2013, the year to come

This year I’ll celebrate my 30th birthday, before that I’ll celebrate a 10th wedding anniversary – my own. My youngest will turn 5, my oldest 8. We’ll pass the one year mark in our home, a deed with our names on it. I’ll plant a garden. Again. Finally.

I don’t have resolutions to proclaim this year, more like things I just won’t keep doing to myself.

I will (try to) stop waking up behind.

“I didn’t get enough sleep.”
“I shouldn’t have had that {insert food} yesterday.”
“I’m not losing enough weight, working out enough, being healthy enough.”

Enough with not enough. I already have everything I need.

I will (try to) stop waiting for pain.

The other shoe to drop? Feeling the pain in life means you’re capable of feeling the happiness. I like the happiness, the joy. It’s amazing. So I’ll stop looking for the darkness in the corner. I’ll leave it alone and let the sun shine bright today.

I will learn to stop barricading.

We’re all our toughest critic and I’m extremely hard on myself. When one good word comes my way – I instantly calculate how long it’ll last before they give up on me.

This is dangerous. It’s detrimental to growth of almost any kind. Relational, spiritual, personal.

I consistently ask for love but I never accept it. I’m always barricading my heart but dangling it infront of the ones I want the most to hold it.

Aaron, will you please love me more? (He does, he always does.) SLAMS THE DOOR ON HIS FACE. HELL NO. YOU WON’T LOVE ME. THIS IS RISKY. THIS MUCH VULNERABILITY AND TRUST HURTS IN WAYS I CAN’T EXPLAIN. I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE.

Distance, shame, insecurity – and repeat. Over and over and over again.

One of the best things about unpacking boxes to permanently live in a place is this (also, one of the best things we did for ourselves and each other while dating …) – finding our journals. I’ve kept a journal since I was 11 and I found Aaron’s.

He journaled his way through our three years of dating. Mostly the first one, then our first year of marriage. And I recently read it again. It was like hearing it for the first time. How he fell in love with me, what fears he had, when and how he thought about me – his hopes and dreams for me. How he wrote about my vulnerability and what that did to him.

Sometimes I get caught up in fantasy. Oh, if only he loved me like this. I wish the Notebook was my love story. I want that kind of passion. I want someone to want me, to need me. I want I want I want.

Here’s what I realized after reading our story through his eyes: I already have all of that. I have I have I have. I love his words, I’m so glad I have them to remember.

I will (try to) stop worrying.

About my kids, mostly. The older they get the more wound up I am about them. Their safety. Their character. It’s supposed to be the other way around – worry when they’re tiny and let go as they grow up. The closer they get to leaving my house, the tighter I hold onto them. Which, I don’t want to do. I want them to want to come back to me – any time. I don’t want to keep them here.

So … 2013,

2013CHEERS

2 thoughts on “2013, the year to come

  1. “Enough with not enough. I already have everything I need.”

    Exactly! (This should be my mantra too.)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *