A Letter to My Ten Year Old Girl

Dear Daughter,

Wow. Ten whole beautiful years of loving you. Of being your Mama. Of watching you grow and learn and live and love. You and I, dear girl, are quite the pair. God knew I needed you, more than I ever could have fathomed. When I learned I was pregnant with you, I had a seven month old baby napping upstairs. I cried because I couldn’t believe it…I cried because I didn’t feel ready. But the moment I found out that little baby on the ultrasound screen was a baby girl, everything started making sense. I. needed. you.

Sure you make me want to pull my hair out at times—your stubborn willful self is an awful lot like mine. But even after you and I may have a disagreement, I always know we will be okay. You’ve been a Mama’s Girl since the day you were born, and still today, at ten years old, you are. You’ll go to bed earlier if it means “Mom can tuck you in.” If it means Mom can lie with you, read, pray, tickle your back and listen to a song while holding your hand. Right now, you still feel you “need” that. And I can’t help but wonder how long that will last? “She won’t always like me…” I’ve said to myself.

Moms and daughters, Reese, often struggle. Maybe it’s when daughters start really coming into their own self and begin to have strong differing opinions or thoughts than their moms? Maybe it’s when daughters decide that their moms know nothing and just ‘don’t understand?’ I don’t think there is a magic age and perhaps I will be entirely wrong, but I keep expecting us to struggle. I guess even if you don’t have months or years where you just don’t want to be ‘close’ to me, I do know that we WILL struggle. But guess what? When we do, I will still need you. And I hope you will still need me.

I spent most of my life racing. By racing I mean wishing for the next thing—I wished to grow UP from a young age, and in many ways, as a kid I did grow up pretty fast. I think being the youngest sibling to a brother with severe special needs can do that. I couldn’t wait to drive, to finish high school. I couldn’t wait for college to move to Kentucky and to begin pursuing my dreams. I wished and I wished and I wished. Then God surprised me with YOU, and then time started to actually fly by. I found myself wishing for more of it…for it to slow down…for it to STOP even, like it could have a pause button, and I could freeze exactly where my kids were at in certain different moments. But we can’t do that, can we, Sis? Time is fleeting and I have said that from the very beginning of YOUR time.

You are so excited to be double digits. And you should be! You’re officially a “pre-teen” now and while I may not feel ready, YOU definitely are and regardless, it’s happening. If there is one thing I wish I could help you do though…it would be to try to stay present in the time you are in. Where ARE you right NOW? Let me tell you, dear girl.

You are perfectly, positively, YOU. You are such your own little person, with your own thoughts and personality and character and charm. You’re not me, or your dad, or your brother, or your friends—you are YOU and I pray you continue to love that little girl inside of you. You love deeply and have the gifts of empathy and compassion. This is your last year at the school your dad works at, 5th grade—recently it dawned on you that after this year, he will be “alone” at school, and you cried for him. Your heart is as big as the ocean, sweet girl.

You’re artistic and creative. You are genuinely funny and make me laugh out loud. You LOVE to dance and make videos. You’re discovering the world of makeup and flared jeans and skincare routines. I’ve worked hard to not display negativity around you when it comes to getting ready, or when trying on clothes. I know you are already sometimes struggling with looks and appearance and ‘what will people think…’ and I have taught you to remember the little girl inside of you. How would you talk to her? Would you be mean or hurtful or unkind? Of course not!! So I hope and pray DAILY that you will love yourself WELL. That you will find gentleness inside for the girl on the outside. Life is hard, Baby girl. But I hope you don’t yet know or realize HOW hard it is.

I look back at pictures, memories from Facebook, and I can’t help but beam. You are very much the same girl that you were when you were 6 months old, 12 months old, 2 years old, 4 years old, and beyond. You’ve been our WOO GIRL from the very beginning—an ER doctor actually was the one to describe you as that! When the sedation couldn’t really make you drowsy when they were going to stitch up your forehead as a toddler, the doctor exclaimed, “Boy you have a real woo girl on your hands!” One of my friends said she can see you being a CEO one day. You are strong. Determined. A go getter. And I don’t ever see that changing.

You might be mad at me for writing this next part, but I just have to. This space has been very much like an ‘online journal’ to me for many, many years. Recently you told your dad that you had seen a boy you had a crush on, in passing at school. You were so giddy about it and cute. You said the boy had nodded at you and smiled. Dad said, “How did that make you feel?” You replied, “My insides got all warm and fuzzy!!!” Oh Reese Elisabeth…I’m not ready for the seasons with boys. For the worries and wonders that will automatically come with that. But it’s okay—we aren’t there quite yet. When we ARE there, I hope you know that I am always here. You can ask me ANYthing, ANY time. I hope as you grow older, that you don’t shy away from your parents advice, and that you won’t ever, ever feel you have to hide. In all of your emotions, wonders, worries, and hormones, I AM HERE.

Last but not least, Brené Brown wrote, “We have to be women we want our daughters to be.” Elisabeth, you have seen first hand that I am far from perfect. I pray and hope so much though, that through my career of loving and teaching kids of all ages, mentoring young girls, coaching young girls, working incredibly hard in horse ownership and a photography business—I hope and pray that you see a woman you are proud of. I hope you see a woman who loves Jesus and who has trusted HIM with her whole life. Who though has been diagnosed with a serious medical condition, STILL chooses to trust and depend on Him. I hope you see a woman who loves her family and would do anything for them. A wife who has been head over heels with her husband for over fifteen years now! And I don’t want you to be ME, sweet girl, because I fully believe one day, you are going far surpass whatever ounce of greatness I may have.

Happy 10th Birthday, dear Daughter. I love you more than this post or any number of words could relay. Thank you for being mine, thank you for being such a friend and for needing me and truly loving me all of these TEN years.

Love,

Mama

The Walls I Need to Break

Walls.

Have you ever built them?

Around your heart, brick by brick, piece by piece?

December 7th I was diagnosed with Muscular Sclerosis. I handled it all with confidence, peace, and a scary level of stone cold, “I’m fine!” to all I’ve talked with. The truth is, I actually have felt ‘fine’ about the diagnosis. It gave me answers as to why so many different instances my ‘skin hurt,’ and it explained why and what my extreme nerve pain was in November. With the best MS team and an aggressive treatment plan, I have felt “fine.”

Suddenly though, I was thinking really terrible things. Things I don’t even feel comfortable typing within this blog post! Most of them centered around my marriage and for his sake, I’ll keep it as vague as I can here for my husband. We had some things come up, arise, and somewhere within me I just felt like giving up. In the past couple of weeks I have said some really hateful and hurtful things; my shortened version will just be transparent about the fact that giving up was legitimately ON my radar. “What if I just wasn’t here anymore?” was one of my scary to admit thoughts.

I told my mom I didn’t think I could cry. Other than with my extreme post spinal tap migraine, I really hadn’t cried. I told her that I’ve had zero reason to feel the way I’ve felt and definitely to have said the things I’ve said, and then it dawned on me……….

Walls.

Within each time I thought about my MS, and every time I told someone I was doing well and fine and good, I was adding more bricks on and around my heart. In the past couple of weeks, I have felt more annoyed as a mom than I can ever remember. I’ve also felt very unhappy in my work situation and being split schools. When my mom has asked how I am, I’ve respond back, “Everything is just meh right now, Mom. All of it.” Gray. Dreary. Muddy. No, I’m not just describing the way January looks in Kentucky—that’s how I have felt internally.

Oh the difficult conversations Asa and I have had. The tears shed, the nights we did indeed need to go to bed angry with hopes of trying again tomorrow. I haven’t wanted to be touched, I haven’t wanted to be hugged, I have wanted to simply be left alone, in my own little brick bubble.

And then? Realization happened. I have always been prone to creating walls. From a young age I have self-sabotaged lots of things, and sadly have hurt people by doing so. (Just ask my ex boyfriend from high school how I ruined OUR relationship…or maybe, actually don’t.) Psychology Today actually describes a lot of different forms of self-sabotage. There’s a paragraph there that discusses control, this may help you the reader, understand it a little more.

It feels better to control your own failure rather than face the possibility of it blindsiding you and taking you by surprise. Self-sabotage may not be pretty, but it’s better than spinning out of control. At least when you’re steering the ship, going down in flames feels more like a well-maintained burn.

Control / failure…two words that pretty accurately describe my ongoing fears, well before MS. I’ve written about fear of failure SO many times here, you may even remember. With MS, what control do I have? Think about it…I was given a serious new diagnosis, I was shown the multitude of lesions on my brain, and then……..I’m fine? “Going down in flames” is a part in that paragraph that describes how I have felt like navigating life. Asa, my patient, loving, gracious husband—even described to me that instead of working on this a little at at time (specifically an area in our life we need to work on), I’ve wanted to just blow it up and quit. He wasn’t wrong.

Walls.

I have had so many of you reach out to me and DM or text. While I haven’t shared super openly what I have been feeling, lots of of you just know:

“Hang in there. Absorbing and processing a new diagnosis takes time. Give yourself all the grace”

It’s only really BEEN a couple of weeks since I have started feeling the familiar feelings of self-sabotage. Asa and I have had some really great and needed quiet moments though, and have talked so openly about this new to ME feelings of nothingness. I don’t think I can ever say that I’ve struggled with depression, but I guess in a sense, I’m walking through it right now. While at the barn I didn’t even feel joy…I felt annoyed with the mud, the amount of time to groom and clean up and do ALL the hard work; but it never has felt like work to me before now? It’s been my therapy, my happy, my peace. So where to from here? Well, my only option is up. For my kids, my husband, my career, my horses—UP.

Recently I could have stayed in bed and just slept. It was the kids’ screen time, a Friday night when they are allowed to stay up later. I contemplated just not moving…just lying there, in the dark. But thank God I made myself get up. That was not who I wanted to turn in to, that was not a chapter of my story I wanted to start writing.. so I swung my feet onto the floor, called out to Reese and played a handful of card games with her. I promised myself I would be strong for them, for all of us. I know that within my strength, I am struggling.

But I also know that with time, prayer, positive actions, and repetition of doing things that I know are healthy for me, the walls one by one will come down, brick by brick.

Thank you for being here in this space and my life. For praying for me and with me. I plead with you to stick around. Don’t let me or my walls keep you out or away. And to my husband, thank you that within your choosing me, you are loving me so wholly and purely.