Secrecy + shame = silence. That is one dangerous equation. And all too common in this world. There’s an alternative solution though. It’s telling our truths. It’s not an easy solution to work out. The truth is it’s damn hard. The whole truth is it’s worth the excruciating effort.
An Instagram post by Holly Glenn Whitaker of @hipsobriety grabbed my attention a while back. She made a list of things she doesn’t do anymore, as opposed to the oft’-oppressive and always forever-replenishing to-do lists we compose for our lives and then fret over. I adored her concept and followed suit.
Times, they are a changin’. And by times, I mean my waistline. Read about my expansion in my new and published post, “Does This Vacation Make My Butt Look Big?” here at Bluntmoms.com!!!
Love is multi-lingual. And like anything that speaks a language: a person, a body, a face; love can be misunderstood or hard to interpret.
So much in life is cyclical, here for a season, then gone. Like the feelings or emotions that we often mistake for love. So very little is constant. Including the ability to love people the way they need you to love them, for an extended period of time. Because that is some very hard work. Work akin to building Egyptian pyramids or calming a furious toddler. But as for that hard work, as the principle goes, what you get from it usually makes it worth it.
Even so, as worthy as the work may be, it can feel like churning butter, and not at all sustainable for the long haul. At least I think, because hello, it’s 2017 and so of course I have never churned butter. But I’m still fairly confident in this metaphor. And sometimes we need a break from the churning. Our loved ones will be ok with that, for a beat. But we do need to re-engage with that hard work, again and again. Because if we stop churning indefinitely, we won’t see the results we’re hoping for, our relationships won’t be solid.
I can feel incredibly alone in a room full of people. Terribly alone in a sea of people. Utterly alone in a world of over seven billion people. Such is the way of an introvert. Paradoxically, often the best way for me to keep loneliness at bay is to spend time alone. I can be all by my lonesome and not feel the least bit lonely. I know, it’s a real head scratcher. The most heart-wrenching form of loneliness though, is feeling irrevocably alone in the company of the one person in the world who vowed to love you the most. I’ve felt that too. That flavor of loneliness is what made me give up for all intents and purposes on my marriage many years ago. I didn’t leave the marriage, but I did give up on it. And that did not work out so well for me.