I recently had a birthday and am now officially 37 years old. There’s some type of reflection that usually comes with a birthday, major holiday, or bringing in the new year. The famous question will somehow pop into your mind. Am I happy?
I really thought about that this year. Am I happy turned into am I fulfilled, am I where I’m supposed to be in life, am I doing enough, am I making a difference?? It’s not just simply one question, in fact it’s so much more than that.
I attempted to make a mental listing of all my current life points.
I love my children more than anything in the world, but they also drive me crazier than anything in the world.
I enjoy spending time with friends laughing and talking, but I secretly want to hide in social situations because my anxiety is soaring.
I crave traveling, taking new adventures, but I also constantly think there’s 18,000 things I could be accomplishing if I stayed home.
I think my relationship and communication with my husband is strong, but some days I wonder if our children are the glue that hold us together.
I am blessed to be a SAHM and have a hands on full time experience raising my children and keeping a home, but I also crave purpose and miss the fulfillment of a career.
I live to volunteer, it’s the air that I breathe, but volunteering means missing out on the fun aspect of the experience sometimes.
There are so many contradicting thoughts here. So many questions that I cannot define with an answer, and that is a struggle for me. You hear people say things simply aren’t black and white, learn to relax, go with the flow! I crave answers, direction, a sign as to which way to go. I guess you could say that is what faith is, but even that comes with a laundry list of questions.
Who knew at 37 years of age the true question to life would arise - what is the balance? What is the balance between the positive and the negative, the happy and sad, the sweet and the sour, the experience and the introvert, your past, future, and right now? How can we manage to in a sense “do it all” and make life amazing? Perhaps I just need to fast forward to 38 and call it a wash!
Pondering life’s hard questions.....
Until next time...
Sara
Tuesday, November 5, 2019
Sunday, July 7, 2019
My darkest past
My entire world was shook yesterday, and not in a way you’d think. If you’ve read my past blogs you know my basic relationship history, John and I were married, divorced, and remarried. I was unfaithful and it isn’t something that I discuss with hardly anyone. It’s a blur on my relationship rap sheet so to speak. The time in my life that I continue to be ashamed of and cannot allow myself to be forgiven for. Trust me, both of my therapists have tried their hardest to get me to let go of that time that I keep permanently closed.
Yesterday was a wonderful day. The kids and I continued to celebrate the 4th of July with another parade and then a Duluth Huskies game. Side note - my children are not old enough or patient enough to watch a baseball game yet. Everything was going great until I was taking in the crowd and saw him, or someone I thought was him. Him being the man that wrecked part of my spirit and continues to do so. I wasn’t sure it was him, but it was enough to make the pit of my stomach fall through the floor. It was one of those moments where you don’t want to look, but fear keeps you glancing and holding your breath waiting for that confirmation that you feared all along. Indeed, it was him. I had to resist the extremely strong urge to bolt and flee from the situation because I was with my children who were at that point still enjoying the game. My thoughts were swirling, and just like that 15 year old memories came flooding back.
The man that I shamefully had an affair with 15 years ago still had the ability to control my thoughts, and I was experiencing the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime surrounded by my babies.
Let’s backup a little bit. Rewind 15 years, bleh my entire body just shivered, when a young couple was going through some rough times. They worked opposite schedules, had debt up to their eyeballs, and I’ll be honest I was simply not ready for forever. My feelings toward relationships were messed up. In the past I had set myself up to never get hurt, and to bail at any sign of distress. I began working more and more and I shared my emotions and feelings with someone other than my husband, it took its toll on our marriage. I was stubborn and wouldn’t let anyone tell me my next move, in fact I was fully confident that our marriage was over and nothing would convince me otherwise.
Enter the dark cloud in my life, the grass I thought was greener, but in looking back it was in fact black. In the beginning things were the same as any new relationship, but it didn’t take long for that relationship to become a dominant one. I was told on a daily basis that I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, strong enough, lovable enough, the list goes on and on. I allowed myself to be bullied into a new version of me, one that became withdrawn, unhappy, and refused to see what it really was, a prison. I was on a fast track to depression and loneliness. I would sit for hours at his apartment waiting for him to come home because I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without him. He wouldn’t buy groceries or pay for anything, and with my minimal income I couldn’t hardly make ends meet. I’m ashamed to admit that John bailed me out more than once during those times simply so I could buy food or pay my rent. His nickname for me was pooper, and he called me that as much and as often as he could. To this day I still can’t call anyone by a nickname, it races me back to those disgusting times.
I couldn’t see what was right in front of my face. I was the one in a relationship with an abuser. I had convinced myself that I was worthless and every step I had taken, every moment I was living was my punishment for hurting John and walking out in my marriage. I had made my bed, and now I was forced to sleep in it. He alienated me from my family and friends, so much so that he had to be sitting next to me while I talked to them on the phone. He would check my phone history, my text messages, and would call my work to make sure I was really there. The entire experience was one of those nightmares you hear about in the news or the subject of a Lifetime movie. He was never physically abusive, but I can guarantee at some point it would’ve gotten to that point.
Getting out of that relationship was scarier than being in it. I was afraid of what he might do, if he would physically hurt me, kill my dogs, or even kill me. I remember sitting on the couch at his apartment the very last time while he hurled insult after insult, telling me I was disgusting and that no man would ever want me again. For weeks later he continued to call me pretending to be nice until I didn’t play along and the insults and hatred would surface once again.
It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life, but I got out.
So you see there’s a reason why even 15 years later the sight of him brings me right back to those dark days. Emotionally he scarred me, and I’ll carry those awful memories with me for the rest of my life. No matter how much I try to erase them, they are still there. While all this was happening I was surrounded by people angry that I had given up on John, they would say I got what I deserved because I they could clearly see I was unhappy. I don’t care who you are or what you think someone’s story is, they never deserve to be treated the way I was.
If you’re in an abusive relationship, physical, verbal, financial, controlling, if you’re unhappy - leave. I know your fears. What if I can’t do it, how will I survive, who will love me? Trust in yourself, love yourself, and lean on others to carry you through. You’re not alone, and you deserve to be happy and healthy. Find your happiness.
Until next time.....
Sara
Yesterday was a wonderful day. The kids and I continued to celebrate the 4th of July with another parade and then a Duluth Huskies game. Side note - my children are not old enough or patient enough to watch a baseball game yet. Everything was going great until I was taking in the crowd and saw him, or someone I thought was him. Him being the man that wrecked part of my spirit and continues to do so. I wasn’t sure it was him, but it was enough to make the pit of my stomach fall through the floor. It was one of those moments where you don’t want to look, but fear keeps you glancing and holding your breath waiting for that confirmation that you feared all along. Indeed, it was him. I had to resist the extremely strong urge to bolt and flee from the situation because I was with my children who were at that point still enjoying the game. My thoughts were swirling, and just like that 15 year old memories came flooding back.
The man that I shamefully had an affair with 15 years ago still had the ability to control my thoughts, and I was experiencing the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime surrounded by my babies.
Let’s backup a little bit. Rewind 15 years, bleh my entire body just shivered, when a young couple was going through some rough times. They worked opposite schedules, had debt up to their eyeballs, and I’ll be honest I was simply not ready for forever. My feelings toward relationships were messed up. In the past I had set myself up to never get hurt, and to bail at any sign of distress. I began working more and more and I shared my emotions and feelings with someone other than my husband, it took its toll on our marriage. I was stubborn and wouldn’t let anyone tell me my next move, in fact I was fully confident that our marriage was over and nothing would convince me otherwise.
Enter the dark cloud in my life, the grass I thought was greener, but in looking back it was in fact black. In the beginning things were the same as any new relationship, but it didn’t take long for that relationship to become a dominant one. I was told on a daily basis that I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, strong enough, lovable enough, the list goes on and on. I allowed myself to be bullied into a new version of me, one that became withdrawn, unhappy, and refused to see what it really was, a prison. I was on a fast track to depression and loneliness. I would sit for hours at his apartment waiting for him to come home because I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without him. He wouldn’t buy groceries or pay for anything, and with my minimal income I couldn’t hardly make ends meet. I’m ashamed to admit that John bailed me out more than once during those times simply so I could buy food or pay my rent. His nickname for me was pooper, and he called me that as much and as often as he could. To this day I still can’t call anyone by a nickname, it races me back to those disgusting times.
I couldn’t see what was right in front of my face. I was the one in a relationship with an abuser. I had convinced myself that I was worthless and every step I had taken, every moment I was living was my punishment for hurting John and walking out in my marriage. I had made my bed, and now I was forced to sleep in it. He alienated me from my family and friends, so much so that he had to be sitting next to me while I talked to them on the phone. He would check my phone history, my text messages, and would call my work to make sure I was really there. The entire experience was one of those nightmares you hear about in the news or the subject of a Lifetime movie. He was never physically abusive, but I can guarantee at some point it would’ve gotten to that point.
Getting out of that relationship was scarier than being in it. I was afraid of what he might do, if he would physically hurt me, kill my dogs, or even kill me. I remember sitting on the couch at his apartment the very last time while he hurled insult after insult, telling me I was disgusting and that no man would ever want me again. For weeks later he continued to call me pretending to be nice until I didn’t play along and the insults and hatred would surface once again.
It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life, but I got out.
So you see there’s a reason why even 15 years later the sight of him brings me right back to those dark days. Emotionally he scarred me, and I’ll carry those awful memories with me for the rest of my life. No matter how much I try to erase them, they are still there. While all this was happening I was surrounded by people angry that I had given up on John, they would say I got what I deserved because I they could clearly see I was unhappy. I don’t care who you are or what you think someone’s story is, they never deserve to be treated the way I was.
If you’re in an abusive relationship, physical, verbal, financial, controlling, if you’re unhappy - leave. I know your fears. What if I can’t do it, how will I survive, who will love me? Trust in yourself, love yourself, and lean on others to carry you through. You’re not alone, and you deserve to be happy and healthy. Find your happiness.
Until next time.....
Sara
Monday, February 4, 2019
You can't make me love Jesus
Growing up I was raised Catholic. We attended mass every Sunday, sat in the very front row, and I went to Sunday school preschool - 11th grade. Now if you ask me about it I'll tell you the flat out truth - I hated every single second. There were a few moments of happiness - being in the church choir with my mom, being in the youth choir, doughnut Sunday, but there were also the moments that were unbearable. Like when I was shamed to tears because I couldn't memorize prayers, when we would take tests and I would completely fail, or the fact that I missed out on family time at my grandparents because I was at Sunday school. As soon as I graduated high school I knew I'd never go back, that was until I met John.
John and I attended the required pre-marriage counseling sessions and took the marriage test. I know you're be shocked to learn that we failed. We didn't just fail by a small percentage, we bombed that test and had the lowest score ever recorded. John and I didn't fit into that perfect Catholic box. When the priest asked us how many children we planned on having, we responded with 2 or 3. Apparently that also wasn't fitting into that perfect box, and he tried his best to sign us up for natural family planning classes. I was 20 years old. At that point in my life I had zero desire to have children, heck we didn't even have full time jobs at that point! How would we even begin to raise a child?
After we were married I closed the door on religion and never looked back. It was my time to rebel against the world that I was forced to assimilate to. I knew what I believed in, and I knew that my beliefs did not fit into the Catholic world. My future path was fuzzy, and I had no idea where it would lead me.
Cue the divorce. Yep the divorce. See that piece to the puzzle plays an instrumental role in my life. After the divorce, with a little encouragement from a good friend, I went to church. It wasn't a Catholic church, but Methodist. It was there that I could feel my inner spirit begin to shine because I had finally realized I didn't have to believe everything that was set before me. If I didn't agree with the teachings it was accepted, because nobody was forcing me to believe. Abby was baptized at this church, and I will forever be grateful for the memories that I have of those times.
From there I went to Lutheran church and spent a few years enjoying getting back to my true love - singing. I had lost so much of myself during the separation and divorce and this church was where I rediscovered my love of music. Wyatt was baptized at this church, and I can't tell you how happy of a day that was.
At this time in my life I knew I needed to find something that encouraged that music spark just a little bit more. The next church really was nothing like anything I had ever attended before. Hands in the air, contemporary music, coffee, fellowship, volunteering, a nursery? I absolutely loved it. This church was the one I attended for the shortest amount of time, but I knew that I had to find something that was a balance between this and the Lutheran faith. So what did I do at this point? I quit going to church.
Wait, quit going to church? That's absolutely right, I quit going. I needed to take a step back and realize what I needed and what I was looking for. Remember at this time in my life I had two little kids and a husband that still doesn't believe in any type of organized religion. Life was busy.
Then Deacon was born and was baptized in our backyard in a beautiful ceremony by a family friend. It was the push I needed to get back to church. This time going back was a struggle. I was suffering through PPD after having Deacon, and I wasn't comfortable in my own community. I had no desire at this point in my life to "go out and meet the people." But even with all that hesitation I put on my brave face and hauled my baby to church.
This is the moment of the story when you begin the happy music. You see I walked into Zion and my life has truly never been the same since. I was welcomed with open arms, and I felt safe. I instantly knew there was no box here, I would be accepted, loved, and appreciated. Zion was the total package - contemporary music, coffee, Sunday school, opportunities to volunteer, people that cared not only about me but about my children, and just an overall feeling of love and acceptance. Most people go to church for the message, the religious aspect, I go for the feeling of community. All that Jesus stuff in my eyes is simply a bonus. I still know what I believe in and don't, and I know it's accepted. I am by no means a perfect person, I yell at my kids, I swear like a sailor, I struggle with anxiety, and I insert my foot in my mouth so quick sometimes it makes my own skin crawl. But despite all those flaws and more, I know Jesus loves me and accepts me. I know that despite my life choices, or how down in the dumps I can feel, Jesus loves and accepts me. At the end of the day you can't make me love Jesus, but when I'm ready he'll be there for me and has been every single step of my journey.
- until next time....
Sara
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