Day 05 of 30 day challenge

day 05- A thank you letter to someone who has changed your life

You were not planned and not expected.
You were gone as soon as we knew you were there.
Maybe you knew without knowing that our life was not quite ready for you yet.
I think of you more often than I ever thought I would. I wonder what life would have been if you had become a part of our lives.
I would never have been able to decide to wait. You must’ve known it wasn’t the right time. So you made the choice we never could have. You left us with nothing but a memory, and none of us will ever know what might have been.

They said you were never more than a few cells. You never even had a heartbeat.

But I still think about you. I think of your hair, your chubby hands. Trucks and mud. Barbies and lipstick. All the toys and diapers.

And I think of the gift you gave us, in giving us a few more years.

I wonder if there’s a shadow of you in what would have been your little sister. I wonder if you’d have had the curls she does. If you’d have still been in our bed when she came along.

Thank you for the minute we had with you. Thank you for the perspective you gave me on what life is.

I don’t know if I believe in an afterlife, but if there is one, you are well met. You have great grandparents who are no doubt loving every minute I’ve missed.

And if there is something after this, I can’t wait to hold you.

Thank you. I love you still.

Love,
Mama

Let it be

(the picture? That’s my Memorial Day Maxedon margarita, I just thought you needed to see it.)

Why is it so difficult to just leave shit alone?

Not literal shit, obviously. That stuff is gross and sticky and sometimes white. I remember marveling over white dogshit when I was a kid.

One day I’ll learn to stop going back and clarifying myself, and I’ll just let you all think what you will. It’ll probably save everyone some embarrassment since I tend to ramble.

ANYWAY. I had every intention of trying to be provocative.

My point is this: shit happens. It does. It happens and it sucks and yet why do we have to revisit the hurt?

I have hurt people in my life. I think about it every day.
I have been hurt by people in my life. I think about that every day.

I don’t try to do either of those, they just happen.

Of course if I made a conscious decision to think about hurtful things less, then I’d spend so much time thinking about not thinking about things that I’d finally look around and realize that my kids had all graduated and my teeth needed to be brushed.

And what would that accomplish?

It does us no good to wallow in pain and to grasp onto hurt. Yet I know that it’s just exactly what I often do.

I really can’t decide why. I’ve thought about it and maybe it’s because in feeling legitimate hurt, maybe it’s a safe place? Maybe there’s something to be said for keeping hold onto a pain that you are justified in feeling because that takes away the work of moving on.

I don’t want to wallow. I don’t want to be the wallower and I don’t want to be the cause of wallowing.

I suppose I’m saying that I want, from here on out, to live my life day to day. I want to forget hurt and remember healing. Love. There’s no point in hurting myself or anyone else.

Progress begins today, and I will learn to let be what has been.

Writing prompt #152

Freewrite for 3 minutes on this cliche: “ice water in her veins.”

Ice water? That makes no sense. No one could live on ice water blood.
I realize it’s not literal. Realism. Whatever.
This IS a cliche. I’ve heard that so many times. Not about me, I don’t think anyone knows me well enough to think that.
Maybe my husband, but if he thought I was ice water queen bitch wouldn’t I know that by now?
I have warmth. I totally do. I just can’t stand to mollycoddle the masses. How’s that for a phrase, “mollycoddle the masses?” holy shit, sometimes I’m awesome. Except times like just then when I misspell awesome four times in a row.
I’ve missed free writing, I haven’t done this in years. YEARS.
So much has changed, lately. It’s sucked, but that’s how it goes I guess. When you’re stupid and don’t think.
Actually, actually THAT situation is one I guess that would qualify my veins as ice water. But whatever. Everyone makes mistakes, or at least thats what i have to tell myself. My apologies are made. Why am I even talking about this?
I’m so lucky. Someone with ice water blood wouldn’t even realize that, right? I mean, I always pictured someone with ice water in their veins (or someone that would fit that description) would have entitlement issues and be all snooty.
And I am totally not. Entitled, that is. Sometimes I’m sure I seem snooty but that’s just because sometimes I don’t talk because I’m scared of Michael Scotting myself into some shameful situation.
I say sometimes a LOT, wow.

Anyway so my point is I do NOT have ice water in my veins.
I’ve just realized no one was saying that I was the one with the ice water. I suppose that the fact that I automatically took that to mean myself says something substantial about the way I perceive myself, or the way I think others perceive me.

I’ve always just wanted people to like me and I want to simultaneously not care if they like me or not. I would make a horrible politician.

Well, three minutes was faster than I thought.

this post doesn’t have an image and that breaks the rules.

Basically there are some terms you never think will apply to you.

Liar.
Fake.
Hypocrite.
Bitter.
Coward.
Judas.
Hopeless.
Selfish.

What’s bad is when you realize that you are all those things and more.

That you’ve hurt people you love.

That you can’t fix anything.

I suppose it would make a difference if solid reasoning behind your actions existed, or maybe not. It doesn’t matter because usually there’s no such thing.

To be honest, there’s always reasoning, solid or not.

A long unforgiven hurt, a jealous streak, a need for revenge.
Maybe a need for validation, in whatever context it might come.

What I guess I’m saying is that good people do the right thing without a second thought. Crazy people do the wrong thing because it’s wrong, or maybe without even a concept of what wrong is.

But bad people know that something is wrong and they do it anyway.

I’m a bad person.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

For the people I’ve hurt, you know who you are. Words are trite and flimsy, but they’re all I’ve got.

For anyone else, I’m not going to expound. I’m embarrassed and I rightly feel totally wretched.