Birthdays have a crazy way of making you think WAY too much. You think about where you've been, and what you've accomplished, and you think about where you are going and what you've yet to do.
|A birthday post wouldn't be complete|
without Ryan Gosling... le sigh...
You think about the million things you've done wrong, and the few things you've actually done right.
Birthdays are just crazy like that.
I talked to my Mom yesterday, who called to give me my birthday present early, and just check up on me since I've fallen off the face of the earth this year (this is my first blog post of 2015, and it's January 20th- homeschooling and my store are kicking my ass this year so far, but in good ways). She informed me that when she was 34, my sister was only 1 year old.
Nope. Not me. I see people my age with little kids, or pregnant, and I'm personally extremely happy that I pulled off the bandaid in my early 20s. Now, with my kids at 12 and 10, I can have decently mature conversations with them... if you call debating whether it'd be worse to have your nose above your butt or toes for fingers "mature conversation." (I'd totally go with toes for fingers, by the way.) I couldn't imagine changing diapers, or potty training, or not having any idea why my kid was screaming their head off because they didn't actually speak words I could understand, at my age. I applaud people who are my age, or older, with small kids, because it's something I just wouldn't want to do at this stage of my life. I applaud you, but I'll totally have you in the back of my mind while I'm sleeping in on the weekends, or watching a creepy PG-13 movie with my kiddos instead of "Frozen" for the umpteenth zillion time.
So, my birthday has made me think about what life would be like if I did have smaller kids. And y'all think I'm crazy now...
I've thought about where I've been, and how that road has led me to my life today.
Today, at 34, I've survived a three-year separation from my husband and an almost-divorce, moved about a dozen times
in my adulthood- to a different country and across this country three times, hit rock bottom, put myself back together again, found my faith in myself, my family, and spiritually, and have finally been able to show the world who I truly am on the inside.
Today, at 34, I wear the hats of several people, including Homeschooling Mom, Small Business Owner, Military Wife, Artist, Avalonian Sister, Insomniac, Meditating-Crunchy-Tree-Hugging Hippy, Homemaker, Dog Spoiler, Coffee Lover, Optimist, Writer, Witch, Bitch, Amazon Addict and Netflix Binge TV Watcher, just to name a few. Most of all, I think I'm finally wearing the hat of Me, which took decades to figure out and proudly display.
Today, at 34, I'm not a size 2, or 6, or even a 9 right now, and I'm okay with that. I have bags under my eyes and crows feet starting to form. If I don't religiously dye my hair bright ass red, I look like I'm constantly celebrating Christmas, complete with silver tinsel at my roots. I still have stretch marks that came from my pregnancies a decade ago, and my cellulite has taken out a 40 year mortgage on my ass and thighs- it's not moving anytime soon. And while I understand how finger-in-your-mouth-barfy-motion this is of me to say it, I'm completely happy with all of this, because it's Me.
Today, at 34, I think back to all of the mistakes I've made, and realize I wouldn't be where I am today had I not made them. Then, I decide it's best to concentrate on my accomplishments, instead. My two biggest accomplishments, of course, are The Girl and The Ginger. They are my world, and starting homeschooling with them a few weeks ago has been amazing. Oh, it's been crazy, chaotic, stressful, insane and has put me locked in the closet a few times, but amazing. We're working on a routine, working out the bugs, and figuring things out as we go, which I feel is a great life lesson in itself.
After my kids, my next biggest accomplishment is a theme you've seen throughout this post so far- the accomplishment of me finally figuring out who I am. It's something I've struggled with since I was a teenager- a highly competitive, over-achieving, ostracized by my peers because I didn't want to drink and party with them, spiritually lost, teenager. I graduated 2nd in my class and then gave a huge finger to societal norms by getting married a month after graduation (no, I wasn't pregnant) instead of going to college, getting my degree... blah, blah, blah, as the world expected me to. I spent the following decade purposefully doing the opposite of what was expected of me, in attempt to live up to the Rebel status I had labeled myself in my head. My world came crashing down as a product of my own doing, and made me realize that it was time to figure out who I was, and bring harmony to myself and my family, before I completely self-destructed. I've spent the better part of the last 4 or 5 years redefining myself, my wants and wishes, my goals, and letting the past go so I could make a brighter future for myself. I finally figured out Me, and while it's always going to be a work-in-progress, I've figured out a formula that really helps make it a little easier- forgiveness, acceptance, meditation, optimism and living in the moment.
Today, at 34, I'm happy. Really happy. I'm living my life, doing what's best for my family and myself, and have finally found the compromise between the rebellious teen inside of me and the responsible old soul of mine. Usually, that compromise presents itself through my writing, and my blog. I'm going to need to keep up with it more to keep the peace, huh? We wouldn't want a full-on war in my mind and body... again...
Today, at 34, I will smile a little brighter, because I know that I am the best version of me that I can be, cellulite and all. A very Happy Birthday to me!!
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