Tag: mom

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…)

 

The green eyed monster–how much is that Louboutin in the window?

So, one of the things that has plagued me forever is the green eyed monster…you know, jealousy.  And it’s a real bitch to get rid of, once it has its claws in you.  I’m discovering that I’ve been jealous of other people my entire life.  And it’s so dumb.  But, I need to conquer this monster if I’m ever going to be truly happy.  How do I do that?   I DON’T KNOW!!  Otherwise I would have by now, sheesh.

My early memories of me as a child include me feeling self conscious.  And now as an adult, I realize that I really didn’t have any reason to feel that way.  Looking at pictures of myself, I was the same geeky, long legged, beanpole that the other kids were.  I had a ridiculous hairstyle and giant teeth…normal.  I had decent grades and a cute dog (RIP Mickey), all normal.  Awesome, even.

I always had everything that I needed.  I had a lot of things that I wanted.  But here’s the thing…The things I wanted weren’t things!   I craved love and acceptance.  I wanted to feel special and beautiful.  I wanted to be unique.  That’s all I still want.  And that’s what I’m still looking for.

When I was in high school, I suffered the same self loathing that I imagine most teenage girls suffer from.  (Why can’t my hair be higher?  I teased it and sprayed it and teased it!  Why meeeeee???  Why can’t my spiral perm be more spiraly?  How come my jeans aren’t tight rolled tighter?  Why can’t I just keep one side of my overalls up?  I don’t want both sides up!  Why doesn’t my scrunchy perfectly match my flannel?  WHY??????)

And as I grew, my jealousy and low self esteem began to eat at me more and more.  I graduated from college and moved into my own apartment.  I got a job.  I bought a car (RIP Laser Red Mustang.   You were loved.).  I was on my own!  I should have been bursting with pride, but I always felt like I fell a bit short.  Why didn’t I get a better job?  Why didn’t I have a bigger apartment?  (The car was awesome, though.  I’m not gonna lie about that!). And the sad fact is that no one was judging me.  No one was saying these things to me.  I was my own worst critic.  I settled for what I could get and that was it.  I sabotaged myself and made some poor decisions, simply because I didn’t have the confidence to fight for more.

Once I got married and settled into a “normal” life, I began to notice other things, and this is when the jealousy kicked into high gear.  My ex used to get so frustrated with me because I constantly compared myself to others.  But, what he neglected to see is that it still wasn’t about things.  I was jealous of love.  I wanted love.  Pure, happy, uncomplicated love.  (And I’m not naive…I’m very aware that what I see on the outside of couples and families does NOT necessarily represent what is on the inside.). But, I would see families at the zoo when I was toting two small children alone.  Laughing, silly dads carrying kids around and having fun.  I would see couples at the grocery store talking about what they wanted for dinner.  I would see couples walking dogs, hand in hand, while the kids rode bikes ahead of them.  That’s the THING I wanted.  How do I let that go?  how do I get over that?  I want it.  You can’t buy it, so I didn’t have it.

But, at this point in my life, I refuse to settle for less.  I want the dream.  I want the whole shebang.  Wrinkles and all.  I want someone to hold my hand on the couch while we watch a movie, but I also want someone I can vent my frustrations to.  Someone who will hear me.  And see me.  And still love me.  I want it, dammit!

But, that person is my other shoe.  And that shoe is a Louboutin in the window.  Untouchable. Out of reach.  maybe even unrealistic.  But, that person is shiny and awesome on the top and fiery red on the bottom.  And that’s what I want!  And as I’ve travelled down this road of healing and learning…I finally have the self confidence to fight for it, or at least be patient.  It will come.  I will not settle and you shouldn’t either.  What do they say?  Fool me once shame on me?  Fool me twice?  What??  Never mind, just don’t be a fool!  We are all too damn old for that!