Dear Khylee…
There are so many things I want to tell you about life. The battle of parenting is when. When are the stories of pain, disarray, and growth as a girl evolving into a woman appropriate for you to learn? How should I go about it? Should I just launch into a full-blown tell all of all the mistakes I’ve made that you should learn from? Or do I give you freedom, to make your own choices and learn however you need to? I’m conflicted. So as I sit here, I want to share the highlights and lowlights of people, of things, of lessons. Take them as you will and ask me anything. You’re my baby girl and no matter where you go or who influences that, it won’t change.
Love.
Love is hard.
Love is complicated.
Love shouldn’t be painful, but for years for me it was.
I’ve been abused physically. Slammed against the wall for having a friend to talk to when I was told to be in isolation, to wait for him to save me. Mentally, been told that I won’t ever find someone better and I need to accept that. Left to hide in the small space listening to the screaming and yelling beneath me. Manipulated to the point where I questioned my self worth and felt the need to rebel against everyone and everything, only to be told I was a bad mom for it, for protecting you the only way I knew how.
Anxiety.
Anxiety is a push.
Anxiety is juggling.
Anxiety feels like hold the entire world on your shoulders because you have to.
I hid my anxiety for years in the form of busy. It felt like I had to do everything, and I had to do it perfectly. Perfectly so you would never look at me as a mom who didn’t do enough, who wasn’t a role model. I wanted to be everything to you, but the pain of what I had gone through and was going through I internalized. A sponge soaking up the discontent that surrounded me as a way to disinfect the wounds that would cover you internally. As I cleaned, I refused to realize that I could only hold so much, before I needed to be wrung out to start again.
Depression
Depression is a black hole.
Depression is a black hole with no bottom.
Depression feels like your falling and there is no one with the capacity of catching you.
Inside I let myself get sad. I wake up every day and put a smile on my face in order to go out into the world appearing confident never letting them see me fall. You saw me those days. Those days when I was so sick that all I wanted to do was sleep. Those moments when mom didn't seem right, but I got back up and put on my happy smile and kept going, burying it deeper and deeper. Then I looked in your face. I saw the pain of a new situation that you weren’t ready to handle and I thought… I can't do this to her. I can’t let her not learn to cope with it. So we got you some help. Through that…. I realized that I needed some help too.
In the end, life throws you curveballs. Things don’t pan out like they are supposed to and all the other cliches. In all this sadness I found my light.
You are the beacon.
The influence that pulled me out of the darkness.
I wasn’t supposed to have any children, but bright-eyed at 7lbs. 7 oz. you came into the world.
Ever since you’ve been my everything.
Oh and on love. I’ve kissed some frogs. Some poisonous ones, but we found a prince who makes one fantastic stepdad. For him I am grateful and although he isn’t the dad who brought you into this world, he is the dad you needed and the husband I did. It’s not about being the damsel waiting for someone to save you, it’s about picking up a sword and continuing the fight.
We’ve made it through so much KED. Divorce, making some lifelong friendships, moving, mommy getting remarried, therapy, seizures, pacemakers in bladders, so Much. I can’t summarize it, but the quote that we read every day, hanging in our doorway sums it up.
“We are all broken, but that’s how the light gets in.”
I love you,
Mommy
