Therapy: The Best Thing to Happen to Me in 2020

A few years ago you wouldn’t have seen what you see on the Internet today. You especially wouldn’t have seen therapy talked about so openly — on the web or in person. Times have changed. People’s mental health has become viewed more as a problem with solutions instead of a problem labeled as a taboo and never talked about. And hallelujah for that.

2020 was hell in a hand basket, no doubt. Everyone had his or her fair share of struggles last year. We are all surviving everything that was thrown our way last year, albeit some are better at it than others. Some of us are floating, some of us are swimming, some of us are sinking, and some of us are in a boat paddling with oars.

Enter: therapy.

You can read the rest over on Knoxvillemoms.com.

My 2020 baby, you turn one here soon

My 2020 baby, you turn one here soon.

You didn’t see a restaurant until seven months old. You’re still scared of people with facial hair. You don’t like to ride in the car because you haven’t ever really had to.

Your first year of life was full of all the normal first year milestones, it was just that no one was around to see them. You still learned, grew, developed, and flourished. You taught me that independence, resilience, and strength can come from even the tiniest of people.

Your first year of life was a whirlwind. It was simultaneously the longest and shortest year of my life. You found your voice amongst all the silence, your determination within the loneliness, and your love within the people closest to you.

My 2020 baby, your first year has set the stage for all your years to come.

You can do anything, sweet baby. Even when everything is stacked against you.

Your first year proved it.

This post was originally published on Facebook.

Home Is Where You Make It - Even Without Family Nearby

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

It wasn’t a decision that was made lightly. I didn’t think it would be forever, maybe just temporary. Freshly married, off we went into the unknown, leaving behind our families and the town we grew up in, where we had always called home. It wasn’t easy, but we did it.

That doesn’t mean I don’t miss the place I grew up. That doesn’t mean everything is super easy without any family around to help out. That doesn’t mean my heart doesn’t ache for my kids who can’t just take a 5-minute drive to their grandparent’s house like I did growing up. That doesn’t mean I don’t get teary-eyed knowing grandparents and great-grandparents are missing milestones in our lives I know they’d love to see. That doesn’t mean I don’t ponder on what is lost because we made the decision to move away.

That also doesn’t mean I regret making the decision. It just means it was thoroughly thought out, and it was one my heart had trouble making. I’m glad we made the decision to pack up and move away from all we had known because I think I needed to.

Moving away made me grow up. I had to.

Just because you get married, doesn’t mean you automatically become more mature overnight. When you later have a child, it doesn’t automatically give you a sound mind that makes all the right decisions. (Boy, don’t I wish).

Moving away taught me to rely more on myself and that I was capable of doing things—even the hard ones. Moving away made my husband and I rely on each other instead of on our herds of family members in the town we had just left. It gave us room to grow, separately and together, and now I hope it has given our children the courage to see the world.

Sitting here in my home in a state I never thought I would be living in, I’m happy.

We made hard choices and fought many battles to get here, but here we are nonetheless. We have made a new place home, and I love it. I love the fresh faces, new scenery, and previously unheard of opportunity that the new place I call home brings my family. I wouldn’t go back to change a single thing that brought me here and I sure don’t want to uproot my family from the place I’m contently and happily calling home. The place my kids will get the chance to call home as they grow.

I never want my kids to think they have to live where I do just because of familial obligation, pressure, or because they thought they never had the chance to leave where they grew up. Part of me thinks my kids may end up in the place I grew up, one day raising their own families. Nothing would bring me more joy than to know they had the courage and freedom to make that choice themselves. If they end up next door to me, I know my heart would rejoice more than anything, but I want them to do it because they want to.

Choosing where to live and raise a family is a monumental decision, and I don’t think anyone takes it lightly.

It’s even harder on the people who choose to lock in on a place that is away from all the people they know and love. It takes courage, heart, and a whole lot of determination. There’s fear, sometimes there is regret, uncertainty, and questioning. Occasionally, there’s longing for the people you love and there are tears when your children ask to go see their grandparents but they can’t.

But, there are planes and interstates. There are family vacations and FaceTime. There are cell phones and landlines. There are stamps for letters and there are packages that can be sent.

There will be love no matter where you decide to call home. There will be opportunities and support, too. You will make new friends who become like family to you, and boy, are they great. There will be long-awaited visits, both coming and going. There will be excitement and sadness. There will be chaos of emotions almost all the time. That’s life. But I can testify, there is freedom in allowing yourself to face the unknown and to chase opportunity.

There will be joy in finding a place to call home for your family.

Seek it.

Find it.

No matter where it ends up being, allow yourself to be happy.

Home is where you make it.

Dear Tired Mom, It's OK To Say No

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

If the global pandemic has taught me anything at all, I’ve learned it’s OK to say no. I do not have to justify to anyone my reasoning for saying no.

No is a complete sentence and an answer.

I used to let the overwhelming possibility of missing out on life keep me from saying no. Well, not anymore. Now that I have barely left my house for almost four months, I’ve discovered I can miss out on stuff and (gasp!) still survive.

I still have friends. I’m still happy. I’ve realized my kids don’t know, or even care, what they’re missing if they never knew it was on the table in the first place.

I was the one who held that weight on my shoulders—weight I put there myself.

Don’t want another thing on your weekly to-do list? Don’t sign your kid up for that activity.

Say no to the demanding child. It won’t kill them. That’s right, I said it. Let them pitch the fit in the middle of Target over being told a big, fat no. I guarantee more women will be staring at you because of your guts than due to your crying kid.

Stand up for the way you choose to parent. Don’t let someone else belittle you, make you feel less than, or question what you’re doing. You are your child’s parent. Own it and don’t let people try to convince you otherwise. On the flip side, if you do make a mistake, then own that, too. Our kids deserve apologies the same as adults.

If you’re tired, then say no.

You don’t have to go to every girl’s night. You don’t have to meet up with family every single time they extend the invite. You don’t need to feel guilty if you don’t want to go to the park with your kids. Stay home in the AC all day and watch what it does for your soul.

You don’t have to do all the traveling for every. single. holiday. Do not do this to yourself. Roads run in all directions. People can come see you, too. If they don’t, then maybe that one’s on them?

Don’t want to cook dinner? Then say no. Tell the kids (and the big kid—ahem, I mean husband) to fend for themselves. Let them have cereal or frozen waffles or whatever they like. They’ll probably love you more for it anyway.

Do not let the weight of saying no hold you down. If anything, saying no just might free you.

I Wanted A Big Family But I've Reached My Mothering Limit

This post was originally published on Her View From Home.

These past few months have been . . . a lot. I honestly don’t have the words to articulate all the feelings I’ve had since the world turned upside down in March. I don’t ever feel like I can rightly discuss all that’s happening. I’m not informed enough, information changes too fast, I’ve been inside the bubble of my home for months on end, and I rarely turn the news on because it gives me anxiety and I don’t want to bring fear into my home that my kids will easily be able to pick up on—this list could go on forever.

Over these past few months, I have discovered I have hard limits.

I think we all have figured that out lately. As moms, we have had more thrown onto our plates than ever before and the mental load has become disastrously large for most. By the time my kids go to bed at the end of the day, it takes all I can do to simply pick a few things up and not leave a mound of dishes in the kitchen sink before I crash into bed myself.

I have never been so tired in my life yet unable to sleep due to sheer panic/anxiety/worry/fear/exhaustion/whatever you want to call it. At the beginning of the year, I jokingly said that my only goal for 2020 was to survive and, boy, what a tasteless joke that has turned out to be.

My kids have taught me more about myself than anyone or anything else ever has, and the pandemic has shown me that in epic proportions. I would follow my kids to the end of the earth (what mama wouldn’t?), but y’all, they have worn me out beyond repair and it’s only August. I have cooked and cleaned so much I’d rather just not eat than stand at the stove making another meal. I have opened and closed the back door so many times I’m pretty sure it needs new hinges. I have gotten so many snacks for tiny hands that if anyone yells “Snack!” at me again I might just lie on the floor and officially give up. There is enough laundry in my hallway right now that needs to be folded and put away for 18 people, but only four people live in my house. If it wasn’t for my husband stepping up and doing more than his share, I think 2020 would’ve already done me in.

2020, and this pandemic specifically, has opened my eyes to my limits. Every person has a breaking point. A person can only fit so much on their plate before it starts to crack and things start falling off.

I want to be a good mom, wife, sister, daughter, friend, cousin, aunt, and church member. I want to be able to not feel like my world is spiraling out of control. I want to be able to put effort into my marriage, into my personal dreams, and I want to give my kids the attention they deserve. I can’t do any of these things if I am spreading myself so thin there’s none of me left for anyone.

I know that if I had another kid to take care of inside my home right now I think my head would pop off my body.

I mean it, y’all. I just couldn’t do it.

Don’t come at me saying I shouldn’t have had kids, this is what I signed up for, I’m a terrible mother, etc. My kids are my joy and no one knew we would be parenting through a freaking global pandemic. Sure, I could use more patience and a break from my kids most of the time, but that doesn’t make me a bad mom.

The months-long home lockdown has shown my true colors in a lot of things. I’ve learned that in order to be the best mom for my kids, the best wife to my husband, and the best version of myself, I can’t have the house full of kids I thought I wanted.

I have learned that there is not enough of me to go around to make that possible.

And you know what? That’s OK.

A global pandemic turned most of our lives upside down and made us question most, if not all, of what we do. We have all had to reevaluate life trajectories and family goals. During these times we’ve all had to re-budget and dig a little deeper into our hearts to find the faith needed to sustain us.

I think this pandemic has shown me my weaknesses and strengths. It has opened my eyes to what I need to learn and what I need to tinker on inside of my own heart. I have been able to spend more time with my kids than ever before and I didn’t even think that was possible.

I want to be the best mom I can be and now I know I can’t do that if I am spread too thin to be even just myself.

Moms come in all forms, and some of the most mothering people I know don’t have any kids at all.

The number of kids you have living inside of your home does not make you any more or less of a mom. Please, don’t ever let anyone make you think that.