Growing Pains

Well, it seems like one foot forward and a few feet back. Do you know what I mean? Today is such a win because I woke up with the alarm at 5 am. Today, I was going to start with 7 am yoga. I’m still working out the kinks of a morning routine and doing the things I say I want to do – exercise, meditation, reading, and writing. Kelly and I made a commitment to exercise together every morning until the wedding, and I have the same commitment to myself to write every day. Today, there were steps closer.

One, the alarm was set. Hashtag: winning. I also picked up a book and started reading while I was drinking my green juice and morning tea. Hashtag: crushing it. Look at me go, up early and reading already. The plan was to go to yoga at 7 am, get all the juices flowing and then come home and write.

Such a good plan.

And then we derailed a bit. We decided not to rush right out of bed and instead, we would go to a 9 am breathing/meditation session. Sounded great. We doubled down and went for a walk with the dogs first. A few steps out and Kelly announced that the 9 am had been cancelled. No big deal, we are walking with the dogs. This is great.

We took in the fall air, the Halloween spooky decorations along the way, the cooler air, the changing leaves, and the Tennessee beauty of October. We walked, held hands, kissed a few times, joked, talked about the wedding, let the dogs swim and then it started to go south. A few feet backward.

Hashtag: wipeout.

I started it by asking Kelly about the schedule. I immediately sensed her frustration with the question. “I have trouble keeping it all in my head… what I need to do for Lucy… for others… what I need to plan…” she continued and began to tune out a bit. I got it… I shouldn’t have asked and I also get that you feel like you need to be the one in charge of it all. I was looking for a conversation about fun stuff to prepare for the week and I poked the Beast of making you feel like you are the boss.

I tried to course correct and derailed us even further. “Where are we at with the assessments for Lucy?” Kelly asked. “I don’t know,” I responded. We had been working with a company all summer and it seems like this has been dragging on forever always with something missing – a parent form, a teacher feedback survey, it’s been going on and on. “Did the teacher send in her form?” She continued. “I don’t know,” I responded. This went on with all my answers the same. “Well, what’s going not with it,” she asked getting tired of the “I don’t knows.” “Well, Rick took this over and I’m not sure where he is at with it,” I casually replied. That was the bomb.

Hashtag: explosion.

This is where the growing pains come in. It is always the stuff between the lines or just below the surface that seem to derail the best of intentions and the best of conversations. It’s the stuff that wasn’t getting said that created the upset and the disagreement. Let me first start with my own shit that I tried to bury, or step over, or whatever analogy we want to use for trying to cover your own shit and not let anyone know it is there or that it stinks.

I made a commitment that I would be in charge of this assessment stuff for Lucy. All was going great until the emails started coming from the assessment to only Rick and Kelly. I told myself this was no big deal, but that was covering up my shit. That was a load of shit I was telling myself. Truth, it touched a button of insecurity for me. I still feel shaky in this relationship with Lucy. Am I her friend? Her pastor? Her buddy? Her co-parent, her stepmom? What the heck am I and where do I fit in her life?

This is a tricky one that we all have been navigating for a summer. There aren’t any easy answers and so much of it is trial and error and course correction. Here is the tender spot underneath, I am terrified of the place this little girl has already taken up in my heart. I’m scared that I’ve let someone in so deeply, because the loss would be unbearable. I’ve spent my life mitigating risk. Losing my brother was a blow I still haven’t recovered from and I decided at 16 years old I would never let it happen again. That meant no one is getting in, not like that. It’s worked. I haven’t gotten my heart shattered like the day I found out he died. I also haven’t let love in either. Turns out, you can’t pick and choose with the heart. It’s all or nothing. I can’t let the love in and keep out the hurt. They come together. So yes, I did keep the heartache and pain at bay, but I also kept myself distanced from love, connection, and belonging. Over the years as I’ve opened the valve on letting love in, the fear of the loss catches me sometimes. With Lucy, it catches me a lot. How is it possible to love a little human so much and risk them exploding your heart? It’s a risk for sure. And one I now know I am willing to take. The price is high, but the reward is greater.

I didn’t get copied on the email from the assessment center and it poked at my fear. It worried me that I will never be a “real” parent to Lucy. Her mom and dad will always hold that spot and I’ll be somewhere in second place. I worried that because of this I could lose Lucy at any time. The truth, I’m realizing just how all in I am with her. I’ve let myself really love her and that scares the shit out of me. Rather than say the truth, I’m scared and tender, I tried to hide it from myself, first, and from Kelly second. I didn’t want to acknowledge that I’m vulnerable, that I’m finding my legs with letting love in, and that I don’t always have the answers. Instead, I covered all this up and tried to hide it with “I’m fine” and “this doesn’t bother me.” How many times have we done that? How many times have we stepped over our shit, our vulnerability, our wounds, our fear, our hurts with a version of “I got this” or “I’m fine” or “this doesn’t bother me?”

Here is the funny part of it all. What we all want at the end of the day is love, belonging and connection, right? So, we hide our shit. We bury it and pretend it isn’t there. We don’t want others to know that we do have shit and that it does stink. We don’t want anyone to see this because we are afraid if they see it, they won’t like it, and thus won’t like us. We do this with our actual shit as well. We flush it and just like that, it’s like it never existed. And if there is any remanence we try to cover it up with Pooporoui or bathroom spray. Nothing happened in here and I have no idea why it suddenly smells like an orange grove or rose bush. Or, we frantically clean any traces of poop in the bowl with the toilet brush. Confession: I have done this SO many times! I don’t want anyone to hear, see, or smell my poop… Ever!

So, we try to hide our poop and all we end up doing is hiding the best parts of ourselves.

What? The poop is the best part? Yep. The shit is where it’s at!! I know, mind-blowing. Hashtag: poop rules! Hashtag: I heart poop… I digress. In hiding our shit, we hide the best of ourselves – the part that is tender, sensitive, wounded, and intimate. This is the good stuff. First, it’s a practice of not hiding it from ourselves and second, it’s a practice of not stepping over it with those we love.

Here is the beauty in picking up the poop. I started writing this morning and realized my own shit. I’m scared about Lucy, I love her more than I feel comfortable with, and I feel so vulnerable loving her this much and being so unsure of my role with her. I also realized that Kelly began to uncover this and I made it her fault and derailed the conversation. I stepped in it twice. First, I tried to hide my insecurities when I didn’t get included in the email. Rather than admitting this to myself and her, I just dropped the project and pretended it wasn’t my job. Second, I let Kelly down on something I agreed to do. When she called me out on it, I turned it around and made it her fault. I did some gaslighting and that is hard to own.

Hashtag: love hurts.

So, I stopped writing and asked Kelly to come into the office. I turned away from the computer and had her sit down on my reading chair. I took off my glasses and took her hands in mine. “I want to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I stepped in shit twice with you this morning and then I tried to blame it on you. First, the email situation did hurt my feelings and the truth is that I’m scared about how much I love Lucy and how shaky I feel as a parent to her. Truth- I’m scared. I own that I didn’t acknowledge this and I pretended I was fine with it. I then let you down by taking the lead on this. I’m sorry. I stepped in shit twice. I love you, and I get it now.” Tears came to her eyes and she simply said, “I love you.”

I showed her the shit and she said “I love you.”

So crazy.

Again, we connected, reconnected and I felt us get closer to each other. We will continue to have growing pains and I’m sure I’ll step in it a thousand more times, at least. Maybe next time I won’t lock in so deeply denying that indeed… it was me… I stepped in it. Maybe next time I’ll own it sooner. And maybe someday, I’ll see it as it is happening and not hide it at all. I can only imagine… loving another so completely that I don’t even try to hide my shit. Hashtag: I love the shit out of you.