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Through the broken places…

Through the broken places…

So cradle your head in your hands,
And breathe… just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe…

2 AM and I’m still awake, writing a song post
If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you’ll use them, however you want to
—Just Breathe lyrics–

I’ve been thinking a lot about my Mom lately. I wonder what she would say to me if I could lean on her for advice. I’ve been in a broken place. It built up over the past year. It’s a lonely place walking through the broken places. I was hoping I could find solace when I went to the beach. I always find peace there. But it was elusive. There was a lot of crying and some yelling and a few choice words shared. (Sidenote: If you find yourself in a parking lot with someone who has only known you a couple of years and has only been with you 3 or so  times in person and the two of you are yelling at each other so loud and with such profanity that a nearby mom covers her daughter’s ears, something is not right.)  We yelled with passion. We threw a few verbal punches that hurt worse than any physical punch ever could. “YOU are the one who invited yourself along.” We cried an ugly cry. I blurted out something no one should ever know about me and better stay that way. And then we hugged it out.

But something is not right when you are on vacation and that happens. Something is wrong when you feel like a stranger around people who should be your comfort and your extended home. Something is not clicking when you feel like an imposition (and are basically told that) when you go to visit family. And most definitely something is not right when you don’t or can’t stand up to your (*extended) family and tell them what you want and what you need.

In my eyes, I was doing all I could to be accommodating. It came off as not being decisive. In my heart I would try to please everyone and in the process pleased no one, hurt some and ended up being accused of creating drama. And when the one person who has never said a harsh word to me in my adult life looked at me and said I was creating drama, it broke my heart. We don’t speak often and he has never spoken to me that way.

So basically, on a vacation that I prayed would heal me, broke me. I hurt people I love. I fractured or maybe even broke relationships I have always striven  to make stronger my entire life. I lost a lot of confidence and faith in people I looked up to. I lost a lot of confidence and faith in myself. And I ended up realizing that the person they have always known does not exist anymore.  I am not a child anymore. I am no longer someone you can tell what to do and when and I will happily agree because I look up to you. I am an adult with a life so different from most of my (extended) family. And whereas I love my life, I am broken hearted over seeing things in a new way and losing what I have always wanted.  The truth is, I will never have the relationship I have wanted all my life with some people in my family. I will never be “one of them” no matter what I try to do or try to be. I will always be the “one who invited herself along” and not the one who is invited.

And I have to make peace with that. It will take time. But to quote a friend of the family, “Live the life you love and love the life you live.” That is my plan. With or without support.

That is what I want to talk to my Mom about. How would she help me walk through the broken places? What would she tell me to do? Why can’t I just curl up with her and let her tell me that it will all be okay and that I am perfectly me and that is good enough? Oh,what I would give to hear her tell me “This too shall pass” as she always did when things felt horribly wrong in my life. What would Mom tell me to do to pick myself up, dust myself off and move through the broken places? Where would she tell me I fit in? And can I ever?

I’ve been blessed that I can share this with my Dad. He and his wife have been so supportive. For that I am forever grateful. And I know they will always be there for me as I walk through this. As for the rest…

Well, I just don’t know. It’s hard to see clearly through the broken places.

Moving On

I know all the faces
Each one is different but they’re always the same
They mean me no harm but it’s time that I face it
They’ll never allow me to change
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don’t belong
I’m movin’ on



*By “extended” family I am just differentiating between those who are not my immediate family like my husband and 3 kids.