I have been told that I have a gift for writing. I have never really embraced this gift probably because I have always had it and never realized that others might not possess the same ability to feel something in their heart and be able to write it out into words. I have always wished to be able to speak the way I write. I wish that I could speak and bring people to tears with how I express my love for them...alas, that doesn't happen. I think being able to write might be more fun. Writing something down lasts a lot longer! I do not, however, posses a grammatical ability. I write how I think...and like most people, I don't think in terms of "grammar". Frankly, grammar annoys me!
I have been on a "journey to healing" for about 5 years now. It has been the longest, most frustratingly painful...and most beautiful thing I have ever done. A cliche, I know, but I have always found that there has to be some truth in cliches for them to become cliches, no? I can remember reading and listening to other women as the were sorting through the trash heaps of their own past and finding how similar their experiences were to mine. In fact, that "familiarity" in itself was healing. If the woman sitting across from me was saying that her mother spitting at her was abusive...then when my mother did that to me...it had to be abusive to. In fact I had never put the term "abuse" to my childhood until I had something to compare it to. I think that is why I write this blog. I enjoy writing and I enjoy helping other people sort out their "issues" when they hear or see me write out my thoughts. I know how freeing that can be! I begin this blog with the hope of guiding someone into a clearer understanding of their jumbled thoughts.
I also do this for a very special person. I have two children, a little boy (Eli) and a more recent addition, a daughter (Madeline). I certainly love my children equally, there is no doubt. In my own life and my continued journey, I have found that raising my daughter forces me to face my own losses and my own pains in the face. It was different with my son. He was always directed to the dirt and the dinosaurs, as most little boys are. My daughter is so beautifully different. She is still under a year...but she is so sweet and...ah, just so different. I named this blog after her...in a way. In July, we had our first family pictures taken since Maddie was born. I had happened upon a little pink tutu. I remember seeing it and feeling as if a wave had just hit me in the face. I had a rush of pain and joy and excitement all at the same time. I wake up everyday and have to mentally prepare myself to be a good mother. To do things differently than they were done to me. I always look for opportunities that I can do for or give my children that I was not given...things that make up a carefree childhood. Sometimes I wonder if a little girls happiness isn't wrapped up in a tutu! Isn't a frilly pink tutu the expression of carefree, happy, princess, daddy's girl, beauty, and contentment? Well, maybe a tutu with some mud and grass stains, lol! I held that tutu to my face and I stared at it for a little while. I tried to imagine a (much) younger me twirling around in it...and I could not hold the image in my mind. No one ever put me in a tutu...no one EVER let me live inside the "expressions" of a tutu!! Ashley (me) inside a tutu doesn't make sense and feels absurd.
My Madeline in a tutu makes all the sense in the world. My baby girl will be able to rest in my arms and I hope she "wears" her tutu until the day she rushes into the arms of her Father in Heaven! It is my deepest prayer and wish to give both my children the foundation to be loving, whole human beings. That foundation is not built on toys or material things...it is built by hugs and kisses and "I love you's"...and even in "No's". I fail so much...more than I ever want to admit. In all those failures I never choose not to face the past...not to face the pain. I face those things for my children. I face those things in the desperate hope that someday I will feel like a whole person. I am desperate to react the right way first instead of chastising myself for always over reacting! Love leads me on though...I love my children. I love my husband. I often feel like he has been jipped though. I use to think I stole him before the better woman came along. He puts up with a lot but never lets me know as much!
I have been on a "journey to healing" for about 5 years now. It has been the longest, most frustratingly painful...and most beautiful thing I have ever done. A cliche, I know, but I have always found that there has to be some truth in cliches for them to become cliches, no? I can remember reading and listening to other women as the were sorting through the trash heaps of their own past and finding how similar their experiences were to mine. In fact, that "familiarity" in itself was healing. If the woman sitting across from me was saying that her mother spitting at her was abusive...then when my mother did that to me...it had to be abusive to. In fact I had never put the term "abuse" to my childhood until I had something to compare it to. I think that is why I write this blog. I enjoy writing and I enjoy helping other people sort out their "issues" when they hear or see me write out my thoughts. I know how freeing that can be! I begin this blog with the hope of guiding someone into a clearer understanding of their jumbled thoughts.
I also do this for a very special person. I have two children, a little boy (Eli) and a more recent addition, a daughter (Madeline). I certainly love my children equally, there is no doubt. In my own life and my continued journey, I have found that raising my daughter forces me to face my own losses and my own pains in the face. It was different with my son. He was always directed to the dirt and the dinosaurs, as most little boys are. My daughter is so beautifully different. She is still under a year...but she is so sweet and...ah, just so different. I named this blog after her...in a way. In July, we had our first family pictures taken since Maddie was born. I had happened upon a little pink tutu. I remember seeing it and feeling as if a wave had just hit me in the face. I had a rush of pain and joy and excitement all at the same time. I wake up everyday and have to mentally prepare myself to be a good mother. To do things differently than they were done to me. I always look for opportunities that I can do for or give my children that I was not given...things that make up a carefree childhood. Sometimes I wonder if a little girls happiness isn't wrapped up in a tutu! Isn't a frilly pink tutu the expression of carefree, happy, princess, daddy's girl, beauty, and contentment? Well, maybe a tutu with some mud and grass stains, lol! I held that tutu to my face and I stared at it for a little while. I tried to imagine a (much) younger me twirling around in it...and I could not hold the image in my mind. No one ever put me in a tutu...no one EVER let me live inside the "expressions" of a tutu!! Ashley (me) inside a tutu doesn't make sense and feels absurd.
My Madeline in a tutu makes all the sense in the world. My baby girl will be able to rest in my arms and I hope she "wears" her tutu until the day she rushes into the arms of her Father in Heaven! It is my deepest prayer and wish to give both my children the foundation to be loving, whole human beings. That foundation is not built on toys or material things...it is built by hugs and kisses and "I love you's"...and even in "No's". I fail so much...more than I ever want to admit. In all those failures I never choose not to face the past...not to face the pain. I face those things for my children. I face those things in the desperate hope that someday I will feel like a whole person. I am desperate to react the right way first instead of chastising myself for always over reacting! Love leads me on though...I love my children. I love my husband. I often feel like he has been jipped though. I use to think I stole him before the better woman came along. He puts up with a lot but never lets me know as much!
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