The Who

My mom used to always tell me, "If I could give my kids one gift, it would be confidence."

She always wanted to raise confident kids.  I thought it was sweet, and it made my chest swell to hear her say it... kind of like I mattered enough to her that she desired gifts for me.

Now I have three kids of my own, and I'd like to take my mother's idea and say, "If I could give my kids one gift, it would be to know exactly WHO they are."

I never truly understood who I was growing up.  I sought validation from everyone and everything around me.  I wanted others to approve of me, even if it meant shoving down my intuition.  Relationships were formed on what others had to offer me (validation, praise, approval), not out of pure love.

I watched others from a distance who were amazing at forming relationships.  They didn't seem fazed by what the other thought of them, nor did they invest wasted time into wondering if they were "enough" for the relationship.  These people also seemed to have a knack for investing in themselves and doing acts of service.  They developed their own talents and skills and in turn seemed naturally more aware of others' needs.

It baffled me -I could see what I wanted, but I was at a total loss as to THE HOW of arriving there.

I tried.  Oh, how I tried.  I tried to form normal relationships with boys that wasn't riddled with trying to get them to like me, trying to be beautiful enough.  I tried to form relationships with girls that didn't involve me self-sacrificing the crap out of myself to try and somehow fit in.

I had one friend -one lasting true friend -who always showed me the greatest example of this.  I watched her for years wondering how she did it, how she seemed to naturally connect with others no matter their age, race, or physical appearance.  How did she do it?  What's more, how did she continue a relationship with ME so lovingly?  I could be so selfish, so self-interested, so shallow.  She never was.
The truth is, I think, that she loved me.  I never had to earn anything, it was simply just there.  She loves a lot of people, and she's genuine about it all.

It's becoming very clear to me that she's always had more of an understanding about who she is -a daughter of God, a daughter of a King, a literal royal traversing her way through a brief mortal test.

When that fact is understood down deep in my soul, I make different choices.  I don't worry about what others' may or may not think... not only do I not care, I don't give it a second thought.  I make choices that matter: whether that's holding a sick baby or investing in God-given interests, or acting on a prompting.  Life simplifies, and I feel peace.

But that isn't all.
The greatest blessing that's springing from understanding who I truly am is that I see OTHERS for who they truly are as well.  The "less than" and "better than" feelings I've battled for a lifetime are beginning to dissipate.  The beggar woman on the street is suddenly no longer an object, but a sister with a name... and a hot meal, if I can help it.  The celebrities on the screen seem more real, more human, and I find myself feeling equal to them... not in the way society would hold us, but in the way God sees us: children.

Coming to understand this is not a one time "big bang" kind of gift.  It's a life long quest riddled with trials, joys, choices, mistakes, learning, and holy communication with my Father.

And if I could give my kids one gift, it would simply be to have them know WHO THEY ARE.  And I'm pretty sure confidence would follow suit.

At this point in my journey, I'm really enjoying the fruits of spending some time on my own interests.  With Danny's recent disclosure, being true to myself is of paramount importance.  Though it's a work in progress, I've fairly thrown myself into developing my Etsy shop, Kitchen Scratch.  The more I work on it and with it, the more I want to scream to others -seriously GO AND DO what makes you tick, friend!  Each time I finish I project, I feel so good!  I could care less if anything sells because I'm having so much fun.
I set two boundaries for myself with this shop:
1) If I ever felt panic or pressure, I will step away from the shop for as long as it takes.
2) I will make and sell what I love, not what I think others will love.

The more I let myself go and really find antiques and colors and ideas that make my heart soar, the better I feel.  I'm less stressed when I know I'm doing what I should be doing at this point in my life.  Writing, crocheting, digging through antique stores to find treasures!  It's really rewarding, and I'm finding more of myself. 
You should go and do what makes you tick.  Like, now.

 

One of my Christmas gifts from Danny.  And I don't know why, but I feel like I need to tell you I'm wearing a nude undershirt... It looks like skin, but it's not.  Swearsies. 

 

This Weekend

 

via flickriver.com

*Friday night, I told him I feel like he's on emotional overload -exploding at every little spark. (he's recently started really getting really into recovery reading, and it's taking a huge toll on his emotions: trying to process everything, accept that he has to be okay with imperfection...)
*He agreed.
*I told him I've tried to detach and protect our little huddled mass, and prayed for guidance.  The guidance I got?  It's time to spend time apart.
*He disagreed.
*But agreed to take a mancation for a week.  It's camping weather anyway.
*He said, "I wish you would have talked to me before praying about it."
*We discussed -once again -my gut-feeling to turn Black Opps OFF while the kids are around.
*He told me I needed to loosen up.
*He got called into work to raid a house with SWAT (drugs and child porn case).
*He came home and stayed up until 2:45 am with me watching "Bomb Girls" -a TV drama about women in WWII who built bombs.
*We went to bed without VALIDATION sex because sex is off the table right now.  (Also: saying sex is off the table somehow turns me into a 15-year old boy who chuckles and says, "So when is sex going to be on the table?" Har, har.)  Validation sex is not healthy sex.
*Saturday morning, we had another heavy conversation before we even got out of bed.
*He told me there's such a thing as healthy lust.
*I told him I used to think so as well and then shut the heck up before I went into full-blown control/fix mode.
*He told me he was trying to decide if it was time to put sex back on the table (see?  it's kind of funny) and I suggested praying about it and then he said, "But I'm the type of person that has to think things out on my own before I pray about them."
*I took it personally. 
*I took it silently.
*I took a bath.
*I stewed. Literally and figuratively.
*I came out swinging.
*I never come out of anything swinging.
*A few days ago, my husband remarked, "You're so much like the woman I fell in love with eight years ago.  A little more ballsy, but it's all good..."
*I verbally attacked him about how I always pray first, how I'd NEVER go to him first because HE isn't my Savior, and how I WOULD NOT loosen up over the video game because it was my GUT telling me to keep the kids away from it (as opposed to my brain).
*He got defensive.
*An hour of heated discussion later, we came to:

1. He didn't mean anything by his comment of "thinking things out before praying about them" and he wasn't discounting MY experiences with prayer (which even if he was, I should have been fine with except I still want him to validate me.  And I shouldn't.  But I do.  And I'm working on it.  but anyway)
2.  He would stop playing the video game around the kids.

*He ended the conversation by saying, "Just FYI, if you come at me with the tone you did this morning, I will get very defensive."
*I told him that was okay.
*He said, "Yeah, but if you approach me with a nicer tone, I'll be more approachable."
*I told him sometimes I need an aggressive tone under my belt to help keep my courage up -otherwise, I'll cave to fear before voicing my honest feelings.  I felt it was okay, so long as I was respectful of him.  And hey look!  We still like each other.  We didn't YELL.  We didn't hate or name call (which we've never actually done anyway). 
*He was confused.
*We went on a double date (with the baby) and had a rollicking good time together.
*When we stopped at Sam's Club on the way home, the other couple took off toward the snack aisle, and my husband took me in his arms and laid one on me.
*I couldn't remember what was next on the list even though it was right in front of me.
*My husband is an amazing kisser.  He deserves a medal, or something.
*We came home, put the kids to bed, sat up and watched a romantic comedy together.
*We stayed up after the movie and talked.
*He told me he'd thought during the date about my comment after our *ahem* discussion that morning.  He told me he decided I was right.  He couldn't censure himself or his tone because we SHOULD be straight up with each other, "Like the stupid couple on the stupid Notebook."
*My husband makes me laugh when he says stuff like that.
*The baby put herself to sleep, and my husband fell asleep in MY arms which was kind of sweet and also kind of noisy because he has allergies.
*Sunday morning, we slept in and were late to church.
*I cried when my counselor taught the little Primary kids about the Atonement, even when my son loudly announced, "and DEN they whipped Him all over the back wiff a AX!"
*I cried when I came home and my husband told me his body has been begging for relief and was in quite a lot of pain but that he was taking deep breaths and telling his body no and he didn't want me feeling pressure to "help."  Which I did because that's what I'm programmed to do.  He told me he could sense that I was feeling pressure, and only brought up the issue in hopes that I would relax and quit stressing about it.
*I hugged him.  not too closely.
*I went to bed and dreamed my husband cheated on me.
*I woke up in the middle of the night with my heart pounding and fairly smothered him in validation snuggling (which is sometimes healthy).
*I just got a text telling me how much he enjoyed this weekend.
*I didn't realize my husband was a fan of rollercoasters.

Validation

 

via 

My dad has owned his own business for as long as I can remember.  Our family never really had much of anything in the ways of insurance, but it never really mattered too (too too) much.
Among other things, Dad was (is) a rancher.

Society highly underestimates The Rancher's medical knowledge.

So if Dad couldn't diagnose us, we were taken to Grandpa.  If Grandpa couldn't diagnose us, THEN we would go see a doctor.
When I was first married, I became sick.  I didn't get over it.  For months, I was in and out of doctor's offices.  It was hell.
I felt like my husband was acting out because I couldn't "be there" for him when he "needed" me, and I was determined to have my body fixed. 
Finally, a doctor prescribed me anti-depressants.
"I am depressed," I said to him, "I'm depressed because I'm sick."
I left his office in tears.  My husband gently suggested taking the pills.  I not-so-gently told him I would NOT.  They were not what I needed, and I knew it.  I could feel it in my gut.
Through my frustrated tears, I called my Dad.
I spouted off my symptoms to him and didn't bother censuring the descriptions in any sort of way.
"Female part this," I said, "And Female part THAT!"
When I finally stopped and took a breath, my Dad cleared his throat, "Um, you probably want to talk to your mother about this..."
"I DID, Dad!  I DID!  She doesn't know what's wrong... she's never been sick like this."
"Well, it sounds to me like you've got an infection that's trying to work it's way out of your system... at least, that's what happens to my cattle when they have an infection."

Bah!  Cattle.
But guess what?  Dad was right.

Dad's been frustrated lately.

He still owns his own business.  He's still dealing with the insurance end of things, but now Mom is sick.  No one can help Mom.  Grandpa (who is still alive and sharp as ever) can't help Mom.
They've tried pills and supplements and rub and even shots.  Nothing is helping Mom.

My mother gave birth to 4 of her 6 children at home.  Her first born was breech.  She birthed him at home, no pain meds.  When I bring it up, she always waves her hand and modestly says, "Well... I took an Advil."
*sigh* 
My mother is a rock of a woman.  She's pure grit inside and soft pillow outside.  She's determined and hilarious and introverted.  She endured an abusive father, a near-death experience, and stayed at home to raise 6 kids.  Every morning, she would walk about 2 miles and then come home to get breakfast on the table.  We always ate breakfast together.
Now she can't even walk down her own stairs.  To walk at all hurts her.
Dad's insurance finally came through... Mom went to the doctor.
They diagnosed her with extreme arthritis.  Mom is only 53.

A few nights ago, Mom told Grandma about her Dr. visit and her diagnosis.  We all sat around Grandma's table and ate beef tongue tacos (I wish I could say it weirded me out, but those tacos have nothing on Grandma's brains and eggs).
"The doctor looked at my x-rays and told me, 'You are in a lot of pain all of the time, aren't you?' and I was SO RELIEVED!  I thought for sure I was just being a baby... that it wasn't that bad.  That I just needed to get over it.  But hearing those words come out of his mouth made all the difference.  Even if the shots he gave me don't work, I feel better."

I nodded.
MOM UNDERSTANDS exactly how I feel.
Mom understands validation.

Sometimes I hear stories -he cheated, prostitutes, old girl friends, facebook chats, sexting -and I think, 'I'm just being a baby.  This isn't all that bad.  I just need to get over it.'

And just to hear someone say, "You're in a lot of pain all of the time, aren't you?" makes all the difference in the world. 
Even though people who validate me can't fix me, I feel better.

There's a reason I couldn't function for 6 months of my life.
There's a reason I gained ten stress pounds that I can't shake.
It's not because I'm bad or crazy or not enough of a human to deal properly with LIFE... it's just that I was hurting at the time.

I used to think validation was a negative thing, but now I see it for what it is: it gives me clarity.  It helps me to move on. 
In Rhyll's book, she says that women who are married to lust addicts need three things: connection, advocacy, and validation.

How true that is for me! 
How true.
Validation is a spring board for me.