Friday, October 20, 2017

10/20/17 // #metoo

I was 10 when it happened.
I only know this because I still remember the house we lived in.

I wanted to go to my aunt's house so when my mom's friend, who was visiting, offered to give me a ride, I didn't think twice.
On the way to my aunt's, he told me he needed to pick something up from his house before he dropped me off.

I was 10 so I didn't question this.

He told me to come with him while he went inside.

Again, I was 10, so I didn't question this.

I don't remember much of what happened but I'll never forget what he said to me. Those words have lived within my for the past 22 years and I doubt they'll ever go away...I'll never forget them.

I remember that after the assault, instead of taking me to my aunt's house, he drove me to a parking lot a block from my house. When I got out of the car, he told me that if I didn't tell anyone, he would give me things.

I walked home and immediately told my mom.

I don't know what happened afterward. I'm sure I blocked it out in an effort to protect myself. I do know that he wasn't charged and continued to live in my town. I remember seeing him years later and when he saw my face, it was as if he'd seen a ghost. I remember feeling a sense of power over his reaction.

Now, at 32 (and with the #metoo allowing for these stories to be heard), I am remembering things that I, no doubt, suppressed. That man's (he had to be in his 40s when he assaulted me) backyard literally shared a fence with an elementary school. I was 10! That man was a pedophile.

For years I blamed myself for what happened. If I hadn't been so developed at 10, this wouldn't have happened. If I had just walked instead of going inside with him, this wouldn't have happened.

But there is nothing that I could have possibly done at 10 to excuse what happened to me. I was assaulted. And like so many other people in this world, we're not victims, we're survivors.

Saturday, July 29, 2017

07/29/17 // unwanted

I have felt unwanted my entire life. Constantly surrounded by people who never made an effort to get to know me, or even love me. I walked through life as an empty shell, waiting begging for someone to come along and fill me up with their presence. And it never happened. And now I'm a mother trying to raise healthy, happy children, when I'm neither. And even though their love and laughter is the only thing keeping me afloat, I also know that their presence is only temporary. One day they'll leave and start lives of their own. I just hope they still want me.

Monday, July 10, 2017

07/09/17 // a fresh start

a quick note: I am moving in a new direction with this space. After (almost) a year absence, I realized that I want to have this be a space for me to journal. No catchy titles and clique topics, just thoughts and feelings of a mom/wife trying to show up every day and give my all even if that means falling hard along the way. I will still post pictures and touch on our everyday life but I will also post raw, unedited versions of myself as well. So, let's start this new journey. 

//

Life. Life happens fast when you least expect it. One day you think you have it in your grasp only to feel it hit you, hard, just to remind you that it's in control. A year in Hawai`i has come and gone. Even though everything around me is moving so fast, days flying by, turning from sunrise to darkness in the blink of an eye, I am stagnant. Staying the same while life around me changes and evolves. Every day another version of the last until I broke free of the fog of mediocrity and excuses that held me blind for so long (longer than I'd like to admit). I am finally ready to show up every day. To be vulnerable. To hold myself accountable. And to be the mom and wife I know I can be. This journey is long overdue. 

Monday, August 29, 2016

Embracing my Season



Am I the only mom who looks at her children and can't believe that she's their mother?

Maybe but probably not. I swear I was just 21 yesterday and now I'm the mother of three amazing, beautiful children. Children who rely on me now but will eventually leave and start their own separate lives.

I try not to think about that too much because that's just living in the future instead of being present and embracing the season of motherhood that I'm in.

My season is littles running around, never having a completely clean house, temper tantrums and breaking up fights. It's love and exhaustion and frustration and joy on a daily (sometimes minute by minute) basis. It's being completely overwhelmed during the day and laying in a bed filled with little bodies at night knowing I wouldn't have life any other way.

This season of motherhood won't last long. One day I'll blink and my littles will be bigs and I'll swear that yesterday they were small enough to fit in my arms. Until then, I will try my hardest to embrace every moment of this season (even the temper tantrums, they'll make good stories later on) and let the future meet us when we get there.

Sunday, August 7, 2016

Life and Anxiety in Paradise






We live in Paradise. A place where people dream of visiting yet I stay in the house. I have no motivation to leave, to explore. The desire is there. I want to get out but for some reason, it's almost like I'm held prisoner by imaginary bars...maybe there's one of those invisible electric fences surrounding my house and I'm the only one wearing a collar.

If I'm honest (which I really want to be here on this blog, in this space), this isn't new. This happened when we lived in Germany and I always had an excuse why it wasn't a problem but now, now it's obvious. I have only been to the beach once. The picture above with the bright blue sky, green grass and sparkling ocean wasn't taken by me. Will took this picture during one of his many trips to the beach with the kids. On this day in particular, I stayed locked in our hotel room like a vampire afraid to be touched by the sun.

Anxiety is something I've dealt with before. It's something I know I have to will defeat. I mean, what's the point of living in paradise if you don't bask in its aloha spirit.