It’s been a while since I wrote a blog. I've started some but erased them because they just weren't clicking.
I have 7 weeks of grad school to complete and then I’m done--hopefully forever—I hate homework.
In order to graduate, I have to write my thesis project. Our writing program is non-fiction based, so my thesis must be a non-fiction piece—it’s a story about my life.
I’ve spent weeks writing this thing and it is emotionally draining to say the least. I’ve been reading through old journals during the process in order to keep events fresh in my mind—that’s also emotionally draining.
It’s amazing what the brain chooses to forget. It’s also amazing to see how much I have changed in the past 4 years.
I guess I am most surprised by how easily I allowed myself to become a shell of who I really was. I wish I could turn back the clock and give my children the mother they deserved earlier in their lives and see how differently they would turn out—but there is no sense in putting those ideas in my head. I did the best I could at the time. I just had no idea that I had become that person.
I became a person who would fight battles for my children and my friends, but never fought for myself. I never made anyone treat me with respect. I’m sure a therapist would say it was because I didn't respect myself. But I don’t see it that way exactly.
Writing this thesis has opened my eyes to how broken I was before I even married to my exhusband. My life was a series of “getting so close to the prize” but always falling short because someone else put their needs ahead of mine—I put their needs ahead of mine.
As a mother, I feel like I should put my needs before my children. I think most mothers instinctively feel that way. But I put my happiness on the back burner for everyone else and it wasn't because they made me—it was because I felt comfortable with that arrangement.
I guess the biggest wish is to go back in time to find my child self and whisper in her ear—“You don’t have to feel guilty for being happy. It’s okay to get your way, too.” And while I know that I cannot do that either, I can just continue to whisper it to my adult self.
It’s not selfish to make yourself happy. As a mother, you should make your happiness the number one priority, because your children cannot be happy when you are sad—I know that first-hand.
I’ve also realized that I needed all of those bad experiences in my life to get to where I am today. I finally have my hands on the prize—there is no more “getting so close” anymore.