No one ever expects swerves in the road, never-mind, avalanches that change life so unforgettably; but they do happen, and we’re left to either run away—letting yourself slowly build towers around your heart, or face them— letting yourself rebuild, stronger, healthier, happier.
I know you two look to me (dad too) for everything from hugs to advice, to a safe space to tantrum after keeping it together all day at school. I feel like sometimes I’m fooling you. See, so often you think that as a “grown-up,” I have all the answers, that by having grown well into my adult years, I have this whole “life” thing figured it. Turns out, I don’t—I mean I really, REALLY don’t. Am I ashamed? The furthest thing from it. I now know nothing else to be truer.
See, these past four years have taught me that it’s not about “knowing” the answers, or worse, pretending I do; but instead about being present in, and vulnerable and accepting of the “now,” with you and with my own “unknowing,” and being honestly forthcoming and saying, “I don’t know, but let’s figure this out together.”
In so many ways, I feel like I’ve done so much growing up myself alongside you. Four years ago, life gave me that post-avalanche choice once again—and this time I decided to stop “perfecting, studying, busying, running (etc., because oh, does that list march on)” from my own pain. I chose to look so many not so beautiful truths head on.
I went from rarely ever crying, ever, to finding myself crying all those (never realized) tears in expedited fashion. I allowed years of tears wash over me—a baptism of sorts, those of pain, of joy, of relief, of sadness, of laughter, of finally standing on solid ground, alone. I found my adult self only after holding my inner child so tight, finally asking her what she needed, which it turns out was all I’ve always craved as an adult but have never had the strength to ask for out loud—love, peace, acceptance for being me, the girl that beats by a drum no one can hear, a girl that loves so hard but had so much armor up to be able to receive that love in return. To love my perfectly (absolutely) imperfect self, unapologetically.
I left my armor at my own metaphorical door—and I crawled back home to my heart + soul, the parts of me where I had once left doors of wholehearted hope, joy, laughter, and tears almost closed.
This Mother’s Day, I wanted to tell you again how so grateful I am for you, the two humans, and fur-babies, who have loved my imperfect self so perfectly, and allowed me to grow up, learn, heal, and honor myself and needs, beside you.
You’re all I’ve ever dreamed of and the greatest love I’ve ever known. I love you THIS much!