Let me start off my blog by advising you- do not feel sorry for me. This is not a page promoting misery and company. Line after line of woe-is-me text will not be found here. In fact, I will barely be touching upon the details of what led me to be a single mom. My life has moved on. What happened did happen.
This is my life. This is the life I have come to love. I wake up with a smile on my face every morning. So here goes nothin’.
Married at 23. Baby at 24. Divorced by 25.
Just when you think it’d never happen to you. Not me? High school homecoming queen? Captain of college cheerleading team? I fall into the statistic of the 50% divorce rate. That is a tough one to swallow. And so young! And with a baby? But why couldn’t she work it out for the child? And everything happened so fast! Rush through everything… that’s what those kids do these days.
Judge, judge, judge.
I could advise you this way: Do not judge a book from its cover. Everything looks perfect from far away. That’s what nice people say right? Not that I disagree with the meaning of those sayings; quite the contrary, I believe them to the fullest. But also for me, you have free will. Think about the situation however you may wish. I know what happened, and to be frank, that’s all that matters in my heart. Oh, and the only other thing that matters is this little ray of sunshine named Holden Brooks.
These past few years embodied the highest of highs, most of one life’s milestones, and the lowest of lows. It’s about time to get on with it.
If you haven’t noticed already I think I need to make one thing clear: I am not a writer. I’m writing this blog as if I am talking directly to you and telling my story. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive any grammatical errors.
I am writing this blog for many reasons. One of which came from a brilliant counselor who I visit often. My counselor said that whenever I get the urge to express emotion, whatever emotion that may be but especially anger, write it down. Release it. Let it go. Then forget about it. At least it will feel like you’ve gotten it out of your system, and in a sense, feel like someone had listened.
Months and months later, especially now that my anger has evolved into gratitude and humility, I still release them. Maybe there will actually be someone listening. And maybe, just maybe, these words can help someone else who has gone through a similar situation. So that’s reason one.
Reason two: convenience. I can go through Pinterest for hours and super-glue my eyes to every tutorial on how to document everything about your growing child’s life, and sure I do carry out some of them. Having a blog about my child could be added to that list, but at least everything is in one spot this way, and if I need to refer to my blog to find the date in which Holden gets his first haircut and thus modge-podging a picture of it onto a wooden Hobby Lobby frame while writing it on the chalkboard and taking a picture of it all together, then I can do it here. Whew, that was a lot. Oh, and this way I can avoid all of the fabulous wedding ideas of that dream wedding I will never have…again. (Ok if you’re going to read this, understand I’ve healed enough to be sarcastic and make fun of myself.) You Pinterest lovers know what I’m talking about.
Three. It’s Holden and me versus the world. It takes two, baby. Every day I try to get the most out of the time we spend together, and I want him to get the most out of it too. I would like to have these stories and experiences together remembered, and possibly shared with other parents. As a parent myself, you always develop and tweak ideas from other parents. It’a a never-ending circle.
Four. Myself. I am doing this for myself. That’s all I’m going to say about that reason.
Please feel free to stay tuned or pass along, or not. Doesn’t matter to me. Just know this, being a parent is a wonderful, wonderful thing. I have gone through something traumatic, something I wish upon no one, and I am not going to hide away the most incredible miracle that came right from that experience. Holden’s life is an ongoing celebration.