I Love You Just Because…

The last few days have been re-adjusting to being back from an awesome family vacation.. working again. The first few days are always the hardest. The time off gave me alot of time to think.. and much like many people, my thoughts driftto the past. People that have made an impact on me. In those moments and relationships were alot of life changing moments… good and bad. I was also going through old emails and found some from an ex-significant other (we’ll call it that to protect the innocent). While reading I remembered where I was in my life when I read it the first time. A few pages through the email folder, continuing to read, I was able to create a mental time-line of our relationship. I watched the emails go from adoration and courtship, to familiarity, to hurt, and finally to hatred and disgust. A relationship, full circle.

When I began this relationship I did it for the wrong reasons, and was not yet mature enough to know what all the right reasons for hanging on to a relationship are. I was in love, but not aware of what it meant to actually love someone.. unconditionally. The reason for the high divorce rate in our country, I believe, is that instead of promising to love someone till you die, you promise to love them until you find something that you can’t stand about them, something you can’t change about them, or someone you think is better. I chose to end the relationship without much of a fight, justifying it with reasons why he would hurt me soon, why he did hurt me, why we wouldn’t work out much longer. I broke him, completely. I deal with guilt, alot of it.

That brings me to the lastemail I read, he had written a blog about his progress from moving on from what used to be his “family”. In it he challenged everyone to find someone to love, unconditionally. Someone that you had to make the conscience effort to give your heart to, knowing they may not return it whole. I still struggle with what happened, and have been forgiven by him, but now work quite often to continue to forgive myself. I wonder if my wanting to reach people is partially my own guilty conscience trying to right a past wrong. Or is it that this very broken relationship and the experiences that came along with it changed to way I view love and sharing it.

So every day, I choose to love, choosing to put myself out there, willing to get hurt, beat and broken every single time. Because without the risk, there is no reward. And without someone choosing to love me unconditionally, I would be nothing.

I’ve watched my kids grow, and with the years flying by they’ll be gone soon. For now though, I realized I’ve learned a few things.

1. They are all pieces of me. Meaning more than biologically, they do things and say things and have specific behaviors that were  never told to them, but weirdly they do and just know.
2. I will never know what the crap I’m doing, at least until they are grown and it’s too late to change any damage I’ve done.
3. It’s ok to make mistakes when parenting, and it’s ok to apologize to your children.
4. It’s ok to cry in front of them.
5. I am my mother, and my children will be me.
6. We are tied to our past through our behaviors whether we know it or not

On #6, I mean more than just the actions and events in our lives, I mean our ancestors and our inherited ‘family jewels’. We all pick up certain parts of learned behaviors from those who raise us. However, biologically I believe we carry some silent traits that we may never know existed in our family line, but are passed down through our genealogy only to surface as an oddity. Some of us are fortunate enough to have grandparents and parents to point out that your laugh is identical to a long-passed paternal grandparent. Or that your tendency to ‘adopt’ stray teenagers is something that your great aunt used to do.  My children do things some times and it’s so close to something I put my mom and dad through growing up, it makes me wonder if it’s something more set in their DNA. So then I wonder, if I got my worrying problem from both of my grandfather’s, passed through from my parents, could I change the behavior now, and spare my kids or their kids from chronic worrying? Or is this trait one of the ones that runs so strong in our blood, that no matter what we do, it will always be there? You may say that I learned to worry from my parents, but honestly, while growing up, there was not alot of worry or stress in our house at all, at least not any that was passed on to us kids.

If you split my personality into equal, but different parts, and then made physical manifestations of them, you would get my kids. Each of them uniquely different, but each of them a very accurate reflection of me.

Could I start a behavior and affect it just as much as stopping one? If so, would 6 generations later repeat that behavior not even knowing it’s something I once did? Or is it more about the learned part of things and less about the DNA? I obviously want to set a good example as my parents did for me, but if my parents weren’t as awesome, would I still have turned out as much like my grandparents as I am? So I wonder, if one of my kids were raised by someone else, would they love art because it runs in their blood? Would they care for the unloved, even if no one told them to? Would they worry about things they have no control over because their great-grandparents did? And mostly, would they bring up disgusting topics over food because that’s what grandpa and mommy does?

Whether the influence that shaped me and will shape my children is learned or imprinted, it all works out to the same result. You are going to be our future’s history and your behaviors are the best way to connect to them. So when you sneeze like your great aunt, like to wear different colored socks like your mother, or have a work-ethic like your dad, instead of trying to understand why you are the way you are, embrace it… it might be in your DNA.

Do you ever look at your life and think to yourself that you aren’t where you thought you’d be? I have been the master of my fate, controller of my destiny for longer than I should have been. Making grownup decisions before I was old or wise enough to. Learning, quite often, the hard way. If you threw all the people that have helped or affected those decisions into a room together, most of them wouldn’t have anything in common with each other… a very colorful group. I’ve changed alot over the years, especially the more recent ones. Some things haven’t changed. I still care what people think of me, less than I used to, but still enough to affect some decisions I make. I still put all the needs and most of the wants of my family above anything else. I would give anyone the shirt off my back, if they needed it.. all they have to do is ask. Then there’s alot of things that have changed. I am not as openly trusting as I used to be. I know that people, whether intentional or not, tend to disappoint. I have matured, learning how to make wiser, longer-lasting choices. The last 5 years have been my “move into being a grown-up” years. Through that I didn’t think I could change anymore. Then, the other day I realized that I was in the middle of a big change. One that alot of people I considered as close friends got left behind. Possibly left behind isn’t the right way to put it. We all travel our own path. When I reach a crossroads, some of the people in my life go on the same path I am, and some move in the other direction. Usually parting ways permanently. So, not so much are they “left behind”, but instead, they move on with their lives in another direction. Why is it then, that I have such a huge issue with letting go of some of them? Could it be because I take they’re choice not to stay on a closer running path with me personally? I feel as though they moved away from me instead of realizing that my life is always moving and it may be as simple as theirs isn’t at the moment. Someday I would like to have the ability to care without getting completely attached. Or I would like the ability to accept loss  of a friend without feeling as though it’s a personality flaw on my behalf. Maybe this is why I reach out to strangers, they can’t hurt me as much because if there’s any rejections or lack of response, I can easily move on to any of another 4 million available. Strangers are also like quick snapshots of history, each one sharing their most interesting moments of clarity that they believe will interest or affect me or anyone that will listen. That is why we share parts of ourselves after all, with the hope that someone, somewhere, will care.

9 years and 360 days ago I was pregnant, very pregnant with a child I had grown to love with every inch of my being. I already had a bouncing, beautiful 1.5 year old girl that was my entire world. I had been preparing for the last 8 months of this 9 month pregnancy for decisions I had made and would now have to face and be strong enough to do what was right. Finding out I was pregnant was a shock as the situation I was in was less than ideal. My husband and I at the time were not in a good place towards each other as the very small package I was carrying wasn’t his. I had decided after finding out I was pregnant to explore options, beginning with abortion. I went to a clinic, for several visits, weighing my options, getting information and finally making THE appointment. I was told what it would be like, physically, afterwards and was trying to mentally prepare myself. There was no way I could keep this baby. Then I called it that, a baby. I realized emotionally I could never live with myself, wondering every time I saw a kids about the same age it would have been, what could have been. I canceled the appointment 12 hours before I would have changed several lives.

I then decided to pursue the choice of adoption instead. I didn’t realize at the time, early into the pregnancy that no agency will talk to you until you are well into gestation for fear of you changing your mind and breaking the hearts of some expectant couple. So I picked an agency after some research that believed in open adoption, also a concept I would soon become very, very familiar with. Then I began to pester the crap out of them until they agreed to set an appointment with me. At three months pregnant, and barely even showing, I convinced the representative(I hate the word “case worker”) I was really, really sure about this and wanted to begin the process before I began to get too attached to my baby.

I was given 10 profiles of expectant families and parents. I went through each one, carefully, reading the touching letters to birth moms, the desperation hidden in them for a baby of their own brought me to tears. None of them were just right. I tried to picture all of them with my baby inserted in the pictures of family splattered across the page. I called the representative to let her know and she brought me another set, again… nothing. By the fourth set I began to doubt my choice for this baby, began to doubt the agency and began to doubt everything in general. I was lost, 5 months pregnant and trying to mend a broken marriage while taking care of a increasingly demanding 15 month old. The rep brought me the final set of 5 families, each with a portfolio outlining their needs, desires, foundations and intimate details about their current family makeup. Second to last, bawling my hormonal eyes out, I came across a picture of the “daddy” with two members of the Blue Man Group, the look on his face made me smile. This family had already adopted a little girl 2 years ago and wanted to add one more child to their family. There letters touched me in a way the others didn’t, they just felt.. right. I called the rep immediately and they set up a meeting. When I went to lunch that day and met a very nervous, eager couple, I knew that the baby, though growing inside me, was meant for them.

We hit it off immediately. I was attracted to their stability as a couple, their desire to add to their already adorable family, their philosophies for raising children and the instant connection we had. I could feel the love they had for their baby, yet unknown. I knew soon I’d be feeling this little human kick and move and I needed to focus my attachment from the baby to their family. I knew it was going to be hard enough giving the baby away and I needed to feel completely comfortable about it. They also believed in open adoption and were amazing enough to give me the option of how open I wanted it to be. At that time I wasn’t sure, but did know I couldn’t go through this child’s life wondering how they were every day. They began to go to the monthly doctor appointments, crying at the sound of the heartbeat when I cried, jumping at the chance to feel it kick with looks of wonder matching mine, and beginning to let themselves get excited. We grew close, fast. Before I knew it I was really pregnant and more than ready to not be anymore.

I was at my husband’s work downtown on 02-06-01 timing contractions on a bar napkin. When they reached about 6 minutes apart I called the parents to let them know it was time. The hospital was about 20 minutes away, and we didn’t own a car at that point, so I was told to sit tight and they would come get me. I remember all the mixed feelings flooding my mind. I was about to have a baby, that I’d grown very attached to and give her to a family I’d also grown very attached to. On the way to the hospital I focused on calming them down and tried to keep the negative, fear filled, thoughts away. My husband and I at the time, were still on the rocks. He was sceptical and slightly irritated that I had invited these people to take part in such an intimate experience, though in my mind, there was no other option. If this was their baby, they needed to be there the entire time not only to create that bond you can’t replace at the start of a life, but to also make sure I stayed on track and remembered what this was all about. Bigger than me, bigger than us.

We got to the hospital and settled in. Meaning I got checked, admitted, and drugged, in that order. It was late on the 6th and I tried to sleep, caught up in the moment not really able to fully understand or think over what was about to happen. Early in the morning on the 7th, I heard what I’d been waiting to hear for hours and it was time to have this baby. Hitting automatic pilot, I had the baby, more focused on their faces then what was going on at the other end of the table. The next few moments went by in a blur. I heard the tiniest cry and looked up at the new parents faces, glowing with wonder, tears free flowing down every one’s cheeks. I had been struggling for the last few weeks, not knowing what to do. Some of the stuff I read said it was a good idea to hold the baby, to have the chance to say goodbye and let go, other stuff said it was easier to not see it at all so there was less of an attachment. As soon as I heard “it’s a girl!” and looked at their faces, I couldn’t bring myself to look where they were and tearfully told them to go see their daughter, who was now on the warming table being wiped down, much to her distaste. I focused on a small broken hanging tile on the ceiling directly above where I was laying on my back, crying partially from the giant hormone flux, and partially because I knew my job was finished.

They took her out, with parents in tow and I was left alone for awhile. I slept, exhausted. When I woke up it was midday on the 7th and I was alone, totally completely alone and empty. I had never felt anything like it before. I knew in my heart I made the  best decision for that little girl, but it didn’t make me feel any less alone. My body hurt and was tired and my brain was on overload. It took several long hours of contemplation but I finally called the nurse to bring her in. I would never have forgiven myself had I let the first day of her life pass and not told her how much I loved her.

I was still alone in the room and they wheeled in the tiniest little thing in a plastic bassinet, wrapped in a traditional baby hospital blanket with a little beanie on that had to be folded over several times to get close to fitting. The nurse knew our situation and asked me again if I was sure I wanted to do this. Tears streaming and voice cracking I answered yes, because if I didn’t I knew I would regret it. She handed me one of the most beautiful, tiny babies I had ever seen. I placed her facing me against my bent legs so I could look at her straight on. She had the deepest, darkest blue eyes, every feature was perfect. I unwrapped her, counting her fingers and toes. She opened her eyes and looked at me and I lost it. I knew in my heart this child was meant for her parents, but my heart was tearing and ripping in ways I didn’t know it could. Through sobs I apologized for being unable to care for her the way she deserved, asking for her forgiveness one day. I told her how much of a part of me she was and will always be. I told her how I picked her family for her, and they picked me and her. I told her how much I loved her and promised there wouldn’t be a day that went by that she wasn’t going to be in my thoughts. We sat and stared at each other for hours.

The next day we were released to go home. I was given some time in the morning alone with her to say goodbye, but nothing prepared me for getting on the elevator without her. I went home, empty and alone. I cried myself to sleep for several days after that, calling to check on her every once in awhile. I was trying to leave her family alone to adjust. The questions from people that knew I was pregnant, but didn’t know the situation were the hardest. I didn’t want to tell anyone that she was dead, but wasn’t sure how to tell people why I made the choice I did. Those that weren’t really close I got accustomed to telling them that she was with her dad. I do not regret my decision.

The pain has faded over the years. Not a day goes by that I don’t think or dream about her. She has a relationship with not only me, but also her 4 other half-siblings. We have stayed in close contact and I know I made the right decision for her. I wonder sometimes how things are going to be in the future, and if she’ll hate me. In 5 days, she’ll be 10. I know our relationship will continue to grow and get stronger. So, D.R., I love you, more today then yesterday, not as much as I will tomorrow, and there is not a moment that goes by that I don’t think about you. Happy Birthday my baby.

Randomness

It’s so hard sometimes to find something I think is worthwhile to write about. Or positive enough that I think others will actually want to read. I’ve always hated when I have those friends that the only thing they ever do is call to complain about how crappy their lives are. Don’t get me wrong, I believe there’s a partial purpose of a friend in that we are there for each other to listen and help through issues we all face. However, if the only reason you ever call me is to either ask for a “favor” or to complain about how horrible you think your life is, we probably won’t talk much after awhile. I also tend to not do well with people that just complain and never do anything to fix it. The “poor me” because this is the hand I was dealt attitude won’t get you very far with me at all. Everyone has faced tough issues, regardless of if they seem as bad as your issues or not, they probably felt just as bad to the person affected. So, I believe my issues are important to me, and probably just me and try not to spread them around for everyone else to get annoyed with too. 🙂

On the upside.. I am getting acquainted with the job, and making good impressions to everyone I’ve come in contact with. It’s been extremely stressful some days trying to retain all the information thrown at me. Hopefully this job will take me the places I want to go and open the opportunities I’ve been looking for.. it’d be nice to finally have a real “grown-up” job. I’d like to be able to provide for my family the way my parents did for us.

It’s been 50 weeks on the “I Love You Project”. Two more weeks will make a year, and it’s gone by so quickly. I had an old friend (old for friend years, not old age years — just in case she’s reading this) tell me that she didn’t think there was anyway  I could do this and not be changed, then asked how it’s changed me. I did alot of self-reflecting and realized just how much  it had changed me. I am so much more aware now of everything going on around me, and the relationships I create every day. Every single person I come in contact with is an opportunity to change some one’s day. I’ve been told it’s spread and others are using the “I love you” messages to heal relationships and secure tighter bonds with family and friends. I don’t know if I’ll continue doing it every day, or if I’ll try to move on to something else. I do know this whole thing has made me feel as though there’s a bigger purpose to what I should be doing and made my life feel less remedial. I also feel as though I’m moving in the direction I’ve wanted my life to go since high school.

We are 14 days into the new year. 14 days to make a bigger change than last year… so far, nothing spectacular. My life has managed to move drastically in the wrong direction, but I’m a survivor, and things will be ok. I avoid writing during the down times because I assume you and everyone else have enough of their own junk going on to want to read about how bad someone else’s is. You ever feel like you’re struggling to gain control of your own life, and for some reason it is just slightly out of reach, dangling and teasing you like a banana on a wire at the end of the stick. I know things will work out, they always do. Now is the time for faith, trust (even though I’m really struggling with that one right now), and hope. It was alot of fun doing the “Christmas service worker” thing, I’m trying to find something to do now. I don’t want to be one of those people that only gives on the holidays. There are people that need love and attention every day.. all year round. And for some reason, focusing on other people’s lives makes mine less important and not as rough anymore.

The holidays are over for the most part. All that’s left is the occasional bow or shred of wrapping paper forgotten in the corner, and the constant “how was your holiday?”. Every person I run into, seems to want to ask that question. Does anyone really want to know the answer unless it’s full of rainbows and butterflies? Probably not. My holiday was awesome, thanks to a few very amazing people, Santa Clause visited the kids and was very generous to them. My job, however, is to put the focus on you. How was your holiday? And I do care about the answer.. if you happen to say “not so hot this year” or hesitate with your reply, I’ll probably follow up with a “what can I do to make it better?”. I’m tired of the conditioning that we (all mankind) have gotten into where if we chose to be polite (because that courtesy is quickly disappearing as well) it’s rarely if ever genuine. It’s sad. I challenge you to ask someone how their day was once a day for a week and actually care about their answer, it might change you. Sorry for the rant.

New Years Day came and is almost over, and pretty uneventful. I actually fell asleep last night at 11:50.. getting old is kinda boring sometimes. It did, however, get me thinking about New Years resolutions. These are mine, feel free to steal, modify or offer suggestions.

1. Continue with the I Love You project by doing one unexpected kind act every day through 2011 and creating a minimum of 3 Love Books throughout the year (Will explain Love Books later)
2. I will laugh everyday at myself, and find something to laugh at once a week so hard my stomach hurts
3. I will eat less chocolate.. or take more magnesium.. whichever makes more sense at the moment
4. I will tell my husband every day why I’m glad I married him and make sure he knows everything he does for me is appreciated
5. I will make more individual time for each of my kids, especially the one that wants a boyfriend…
6. I will talk to at least one stranger everyday and learn at least their name and something unique about each of them
7. I will cook at least 7 times
8. I will try to visit family in OK, and friends in AZ, CA and TZ
9. I will offer available free time to the people that matter the most, instead of work

So, that’s the start, some of them are pretty generic.. but they’ll work for now. I’m sure I’ll be changing and updating. So, the Love Book is a book made up of notes, letters, and lines from friends, family or co-workers telling the receiver why they are important to them or things they do well. They can be 5 pages or 50. The goal is to give the receiver something to look at when they’re feeling badly or less than amazing. My way of motivating when I can’t be there to tell them how awesome they are. Side note.. I got all the service letters out, as of the 30th. The last one seemed to take forever. Hopefully when I get pulled over next time it will be by someone that got a letter from me.

I now have an entirely new perception and appreciation for the “older” generation in the current (I hate to use these words, as they are overused, but I couldn’t come up with a better phrase or word) economy. To lose your job after you’ve been there for decades, or lose your profession because it’s no longer “needed” on the budget. There is no greater reminder to age (other than your body falling apart) than trying to learn a new trade, or applying for a job only to be passed up for a kid the same age as your child or even grandchild. During the interviews you are asked very remedial questions, most of which actual catch you off guard because they are so brainless and pointless like “what’s your favorite color”. As if that question will be able to determine if you are capable of running a copy machine or typing a memo. You also have an amazing resume, one that most employers don’t even get past the first page because they don’t understand why you would be applying for a pizza delivery driver job when you got your PHD at UNC. So while you’re sitting there, trying not to feel stupid because the color question threw you off, they throw another one at you “why do you want this job when you obviously are completely overqualified”. How do you answer this one without sounding totally desperate? Because every one of their classmates from high school 3 years ago have just graduated and are willing to take the positions you’re qualified for for a quarter of the salary they think you require. You’re overqualified and it feels like at times you’re speaking a different language, but it’s a rough time for everyone… you’re considering dumbing  down your resume just to get a foot in the door. If you’re lucky enough to get hired, or brave enough to apply to positions outside your expertise, then you get the unique honor of being taught how to do your job by someone decades younger, usually with the style you tried to run away from back in the 60’s and 70’s. Then you start wondering if you sold out. It was hard enough on your self-esteem to look for jobs and be denied by kids, but now you’re starting to doubt yourself and your worth and abilities. You lose sight of the enormous talent that you are, and begin to wonder if you made a huge mistake, if you “sold out”. It’s a vicious cycle, and those with jobs are told they should be incredibly grateful to have one (or more) even if it sucks (most of them do). It’s hard sometimes to get up and be thankful that I get to go be bossed around by people many years younger with alot less experience and making alot more money than me. I do believe though that this job will lead to better things, and the E-word won’t be like this forever. And as tough as it is to feel grateful some days when I wake up and try to shove more information in my brain than I feel capable, trying hard not to feel  like a total idiot, I know there’s alot of people out there that aren’t lucky enough to have any income right now. So for now, I’m going to chose to learn something new from every person responsible for my development in the company and in life, and maybe along the way I’ll teach them something too. Things will look up, and will get better. Someday you will be recognized for your amazing talents and experience. I’m not sure why I wrote this one today, but if for nothing else, to let others in the same situation know that there is a light, no matter how far it may seem, at the end of the tunnel. You alone can hang on to the knowledge that you are worth more, and will have the opportunity to be recognized for it someday. In the meantime, smile because you’ve lived the experiences and made the hard decisions that others haven’t.. and that alone gives you an edge above the rest. Sleep well, I’m thinking of you.

So I’ve been working now for a little over 3 weeks. I love it. The actual job part kind of sucks.. getting up early, learning so much information I’ve had to find a way to dump my brain when I get home just so I can relax enough to fall asleep, being showed up by a bunch of kids ten years younger than me (they LOVE it)… But the part about where I get to do something that I’m good at, and being recognized for being good at it, is amazing. I forgot what it was like to be doing something that makes me feel like I’m good at anything. The husband and family tell me all the time what they think I’m good at.. and while that’s ok, I unfortunately have the mentality that they’re supposed to say that because they love me… I think I’ve watched too many beginning episodes of American Idol, where the poor kid that someone (usually a mom, or family member) has been telling them their entire life how amazing their talents are.. gets up and sings their little hearts out, only for them to completely fail on national television. However, when a stranger tells you you’re awesome, you (and I) tend to believe it. Not just believe it, but relish in it.. I’ve felt like I’m floating on clouds all day.

I’ve decided to incorporate this simple act of encouraging into the I Love You Project. I’ve been verbal with alot of people.. encouraging, showing interest, or just having simple conversations or listening. This holiday season, many families are struggling, some just like previous years, some for the first time. I know first-hand what it’s like to decide to skip this months electric bill to be able to wrap a package to put it under the tree for the kids to open. I’ve had years where people have given my family everything a commercial Christmas is supposed to be. Some of those years were the ones I needed hope the most. I’ve given commercial Christmas to families when we’ve been able to. I’m saying “commercial Christmas”, because to say that I was “given Christmas” seems to mask what Christmas is supposed to mean and stand for. This is supposed to be a thankful season (interesting to me, because aren’t we supposed to be thankful year round), the “vision” of Christmas has gotten so warped, it’s hard to stay on the focused path anymore. This year, we find ourselves not as bad as others, but still trying to catch up from the months of being unemployed. Every year, I like to do something impactful (above and beyond the daily things year-round), and have had to get creative this year with the lack of funds. So, in my brainstorming I’ve decided to pre-write thank-you notes to service workers (policemen, firemen, servers, bartenders, maids, trashmen… you get the point) In the note I’m outlining why what they do is so important to the community they live in, or how their choice to be in a service industry is admirable, and how it impacts me specifically. My goal in the next 3 weeks is to hand out at least 150 of them. I haven’t decided what I want the kids to do this year to remind them that Christmas isn’t really about who gets the largest amount of useless crap every year. This year instead of being thankful for what I have from November to December, I’m going to be thankful every day for everything, even the job that makes my head hurt!

I’ve spent much of my life comparing myself to everyone around me. Sometimes this pushes me to do better, sometimes it discourages because I disappoint myself. All of the time it’s an unconscious choice that becomes aware to me the more damaging it becomes. It also tends to hide or distort the views I have of myself; which I believe every woman has some issues with at some point. I’ll choose to believe a distorted lie sometimes because it’s easier than believing something good about myself. Not sure why I do this, but it’s something I’ve been knowingly struggling with for a long time.

I grew up as the only girl in a family with 4 kids. Feeling the need often to “keep up” I would do things like play hockey, or just “be tougher”. I’m still unclear if I was doing this for the approval of my brothers or to prove something to myself. Then the older I got, it translated into less physical things and began to change to more to be academically focused. In my eyes (and a lot of other people’s) I have 3 amazing brothers, all successful in their own way. The oldest went to one of the top schools in the state, married a rocket scientist and is the second smartest person I know, only below my dad. I love to tell people how awesome he is, successful, and from my point of view has a pretty good handle on life in general. I’m sure he might say different, but in my eyes, he’s managed to build a very independent and successful life. The next brother followed his dreams. Flew off to an art school upon graduating high school, then off to “put in his time” at a reputable recording studio in California. He is now married to a woman that views the world through her own eyes, as does he.. in a time that no one does anymore. He is also a very successful drummer of a band that tours 6 months out of the year, and are commonplace on many different television series. Then there’s the “baby”. He has, since very early on, maybe 13, exhibited an understanding to life, and a compassion most people search and fight years to obtain. Having a philosophical discussion with him will blow your mind. He has ideas and plans and is fully his own person in a way I can honestly say I’ve never seen in anyone before. So this is what I — 2 failed marriages, single mom of 4 at 26, have compared myself to, for most of my life.

Thing is, that is who they are. I’ve never thought I’m anyone that has done anything, other than have the amazing ability to have an extraordinary amount of kids in a relatively short amount of time, that would make anyone envious, or even proud of me. One of my brother’s said something to me a few months back that gave me an entirely different perspective on my life. I am blessed in my own way, and have my own abilities that my brother’s don’t. And different as they may be, they are completely mine.

Growing up, which has only begun to happen in the last few years, has allowed me to truly be proud of them and the adults they’ve become. In that, I have recently began to realize how much that life isn’t a contest. Their path have been their choices, my path.. all mine. So, while I still struggle with feeling of inadequacy and the urge to compare myself to one of them, I am getting better and appreciate everything they and other people have done for me.

I was thinking about writing this on Thanksgiving.. but I didn’t want to write it just because it was the day we’re supposed to be thankful. I have alot to be grateful for, including my 3 amazing brothers that are all incredibly talented and inspiring, my 4 wonderful kids who will never let me grow old or make it though one day without laughing so hard there is danger of pee-pants, both my parents whose relationship and guidance is something I hope to be able to pass to my children someday, and my husband… who no matter how many times I ask him how he deals with me and the kids, he always has a different answer that makes me feel special.