than me. And maybe, just maybe Mother’s Day is a really, really hard day for her. So I started using that day to set aside prayer time for her. I’m not saying it’s easy for me. It really, really is not. But I do it.

Mother’s Day has also always been hard for me because it’s a reminder that I couldn’t be a mother the way I wanted to. I couldn’t become pregnant like I wanted to, I couldn’t give birth. Before adoption, it was a day I would spend crying. A day I dreaded. A day I stopped focusing on my own mother, and chose to spend it dwelling on all the children I didn’t/couldn’t have.

After adoption, it was a day I still cried. I cried because I still couldn’t have what I wanted. I cried because even though I was blessed with a beautiful boy, I still wanted more. I wasn’t satisfied. And that day was just a reminder that I couldn’t have what I wanted, when I wanted it. It was hard.

But this past year I’ve truly started to think about whether I really still wanted another kid, or if I just wanted the pregnancy. Do I really want the up all nights and the potty training and the fighting and diapers? Or is it the attention, the baby showers, the name picking, the shopping? And with lots of therapy, I’m starting to realize it’s the second one. I don’t really long to have more kids anymore. I truly am okay with just the one. Instead, I’ve been holding onto a dream I thought I wanted, because I felt like letting the dream go was a betrayal to myself. A betrayal on all the years I spent crying, all the years we spent trying, all the doctors appointments, and all the money. I felt like I was no longer allowed to let the dream go. I was keeping the dream almost as a punishment to myself for even having the thought of letting it go. How dare I quit.

But then I realize… it’s okay to let it go. It’s okay to learn to love the life I have. It’s okay to soak in the boy that drives me insane and it’s okay to set up a life for a family of 3. It’s okay. Does that mean I won’t cry on Sunday? Absolutely not. I can even promise you I will cry. Because even though I’m allowing myself to let go of the dream, I can still mourn the loss of it. I can still mourn the loss of the life I thought I’d have. And I can certainly mourn the loss of my mother.

But I can also smile with the tears. I can smile because God gave me what I asked for, a baby. He gave me a baby via a different plan. He gave me a baby that I didn’t know was out in the world a whole year before I met him. He was already part of the plan. And God might already have another plan for us that involves another child and that would be awesome too. But he also might not. And that really is okay too. It is okay to allow myself to move on. And honestly? It’s a weight off my shoulders. It’s a freedom.

To the mamas who gave birth, Happy Mother’s Day.
To the mamas who have lost their babies, Happy Mother’s Day.
To the mamas who adopted, Happy Mother’s Day.
To the mamas who haven’t yet had a baby, but are mamas at heart, Happy Mother’s Day.
To the stepmamas who were a bigger part of their stepchild’s life than they give them credit for, Happy Mother’s Day. (<3)
To those who have lost their mamas, but still celebrate them in their hearts, Happy Mother’s Day.
To those of you who don’t have kids and don’t want them, Happy Mother’s Day.
It’s truly just another Sunday if you want it to be and I hope it’s a happy one for all of you.

Me and my mama. ❤

xo
Tab

Posted in messy month

My Messy Month [May 2017]

I’m watching Golden Girls, there’s a GIANT pile of unfolded laundry on the couch next to me, and IT IS FREEZING IN THIS HOUSE.

Hi, guys. GREAT NEWS! Tball is over. IT’S OVER. I might have already said that in another blog, but I don’t care. It’s something to celebrate over here.

So let’s take a look at this crazy busy month:

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Don’t be creepy and try to figure out where I’m gonna be when I’m gonna be there. I’ll call the cops! NOT TODAY, STALKER.

This month is May. Holy crap, how’d that happen? This year is flying by and it’s been quite the ride already. Someways good, someways bad. However, a week from today is Mother’s Day and I’m nervous. See, I have this thing where I micromanage holidays like that and I remind my husband every 5 seconds that the day is coming up and tell him exactly what I want. And that way when the day actually comes, I got exactly what I wanted and then I wind up pissed off because I basically just bought myself a present. And then poor Charles is like “…. I did exactly what you told me to do….” SO, I’ve not done that this time. *fights anxiety* And yesterday he said, “I ordered your present. So when it comes in the mail, don’t open it.” …. WHAT? SO NOW NOT ONLY DO I NOT KNOW WHAT THIS DAMN THING IS, IT’S GOING TO BE SITTING IN A BOX IN FRONT OF ME? WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?

*breathes dramatically* It’s fine. It’ll all be fine. IT’LL BE FINE.

Pray for me.

I mean… JUST KIDDING, I’M SURE YOU DID GREAT, CHARLES.

*cough*

Anywhooooo… let’s see what I’m obsessed with this month, shall we?

This Halo Top brand, y’all. So far I’ve liked every one of them but the Birthday Cake. It tasted…chalky? Whatever, man. There are plenty of other flavors. And I may or may not have already eaten half of this one soooo….

And then This Sherry Wine Jam. IT’S DELISH. And Skinny Pop. LISTEN, I LOVE FOOD.

Also, my bible study group has finished Jonah and have moved on to reading and discussing this book:

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Unoffendable by Brant Hansen. Probably a book I will need to be reading. I get offended by EVERYTHING. I’m very dramatic. I know this might be shocking for you to hear, BUT THERE IT IS.

…. hmm?

And did any of you read last month’s Messy Book Club book: Everything, Everything? [discussion in the comments! (as to not give any spoilers away)]

And this month’s book is one I’ve been looking forward to. It’s the brand new book by the author of The Girl on a Train, Paula Hawkins:

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Let’s see… what else? May is going to be filled with a lot around here. Mostly trying to keep my head above water. I’m not over-scheduled by any means, but my brain is. Does that make sense? I feel like my brain has been going a mile a minute in a bad direction and I’m struggling to get myself back above the water I’m drowning in.

Also, I’m blonde now. But I’ll save the update pic until it’s complete on Wednesday. I’m only halfway to the final product!

Alright! Let me know what your month looks like. And discuss Everything, Everything in the comments. I’m curious what y’all thought!