Tag: healing

The less I understand her..

Published on by lacylynnetteLeave a comment
One of my favorite things about mornings is packing his lunch for the day.

The more time that I give to my son, the less I understand her. I just saw a video on this topic but in the opposite breadth– understanding a mother’s love as you yourself become one. My mom was so often annoyed by hugs, wouldn’t keep me home with her even on the one occasion that I cried for it (she was stay at home but we went to the babysitter every day while my dad worked), and used being her daughter- or rather not getting to be her daughter– as a form of punishment. It’s kind of crazy to think about now, as I continue this dive into what it is now to be a mother to my own son. I’m actually blown away by how quicky those memories and normalcies for me at that time all feel so foreign and unbelievable now. There is no stronger, no bigger, no more beautiful a love and I am embracing it with everything I have until that inevitable day when I am no longer the coolest and bestest in his world. He will always be in mine.

Never forget.

Published on by lacylynnetteLeave a comment

Elephants don’t forget.. or mostly they don’t. It can be a bit of an exaggeration. I have always been highly interested in the concept of how much they likely remember though and the connections they maintain throughout their lives. Elephants can live for many years during which they follow a matriarch. They are far more likely to follow a 50 year old matriarch over a 30 year old one. They prefer to follow one who is experienced and wise. 

Last night,  I could barely sleep at all. I must have tossed and turned the entire night and when I finally did fall asleep, I woke up early and laid in bed next to him for hours. The whole house was so silent and all I could think about was the burn of a new tattoo on the back of my neck. Something had stirred within me all night.. and my past– my journey– was burned on the back of my neck. I can’t explain it. Through my relationship with him over the past two years, I have had to really stop and confront my demons and it has been so painful at times. Sometimes I even feel ugly for my insecurities or unlovable. For awhile, I struggled with having them at all. I wanted to be perfect, the way I am sure that he thought I was when we first started dating. But I am not perfect and I shouldn’t try to be.. and he loves me anyway. I am learning that too. 

And for all of the times that I feel ugly for the anxiety inside as I work through all of the baggage that I’d hidden in a closet somewhere instead of dropping off on the side of the road as I should have, this tattoo is a beautiful picture of that struggle. It’s a reminder.. my reminder.. of all that I have come from and all that I have to look forward to. My experiences only make me stonger.

“Forget what hurt you but never forget what it taught you.” 

Outside the box.

Published on by lacylynnetteLeave a comment

Twenty seven… I was twenty seven years old and still I had never opened my heart to someone who might break it. I had never even opened my hand to allow in some else’s much less something breakable. Who does that? Mostly those who get hurt and sometimes those who get lucky. At twenty seven, I am independent, I am strong, and I don’t believe in love. Love is fleeting. Love almost certainly goes away in time. I don’t need fleeting. I don’t need love.

And then enters a man who takes everything that I know and turns it upside down. He talks to me; I don’t look at his face. He texts me; I (intentionally) wait an hour to reply. He tells me he’s taking my wall down; I don’t believe him. I have a whole lifetime of research to refer to. He’ll be gone in twenty minutes. No worries here.

But he just keeps coming back, again and again. He doesn’t stopping looking at me, he doesn’t stop texting and he doesn’t go away. Who is this person? More importantly– why the fuck me?

It took so long for me to realize what kind of box I’d placed myself in. I’d spent a good deal of time in my late teens/ early twenties telling myself just how strong I was, and how brave. Look at me! I don’t need a single soul to get by. I have come back from the bottom, taken nothing and made it something amazing. Yes– and yet, here I was in the crappy little box I’d placed myself in and marked in big black letters: DAMAGED. Powerful and strong for me and those who needed me. Too damaged for those who wanted me. I was selling myself and the possibilities so short and mostly due to a fear of failure. I didn’t want to try and then fail so I just didn’t try at all. But not this time. Not with this one.

It’s over nine months later and I’ve not only let him through my wall but so deeply into my life. We laugh, argue, cry (that one’s all me), we kiss and we make up and I’ve only recently stopped looking for him to walk out the door and out of my life. It’s a process. It’s not easy. It never could be. But he makes easier. And that’s all I’ve ever needed.