This time last year I was sitting on the kitchen stool of a best friend of mine, drinking wine like it was pop and pontificating where my life had sent me and what I was going to do about it. I messaged an old boss in this state on Facebook and ended up receiving a job offer that turned into the real deal four weeks later. I was hours away from a family get together I never missed because I thought that I had my priorities mixed up, and I was considering working from home full time doing some sort of blogging, or vining, or support, or something.
What I really was was depressed. I was standing on fumes that I thought were foundational, and it took me nearly 8 months to accept that the friendship I had made my life-changer had actually already served its purpose for both of us and run its course. I love her. She changed my life. But I don't think she was meant to change me as much as she did, and I think she realized that before I could. I can't be the person who gives zero cares about anything but myself. And I'm far too selfish to be as altruistic as I let the world believe I am. She saw through both fronts, and called me on it via silence.
Which was horrid to go through, let me tell you. I'm a talker. Don't just not talk to me. Ugh.
2014 was the year of transition for me. I claimed it on that stool, not realizing what I was even saying. I didn't realize it meant more than changing the branch I worked at or the company I spent holidays with. It meant doing the work to become the things I've wanted to be. Like, just do it already.
I think this year of transition has made me a better manager. A better friend. More appreciative of the friendships I have that might not be the ALL AND EVERYTHING to support my life. I've realized that friends don't organically do that for each other past junior high. Really even in high school you realize that there are fundamental differences between you that only space can cure. Unless that friend is your family or your spouse, they need to be given their piece of your life, and not the whole. And that IS okay. See, this friend of mine who fell away. She saw this piecing as fraud. Everyone gets a version of Heidi - noone knows who the real Heidi is.
I think the answer is all of them. Only Heidi gets the real Heidi. Only you get the real you. You and God. I'm not the same person with Liz that I am with Lynn or with Lisa. But I am all of them, nevertheless. Yes, even when those versions contradict. This is the standing theory I have anyway.
For now.
This year made me braver. I've had enough health scares to put mortality into real truth range, and I think being a foster parent has helped my faith. I know that there is a graceful thread connecting these souls we bump into on our journey. I have learned so much about humility alone in the last three months that I'm certain I will take years to process.
Tonight for example - my 4 year old was an absolute beast about nap time. We had this awesome surprise of a matinee - just my boys and me - and he fell asleep on the drive home. When we got here, he woke up crying because he just KNEW it was nap time and he wasn't happy about it. SO, I go through the shpeel about how nap time happens every day - and the sooner he has it the sooner he can wake up. We go through two hours of this fight and finally - after five warnings that nap time would turn into bed time if he wasn't careful - I pulled the trigger and put him in his pjs. The world absolutely ended for him. He hit the wall, screamed until he was hoarse, just went full banshee mode. And I decide I want evidence - proof of just how quickly he turns from "I SO SORRY I NEVER DO THAT MELT DOWN AGAIN" to the HORRIBLE melt down to beat all melt down once he realizes the apology didn't get him his way. I pull out the voice record app on my phone and set it in the room as I open the door - and the strangest thing happened.
I completely changed the way I spoke to him. I felt justified - vindicated even - for all of the threats and lost privileges I had bestowed. After all, I had explained it over and over to him hadn't I? I gave him five tries when others give three. I never raised a hand to him. I put up with the punching and the poo in the pants and the destruction of toys. I was RIGHT. But when I knew the conversation was documented, I became Mother Theresa. It was just a voice recording, but I crouched down so that we were on eye to eye level. My tone became placating - I paused to check for understanding. I said I love you 10 times more than I had at any other exchange that evening. I ran my hand up and down his hair to soothe him. And when I closed the door, cringing and waiting for the explosion that just had to follow as it had all night - NOTHING happened.
Two hours later and I just checked on him - he's asleep with tear streaks down his cute little face, and I feel like the wicked witch of the whatever. So yeah, 2014 has taught me humility.
I wonder what 2015 will bring? I've no clue how long these boys will be in my life, or how long I will be a parent in any form. These children do not feel interchangeable to me - at this point the possibility of not adopting them doesn't leave me with any desire to adopt someone else in their stead. Maybe these lessons we are learning from each other is all that God wanted us to gain from this experience. Maybe I've encouraged someone who will be much better at this than I am to go for it after seeing my candid flubs and foibles along the way. Maybe there will be another soul out there that I'm meant to parent permanently. Maybe these boys will be my own some day. For now, I know about today. This week. Most likely next month. And that's enough.
Work, friends, fitness, finances -- it's all needing revisited. And I will do. But when I think about what the theme should be for 2015, I think it's got to be about embracing happiness. Choosing to see the good in the world - to give it air and ground to breathe and stand on. Allowing myself to see the good in me. Making sure I protect that - project it out to everyone else. Cultivate the cheer, and celebrate the moments we are graced with having - AS they happen.
