I Should Have Stood UP


We have just arrived home from a quick bite out for lunch. It was at a small restaurant not too far away. We love the food and the atmosphere – usually. Today it was quiet and relatively slow but one table made up of four people, started to chat rather loudly after they finished eating. Of course this is par for dining out – it’s what people do – they eat, they talk, then they carry on with their day.

But this conversation – it hit home. It enraged me. I almost pulled up a chair to their table to figure out the nuances of it because I wanted to verbally bitch slap the woman with the short brown hair into 2014.

The table was comprised of two adult women and two obviously teenaged boys. They appeared to be brothers. One was probably mid-late teens with the other one just getting started. The younger one had a speech impediment. It was not at all horrific, it just made him sound as if he had an accent of sorts. In fact, that’s what I thought it was at first until I listened closer. While I hate this analogy, he sounded like Elmer Fudd but with obviously deeper issues than just his mispronunciation of an “r”.

The conversation was innocuous at first – discussing swimming, school work, etc. Then it turned to this young man’s speech.

The adult woman with the brown hair, we’ll call her Hilda for the sake of saving me from typing a lot more than necessary, laid into this poor young man for his speech. “You’re going to have a hard time getting a job..yadda yadda yadda… you should try harder, if you just don’t move your tongue… maybe if you did yadda yadda yadda..I can barely understand what he says most of the time.” You get the drift.

Hilda kept on at him.

He defended himself.

She kept going.

He KEPT defending himself. Finally he asked where the bathroom was and left. I ALMOST went over when he left but decided that IF I did anything, I wanted him to be there when I did it so he would KNOW that people are willing to stand up for him and not everyone is going to tear him down.

But I didn’t.

I let the ball of anger grow in my heart, this rage for this young boy who was being attacked within earshot of me by someone I assumed to be his caretaker (mother, aunt, whatever.. she was obviously close to him). I just sat there and eventually J gave me the keys to the van so I could leave and as I did, I overheard Hilda ask the boy to say “Girls.”

He said, “Goils.”

“Now, say it again but don’t move your tongue.”

“Goils.”

“There! I think it sounds better without you moving your tongue.”

Only there was no noted difference.

I muttered, loudly under my breath as I left, “What, are you some sort of SPEECH THERAPIST? JEEZ, lady!”

This evil woman. This sorry excuse for a human being is making this poor boy think that he is going to LOSE at life because of his speech impediment. She is setting him up for failure before he EVEN GETS STARTED AT LIFE IN THE BIG WORLD. I left without doing anything. I LEFT WITHOUT SHOWING HIM THAT PEOPLE WILL STAND UP FOR YOU.

I should have said something. I should have told him that as long as he is doing the best he can with what he has, that’s all anyone should ever expect of him. Of course we all want to strive to be better. As a mother with a daughter who has her own speech issues due to a cleft palate, I should have stood up and fought for him against this horrible monster. I have seen the strength it takes to pronounce a single sound when your mouth isn’t built quite right and know the complexities involved in forming what we take for granted in perfect pronunciations. So he has a lisp or an impediment. Big deal. He’s still an awesome kid and doing the BEST HE DAMN WELL CAN. Recognize that. Build THAT up. Don’t tear it down because that? That is not helping.

Don’t assume because someone talks differently that they are stupid. Don’t assume that they are idiots or that they can’t talk right simply because YOU cannot understand them. The issue there – with not understanding them – is YOURS, not theirs. FOR THEY ARE COMMUNICATING THE BEST THEY CAN WITH WHAT THEY HAVE. Are you listening the best you can with what you have? Are you merely listening to what they are saying or are you striving to actually HEAR what they have to say beyond what may originally sound like garble to you?

For the record, I understood EVERY single word this young man said and I wasn’t even sitting across the table from him as Hilda was doing. His speech impediment isn’t that bad in my opinion. But according to the way Hilda discussed it, you’d think it was some horrific “he will never be able to communicate with the world at large” issue. Only it is not that way at all.

In my humble opinion, Hilda is the one with the impediment because she fails to see the beautiful, driven, dedicated young man who is fighting with all his might to communicate with others. She fails to see that he is already miles ahead of her emotionally because instead of tearing her down in response, he simple defended himself.

I should have said something. So instead, because I didn’t stand up then, I am writing about it now. Maybe this is the coward’s way out. But I could be quiet here too – quiet on a platform I have at my fingertips. When someone else is being torn apart and there is something you can do, you shouldn’t just walk away. I failed. But I am writing this because I want to apologize for walking away and hopefully inspire someone else to NOT follow in my footsteps.

If we all stood up for those who are caught in the sights of a bully (like Hilda), the world would be a far more awesome place and maybe the bullies would think twice before attacking someone and tearing them down.

 

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Being Me


Growing up female is tricky business. There’s so much we’re expected to do, expected to say, nod, smile, grin, hide the negative, put on your happy face, kiss ass, kick ass, love this because everyone else does and OH MY GOD don’t do that because it’s not lady like.

I’d like to take a second to thank my parents for not raising me to bow down to those around me but instead taking the time to encourage me to question everything, dig deeper, be strong, to foster my desire and passion for writing, and above all else, raising me to be HAPPY.

Sure there are things they wish I was doing instead of what I am doing right now, a vision they probably had for my life but they have always supported me…or at least made me feel supported in whatever I chose as my path.

So for me, when I’m not happy, I have failed. When I’m not myself, I have failed. I haven’t failed when I don’t kiss someone’s ass just because I should. I haven’t failed because I haven’t achieved some sort of materialistic goal. I haven’t failed because things aren’t in some sort of perfect magical sublime order (although my OCD disagrees vehemently with that statement).

Things could be better, sure. I’d really love to be employed. That would rock. But I’m not. What I am is fulfilled. There’s not a paycheck with that, no, but there is peace, happiness, and a strong sense of self. I am doing, right now, exactly what I am meant to be doing.

What anyone happens to think of that does not matter to me.

It doesn’t matter to me that someone thinks I *should* be getting paid. Or that I *should* be doing this or I should have tried harder at that. Wanna know why? That worry is theirs to bear, not mine. That worry is not on my back.

I’ve survived hell more than a few times. Yes, others have gone through worse hells but this one, this one is mine. Filled with potholes of chronic pain, Postpartum Mood Disorders, loss to cancer, addiction of a spouse, a special needs baby, divorce, and the struggle to redefine myself after living an a hostile environment for so very long – an environment which I allowed to completely turn my sense of self inside out.

I’m writing this in response to a post over at Schmutzie’s place entitled “We Can Become Known”. Go read it. I guarantee you’ll be empowered to write a post of your own. If not, it’ll give you something to think about for a bit.

When I was in therapy, one of the TOUGHEST things my therapist asked me was “Do you know who you are? Really know who you are?” Then she challenged me with this beauty…”I don’t think you’ve ever truly shown your true self to anyone, not even to yourself.”

Wow.

You try sitting across from someone who has just said this to you and stay tear-free as you realize, “Fuck. No. I haven’t. FUCK. Who the hell am I???” Yeah. That session rocked my world.

Do I know who I am now?

Yeah, sorta, kinda, okay, maybe not but sorta…um… what was the question? I’ll be figuring out who I am until the second I take my last breath because I believe every experience, every exchange, changes us to a certain extent. Maybe not to our core (although there are those type of experiences out there – trust me – I’ve had a few) but they change us ever so slightly.

For the first time in years, and I do mean, in YEARS, I am comfortable in my own skin. I am comfortable in my own head, in my own soul. I’ve hit the trifecta and baby, can’t nobody stop the trifecta.

The best part of all of this? I’m with someone now who loves me for ME, supports me, and is happy to just BE himself with me. Seriously, y’all.. this is the hollywood ending. I’m not gonna lie and say it’s not work, because it is – but when it’s honest, compassionate, filled with trust, and adorned with love – it’s a hollywood ending even if there is a lot of behind the scenes work.

All that hell I’ve been through makes it worth that much more.

I’m growing bolder in lifting the veil off the person I’ve become over the past two years, figuring out how to translate it all into words which sit on a page (or the Interwebz). Like a giant glacier, I am thawing in the ever-warming world, water oozing into a waiting and welcoming ocean.

I may not be perfect, but I’m me.

And in the words of Amy Poehler (via Tina Fey via Schmutzie’s blog):

“I don’t fucking care if you don’t like it.”
Because I’m done bending over and making people happy just because that’s what the world expects me to do – I’ve never been very good at it anyway.
Besides.
As Laura Thatcher Ulrich once stated, “Well-behaved women seldom make history.”

Whatever Wednesday: Things I’m Afraid To Tell You


In 2011, I dove out of my life, headlong into a brand new one. I still have no idea where that life is going but I can tell you that it’s been a hell of a journey.

There were days when I wasn’t quite sure who I was. Days when I fell apart and didn’t want to get out of bed. Days when I reached the bottom, wanted to delve even further, and never come back up for air. There were days when I didn’t want to breathe. Days when I sat, for what seems like forever, in front of my netbook, begging my brain to cooperate so I can write something for this blog. Yet nothing comes so I write for other websites about non-postpartum issues.

After all of this, I finally know who I am. I like who I am.

Here’s the thing I’m afraid to tell you and afraid to tell myself but I’m going to say it anyway – I have no idea how to merge who I used to be with who I am now. I’m at a crossroads, foot firmly on the brake, unable to move forward in any direction.

Frozen.

Do I need to merge the woman I used to be with the woman I am now? Is it necessary for me to move forward? Has the merge already happened as I have grown over the past year? How do I continue to do what I do here as a single woman and no longer an active full time parent? Am I still qualified to provide advice and support? Are my experiences negated now that I have stepped out of the very life which caused them?

These are the thoughts which race through my head. The thoughts which give me reason to stop and wonder about the very future of my blog….about my future. When I was a stay-at-home mom, I fought for my identity as me. Now,  I fight as me for my identity as a mother.

I have no doubt that the future which awaits me is filled with joy, happiness, love, and peace. A future in which I will no longer be lost to myself or to those closest to me. It is faith which has carried me this far and faith which will carry me until my days in this world are done. This is all I know, all I need to know. Learning to fully trust faith, to fully trust the plan laid out for my life, however, is the challenge I face now.

I am learning to lean hard on God with every day. In His time, I will understand and find my answers. Until then…I will wait, with joy in my heart, clinging to hope and fighting the ever closer creeping fear with fierce prayers emanating from my very soul.

This post written as part of a movement, Things I Am Afraid to Tell You. I realize it’s supposed to be more of a list, but this is how mine came out and I am okay with that.

You can find more brave bloggers sharing what they’re afraid to tell you here.

On Accepting Myself


Do you accept yourself, as you are?” my therapist asked, as she sat across from me, staring at me, awaiting an answer.

My lips tingled, the feeling spread to my nose and upward. I thought long and hard, my lips twitching every so often as I readied an appropriate answer. Alas, the only appropriate answer suprised even me. I shook and stuttered, my throat nearly closing with fear as it escaped my vocal cords and traveled forever before escaping my lips.

No.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know, dammit. Because so much has changed? Because I don’t know who I am anymore?”

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know.”

I don’t know.

It’s a frightening thing to realize you don’t know who you are anymore. To realize you lost yourself somewhere along the way. In your head, you retrace all your steps. All your missteps. Your judgments. Your choices. You wonder where you lost your sense of self. Why you lost your sense of self. Did you sacrifice it for a worthy cause? Did a thief sneak in and steal it? Did you stop caring? What the hell happened to you? When did you give into the vortex and let life sweep away your essence? How do you get it back?

Slowly. Deliberately. Passionately.

Once you’ve realized you’ve lost yourself, there’s room for re-invention. For rediscovering your essence and purpose. Sure, what’s gone needs to be mourned. But the possibilities for what can be are limitless and only bound to confines created by you. There’s no box. No pre-determined fate into which you must mold yourself. There’s only the infinite possibility of what you will become. Freedom awaits you. All you have to do is reach out and grab it, hold on, and enjoy the ride.