What the heck is this? Feeling like a pair of Crocs

When we moved from Virginia to Colorado in 2005, my world was rocked in more ways than one.  I had no family here.  I had my best fried, Chrissy, but she worked full time and had an active social life.  (But, I don’t know what I would ever do without her.  She’s been my rock since we were in high school.  And I never want to know a world without her!)

So, needless to say, I was floundering a bit.  I had my little girl, Kinsey.   She was 18 months old and probably the most adorable little girl on the planet.  And the two of us became best friends.  We did everything together.

One evening, soon after we got here, we all went out for dinner to Chili’s.  I don’t know why I remember this so vividly, but it’s etched in my brain.  Anyway, we were sitting there and I was looking around.  And I saw all these people.  Wearing hideous shoes.  With holes in them!  They looked ridiculous!  I had never seen such a thing before in my life.  In fact, I was so confused, I had to ask the waitress what the heck these people were wearing.  The answer?  Crocs.

So, obviously, after living in Colorado now for 13 years, I’ve settled in quite nicely.  And, as a not-so proud owner of multiple pairs of Crocs over the years (not currently….never again!) I can speak about them with confidence.  And actually, they are the perfect metaphor for my life!  Get this….Comfortable?  check.  many different colors?  check.  a little ugly and a little embarrassing?  CHECK.  Full of holes?  Double check!

So, who amongst us can’t relate to that a bit?  And my life is so comfortable right now.  I am feeling oh so lucky and oh so strong these days.  But, that doesn’t mean that it’s pretty, because it’s not.  Dealing with the day to day bullshit of divorce is wearing on a person.  And it’s not fun, but the price of that bullshit is my happiness and the happiness of my children and I’m ok with paying that!  And the holes represent the empty spaces of who I am.  That’s what I’m trying to figure out.  How do I fill I those holes to become 100% me?  (Please remove your mind from the gutter, because I went there, too.  But, that’s not what I’m talking about, perv!)

I was never one of those SUPER swanky crocs with no holes.  As amazing as they are, they just weren’t me.  My holes have always been there.  And I’ve been trying to find ways to fill them up, and I think it’s impossible.  But, writing this crap down helps.  Surrounding myself with people who genuinely like me helps even more.  And accepting the fact that even if I figure out how to fill in the holes now, new ones will emerge later is probably the key.   And, once I find my other shoe, I guarantee his holes will be different than mine, and now I can’t stop laughing!!!  HOLES!!!!

When I was a kid growing up in the middle of a cornfield, I had no idea that my life would turn into a hideous rubber shoe, but alas, it did.  And so did yours, I bet.  Nobody wishes for the dreaded Croslite to ooze into their lives.  (Yes, I googled “what are crocs made out of”, and there’s your answer.  You’re welcome.).  But, nobody has a perfect life. I know that more now than ever.  The people that I envy at the grocery store, or walking their dogs, have their own holes to bear.  It’s life.  Nobody gets through it unscathed.

Here’s the good part, though.  You can determine the role that your holes are going to have over your life.  Your missing pieces.  Your painful memories and buried shames.  Your pieces that have been pushed down so far that you’d rather forget them than deal with them.  They don’t own you.  They don’t have to, at least.  They can still remain there as a part of you, but you can determine their size.  Don’t let your holes become larger than you.  Deal with that shit and move forward.  (Sidebar—I watched Meet the Robinsons with my kids yesterday, and the movie is frigging awesome.  KEEP MOVING FORWARD.  My new motto!)

I have lots of hope.  (I also have a dirty mind apparently, because I just wrote a whole blog about holes and giggled nonstop.  Next time I need a better metaphor…)