Posts Tagged With: choices

Billy Wilder said

Billy Wilder said,

“Trust your own instinct. Your mistakes might as well be your own instead of someone else’s.”

Dude knew what was up. I mean, have you seen his movies?
Billy Wilder

This speaks straight the core of me.
My instincts reside in my gut. I trust my gut above all else.
That brain of mine might be bright, but the propensity to obsess negates my instincts. And my heart, while it loves with an endless ferocity, is so busy feeling every last thing that it’s rather useless when it comes to instincts.
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“Your mistakes might as well be your own.”
Were ever truer words spoken? I’m so serious!
Every single time I’ve voiced my instincts and they were not heeded, something’s blown up in somebody’s face. That includes me too, y’all.
BUT(!!) sometimes I have trusted my gut and still had things blow up in my face. That’s OK too.
When provoked, I tend to be reactive. I’ll make a snap decision and then stand on my principles until the cows come home…then stand on the cows, you know?
I won’t back down. That’s my stubborn streak. Even if I’d like to “take back” something I said or did, I won’t. Because I stubbornly stick to my guns, however much I’m cutting off my nose to spite my face. (Yeah, yeah, mixed metaphors, what are you going to do?)
So, if I’ve made a mistake, I’ll admit it…but only to myself. The important part of mistake making is having the strength to own it. I can’t change anything I’ve said or done…sometimes they’re mistakes, other times, not so much…whatever the outcome, I’m content in knowing I made the choices.

We’re all going to make mistakes.
The important part is to remember this: If you’re not trusting your instincts, you’re not making your own decisions, which means you’re not making your own mistakes.
Trust your instincts enough to make your own mistakes. I promise you it’s worth it.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

What “should” it be?

I’m going to have to swear off social media for a few days.
I keep seeing my friends with children the same age as Thing 2, children the same age as Thing 2 I’m “friends” with posting about graduation and it’s breaking my heart.
I’m excited and proud for my friends who share their pride and joy about this important milestone. I’m excited for these kids who count down the moments until they’re “free”. (Just stay in high school a bit longer, y’all, the real world can sometimes suck balls.)

I should be doing the same kind of sharing. I should be expressing my pride and joy that Thing 2 is graduating from high school. She should be sharing this roller coaster ride that her peers are on.
Should.
Should is a real bitch of a word. It’s mean and hateful.

I trusted Thing 2 enough to make the choice to get her high school equivalent. She trusted that choice. She appears to have no regrets. I trust that, too.

Graduation isn’t for the graduate.
Graduation is for the parents.

Graduation is for this particular Mommy.

The day Thing 1 graduated was of profound importance to me. I have never been more moved in my adult life as I was that day. To watch my baby take that ceremonial walk was more powerful than I can put into words.
Since that day, I’ve waited to experience similar feelings for Thing 2. My disappointment is bigger than I realized.
I’m not disappointed in her.
I’m disappointed to miss out on that moment with and for her, those feelings about her.

I believe witnessing your child’s graduation is a rite of passage for a parent in way a child can never understand the importance of. A sense of closure as well as a new beginning.
I’m wondering how I’ll experience that with Thing 2. What will that look like? Because it won’t look like a blue cap and gown at Colonial Life Arena in a few days time.

Perhaps it will surprise me when I least expect it.
But that frightens me! If it happens when I least expect it, how will I know the weight and magnitude? How will I know it if I’m not expecting it?
What does a rite of passage look like if it’s unexpected?

I can’t answer these questions.
I can only love my girl like I always have. I’m going to keep trusting her choices. I’m going to trust that we’ll experience our own particular rite of passage and it will fill me with equal amounts of awe and pride and never-ending unconditional love.

I celebrate with my friends in theory…somewhere in my deep in heart. I just can’t do it with photos and memories and hashtags and the like. It’s too painful.
Is that selfish? Or petty? Or simple self-preservation?
Dunno. Don’t care.
Just know I can’t look at other people’s babies in caps and gowns right now.

Thing 2 sometimes reads my words…so these are specifically for her:
You’re savvy enough to know this isn’t about you so I hope it isn’t hurtful for you to read. Your choices are yours to make. I support your right to make choices. I have faith in your ability to make mostly good ones. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, and I love you more than the moon and the stars.

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

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