Growing up

I am not the same person today that I was 26 years ago.  I’m about a quarter of an inch taller, I weigh more, my hair isn’t as healthy, my knees aren’t as knobby, my smile isn’t as broad, my posture isn’t as straight and my feet are bigger. Much bigger.

My appearance isn’t the only thing that has changed.  So many things have changed since I was a teenager.  So many things have changed since last year! At 16 years old if you had asked me where I thought I would be in 26 years…this is not the life I thought I would have.

Now, I’m not complaining, much. I mean, of course if I had it to do all over again I definitely would’ve done a lot of things differently. Like my teeth. I hate my teeth. I’ve always hated my teeth. All the money I spent on hair dye, acrylic nails and make up would’ve gone to a dental surgeon somewhere in this region. That’s one change I can guarantee would’ve happened.  I also would’ve taken better care of my hair and skin. I mean, I’m kind of stuck with it, right? And I think I would’ve probably invested in better shoes. I’ve been known to catch the best deal when I am forced to buy a new pair of shoes, due in large part to my ability to afford them.  I would so splurge if I could do it again. Shoes are mega important, not just to pull together the daily wardrobe but my back is a major jerk…and I know it has a lot to do with the shoes I’ve worn over the years.

Aside from things…Something my grandma always told me was to ‘pick my battles’. OH, I picked them alright. I picked each and every one and fought my damndest. But what it took me decades to learn is that you don’t always have to battle.  From 16 until I was well into my late 20’s I was at my most emotionally vulnerable stage.  I had no idea where my life was going or even that I had much control over that outcome. I was so caught up in my feelings about what I was going through, how hard and unfair it was, how angry I was and how entitled I was to feel that way…that I let those feelings control me.  I let those feelings and those emotions dictate my every move.  I felt like I had a lot of reasons to feel sorry for myself, for others to feel sorry for me, for others to understand if I failed.  I wanted so badly for things to be different in my life but it was so easy to focus on all the negativity.  I mean, there was a lot of it. In the last 26 years I’ve spent a lot of time caring what other people thought of me.  I guess you could say I’m judgmental in a way because I do pay attention to people, their habits, the way they look, their financial decisions, their parenting skills, and their demeanor, the way they look at me and speak to me, and how they react to things I do and say.  But I don’t judge them in a mean, heartless way or think that I am in any way better than them. I do have thoughts about how different I am than a lot of other people, but that’s not putting myself on a pedestal. That’s more of a ‘wish I could be more like them’ sort of mentality.  I don’t judge, I observe.

I could get off on a serious tangent here, talking about ‘people’. I used to people-watch a lot.  For years, starting during my first pregnancy, I would go to the mall just to sit in the food court and watch people for hours on end. We are pretty amazing creatures. And we’re all so different. I would watch mothers with their children a lot back then because I was secretly terrified that I was going to do it wrong.  There were mothers of every age, ethnicity, and financial background walking around that mall.  Every day that I would sit there just watching. I’d see more and more differences.  From the way they dressed their kids to their ‘rules’ about holding hands, to the different ways they spoke to their children. I wondered so much.  A lot of my wonder was really curiosity about how different I was from them, not how different they were from each other. It was as if they were all normal, even with all their differences.  And I questioned whether I was as ‘normal’ as they were.  I tried not to be rude but I did pay way too much attention to conversations and mannerisms.  I hope no one thought I was a creeper! I was just curious. As time went by I noticed that in my people-watching days I had gone from being curious about other people to wondering if they were curious about me. That turned into worrying what people actually thought of me. And up until about 5 or so years ago…it was more of a fear that others would think I was terrible at ….well….at life. Not just as a mother, but as a human being. I went from being entertained and enlightened watching strangers to being embarrassed and worried that I didn’t fit the norm in the course of my ‘growing up’ years.   How in the world did I let that happen? I guess that’s part of growing up?

I really wish I had spent less time worrying about what other people were doing or thinking and more time making memories and being grateful for what I had. That time went so fast.  I created so much of the drama in my life by worrying about what other people thought and putting up walls. There were people in my life who I knew were going to judge me because I was 18 and a mother. There were people that would actually treat me like an idiot and people that would try to help if I looked like I needed it. I always looked like I needed it, trust me! But I would occasionally get offended and think or even occasionally say things to the effect of, “I got this”, with a sarcastic look on my face.  I often had an ‘I don’t need you’ attitude back then. I had no life experience. I had no clue what I was doing. I just knew I didn’t have a choice and I was on that path in life because of my own choices. So I guess my sarcasm was really embarrassment. I have always tried to show respect to people, let them know that I care about them, listen to them, try to help them if I thought I could, understand that they are not me and still try to be there for them even if they were making different choices than what I would have. But one thing is for sure. If I ever said I didn’t care what other people said or thought of me, I lied. For 20+ years I was literally obsessed with what everyone thought of me. I was absolutely mortified at the idea that anyone would think I failed…at anything.

I’ve always been a talker, mostly when I’m nervous or excited, but always a talker.  I thought I could talk my way out of virtually anything.  And I definitely had an answer for everything. I learned how wrong I was about that on several occasions.  I was never afraid to tell someone how I felt and boy did that feel good a few times!  I was young but I wasn’t dumb. I was a young mother but I wasn’t a bad mother. And no matter how alone I felt like I was…I knew I had plenty of people I could turn to if I needed to.  My only problem from age 16 until about 24 is that I didn’t know how to ask for help. I thought I needed to prove that I was better than where I came from. I thought I needed to struggle alone to appreciate certain things.  And although I may have talked a lot about what I knew I needed to do….I really didn’t know what I was doing.

There are so many things in life I’ve taken for granted. There are so many opportunities I’ve missed because I was stubborn, bull-headed and naïve. But never in a million years at the age of 16 could I have imagined where I would be at age 42. No one can.  All you can do is hope that you are making the right decisions to get you to your goal. My goal….was to be happy. But I also wanted a million other things.  I wanted peace in my family. I wanted my mother back. I wanted to wake up and know where I was going and how I was going to get there. I wanted freedom from my debilitating emotions. I wanted a king size bed with a pillow top mattress that was adjustable and equipped with heat. I wanted to be able to go to bed at night with a smile on my face, wake up every morning with no worries, enough money to get by and still have fun, a family who spoke often, spent time together and trusted each other, a reliable car and a good credit score. I wanted friends. I wanted to never feel alone. I wanted my friends and family to be proud of me. And here I am, 26 years later, still wanting for most of those things.

I am not the same person today that I was 26 years ago. I am not the same person today that I was 10 years ago. I will not be the same person tomorrow that I am today. I still love to people-watch but now, when I’m curious as to what people think of me I’m really just hoping someone will strike up a conversation.  I don’t want to assume, I want to know. So talk to me. I still want peace in my family…ALL of my family.  But some bridges are apparently harder to burn than others. So I won’t take offense. I won’t cry (much). I will just cherish every second of this life I have left to share with you, even if it is through Facebook, because that’s better than not having you at all. I would give anything to be able to Facebook with my mom and dad. I know that you are all busy living, paying bills, raising kids and getting by.  We all are. But let’s talk more.  This is a social media era we live in so I’m not offended if you send me a Facebook message instead of calling me. But burn your bridges. Life is too short and too precious to hold grudges against the people you should be laughing with and leaning on. Stop taking everything so offensively and stop thinking that everyone is out to hurt you. We all have issues. We all have dreams. I don’t see a good enough reason for any of us to bicker. We can’t very well judge someone else if we aren’t perfect, ourselves, right? And I don’t see any reason why, when something bothers us or offends us that we can’t be grown ups and have a conversation about it instead of putting up a wall and avoiding each other. That has never solved anything. And what are we teaching our children? To give up on each other? To walk away when times are tough? To stand behind our walls and cast stones on people for doing things that we, ourselves are guilty of doing? No wonder our kids would rather be sitting behind a screen than playing tag and building forts out of tree limbs and old boxes. Some of you are religious….some of you are not. Some of you are better educated than others. Some of you have dealt with many more hardships than others. Some of you have worked hard while others have been very lucky.  Everyone is different. But we all exist. We are all here and fully capable of being better people.  I see you. I see every one of you and I love you all.  I don’t care how ‘different’ we might be.  All I care about is that you are mine. You are my husband, my child, my step-child, my sister, my brother, my aunt, my uncle, my cousin, my grandmother, my grandfather, my grandchild, my in-law, my neighbor, my friend. You are mine. Good, bad or indifferent….I’m yours too.  I’m so tired of the negativity and the worry and excuses and the blame. If there is anyone that you should not be afraid to be yourself around it’s your friends and family.  So just stop, grow up, let go….and remember. Say you’re sorry. Tell people how you feel. Move on. Make more memories. You don’t want to get 26 years down the road with more regrets than you have today.

I wish I knew how to set this blog to music. I’m crying….like I always do….but I’m so full of love for you all today that I don’t know what else to do.

With much love and respect,

Samantha