It isn't your fault and you are not to blame.. but sometimes, my PTSD makes me see HIM instead of you. I forget who I'm talking to. I'm not talking to my loving spouse anymore.. I'm fighting with my abusive ex.
Now, take a deep breath; and imagine just the opposite. Two years have gone by and your life has changed in ways you never could have imagined. Your heart has healed. Your mental and emotional health is accounted for. There's a man in your life who reminds you just how loyal, loving, passionate, and driven you are. He encourages your self-improvement and pours himself into you daily. His family and friends have stepped up and offered their resources, things they were never obligated to do (but that's just the kind of people they are). You have accepted help when it was hard, and, in turn.. gained a higher sense of respect and humility.
No matter how you became a mom, how things have changed since, how much help you have or how little you get.. take pride in your work as a mom today. There is no other love in the world like the kind that your children have for you. And as much as I'd like a break (and vacation too), I will never find a love so true.
But trust me when I say, that the love you may find after losing yourself to someone who didn't truly love you, will make you realize why it was never supposed to work with anyone else. And that.. is the beauty of breaking the cycle.
I felt more connected in that moment than I ever have in my entire life. In the midst of tears, my eyes finally closed and my head finally bowed and the background scuffle of life finally silenced. For a moment, it was just you, me, and Him. It was a weightless feeling, a vulnerable feeling, but most importantly: a surrendering feeling.
Being so blessed to have the title of 'Mom' means so many things; it means 'Organizer' and 'Planner' and 'Cleaner.' It means 'Fix-It Lady' and 'Cooking Lady' and 'Chauffer Lady.' It means you get to take care of endless laundry, calculate the finances, schedule appointments, meet with teachers, plan the meals, buy the necessities, kiss the boo-boos. It means you are responsible for another person's life more than your own. It means dignity and beauty and compassion and power.
The main issue here, stems from being broken. It rises from insecurities and shortcomings and strong tendencies to protect myself. After you've been hurt before, and I mean bad, it becomes nearly impossible to be readily vulnerable. Vulnerability is a scary place, and with each emotion that brings me there, my fight or flight kicks in (almost simultaneously).
I've viewed Krysta as the ultimate puzzle. Difficult, but not impossible. Strange tendencies that include self-sabotage, emotional instability, mood swings, depression; all twists and turns to the maze that is Krysta.
As I tucked my children in bed tonight, I reminded them about our day and how wonderfully kind the woman at the store was. If there's anything I wanted to come of it, it's that my kids learn the value in being compassionate towards others. Of being appreciative for what is given. Of practicing humility when it's least convenient.
I'll never forget the way you looked at me only a week after we met, when we laughed for hours about nonsense that made us cross our eyes and sweat. You threw your head back and sighed, "I feel like I'm in high school again," and we locked eyes. I could feel what you meant. We laughed like love-struck teenagers, and we fell in love like we were each other's firsts.