Little Dreams

I am a "go big, or go home" kinda gal.

It doesn't always work out in my favour.

I think it's a societal thing, really, but I'll go ahead and take full responsibility for my impossible-to-keep-up lifestyle. Why volunteer for one organization when there are five who need an extra set of hands? Why aim for a five pound weight loss when you could lose twenty? Rather than taking the small, necessary (and feasible) steps toward something, I have a really bad habit of leaping off the edge without thinking things through. W'hoops. Needless to say, I've landed on my ass about 77 billion times.

At some point, though, I think reality has caught up to me. Instead of setting outrageous goals I'll probably never really achieve, I need to make smaller ones. I mean, not even mega-planes can fly forever without stopping to refuel. Cars need to pull into rest stops for oil changes, new tires... why is it so hard to accept that I have to do these things too? I can't race through a day without stopping for at least one meal or bounce through my week sans sleep. Instead of taking over the entire universe in a day, I have to break it down into one region at a time.

Dreams don't have to be gigantic, they can be as small as a pin. They're mosaics, made up of millions of little pieces: more attainable pieces, pieces that fuel you and motivate you to accomplish that next goal and catch that new dream. Some dreams take days to realize and others will take years. Some will take minutes, seconds even. Some are the result of good fortune, but most are the result of hard work and dedication, love and conscientiousness.

But, you'll never realize a dream you gave up on, so go for it! You won't be sorry.

Standing up

This post is a little bit angry.

You have been warned.

When I first started this blog, I mainly wanted to treat it almost as a diary only with less tears and smudged ink. I wanted to unleash how I felt, get my fingers moving across the keyboard and record my thoughts, feelings, fears, and aspirations in a way that was as positive as I could possibly make it. I wanted to be able to come back and look at the posts in a week or two, and feel better - even if no one else ever looks at it.

I recently made the deicision to go back to school. When I moved in with my now ex-husband, I gave up a lot of my dreams and goals. When we got pregnant, I gave up my social life, my friends and my identity. When my son was born, I made a half-assed attempt to get my education together. I loved the program I was enrolled in - working with persons with various (dis)abilities. I have always been fascinated with autism - stemming from my bus-buddy, a young man seven years my junior who had autism. Gabriel was smart, sweet, and incredibly talented. He would often sit and tell me about a movie he watched or video game he was playing in such detail I imagine it was still playing in his mind's eye.



Who wouldn't make sacrifices for a face like that?

When I left college to research a better fit for me, I helped my husband go back to school. We were married, had renovated a home and were even discussing getting pregnant again. When an opportunity to go into Public Relations - a career I have always wanted - presented itself to me, I sadly had to turn it down. It wasn't feasible. Fast forward six months and my husband and I had separated, I was alone and struggling on a shitty salary, in an OK job, feeling completely unfulfilled. This was NOT the life I wanted for myself. So I decided to make the life I want for my son and I.

First, let me say that I am being a little bit selfish and that I think it's OK. I give up my own sanity on a daily basis, so I figure selfishly wanting a better education, career, home, car, wardrobe, and POSSIBILITES can be allowed - mainly because that selfishness will spill over into the selflessness of being able to give my son all of the things that I want for him: an education, the opportunities to enjoy afterschool activities like sports, vacations to cool places, a safe home, a happy mom.

Evidently, all of this makes me a bad mom. Yep. I'm a bad mom for wanting to better myself.

Going back to school means a big sacrifice. It's in another city, four hours from our present home. Daycare is expensive and hard to get into. The waitlist is about a year. So I put my name in, accepted my seat at school, went apartment hunting and accepted that, for the first time in my life, I will be living alone. My son will primarily be staying with my parents.

I felt really great about this decision - who is going to love my son more than his grandparents? They raised me in a home filled with love, and while it's not the ideal situation, I'd rather my son be with them in a safe home, where he will be engaged, loved, cared for, spoiled, supported and disciplined according to my standards than for him to be in a daycare with strangers and twenty-five other kids, getting less one-on-one time, being exposed to behaviours and language I'm not comfortable with and missing the people who have been with him almost every day since he was born.

Many of the people I have spoken to about my plan have responded with love. Words of support and congratulations, wistful "I wish I would have been as brave as you are", empowering "you deserve this" and warm "you'll do great, no matter what" comments have made a hard decision a lot easier to take. All of my good feeling was spoiled in a single sentence, from a bitchy "frenemy" from high school.

"Wow, so you're just leaving him behind like that?"

Cue the entire world of good feeling and excited anticipation falling down on my head.

Yes, I am leaving him behind. It's a temporary fix - kind of like the temporary fix where we moved back into my mom's place because my ex doesn't financially support us. Or like the "temporary fix" where she's been living with her parents, with her kids, for four years.

But I am NOT abandoning him. I will drive home every weekend I am able (weather permitting), and I am renting a two bedroom apartment so he can come and stay with me often . As soon as I find an affordable daycare that I feel comfortable having my son attend, he will move in with me.

I didn't become a mother under the circumstances I would have liked, but I am blessed to have this little boy. I love him, and I want what's best for him. An unhappy mom who never realized her dreams is not what's best for him. A mom who's working a minimum wage job and barely getting by is not what's best for him.

So, to every person who feels that I am a bad mom for making a tough decision that they don't have to make:

Walk in my shoes for a day. Feel the hurt that I feel in my heart day in and day out. Experience the fear I have for what the next year of my life is going to entail. Feel the loneliness I live with, knowing that I really have no one I can talk to who truly understands what I'm going through. After you've done that, go ahead and judge. Call me a bad mother... but you might be surprised to know that your opinion has changed.

 

F and I, being silly.

 

 

I never once complained to be perfect. Finley goes to bed late, watches TV, and sometimes to avoid a fight, I let him skip brushing his teeth. But I love him and cherish him and you can never take that from me.

Steps in the Right Direction

Sometimes, deciding which way to turn can be difficult.

We are constantly faced with choices - some are frivolous, like what jeans to wear, while others are life-changing. Making the decision to stand up for what I wanted was difficult - telling my husband to make a choice was earth-shattering, and letting him go was the hardest thing I have ever done. But, in the end, I made the right choice that day.

Today, some of the choices I make include what to eat for breakfast and whether or not I will stay in my PJ's all day. Real glamorous, no? When I look at my Mom and Dad, I see two people who make the "easy" decision, day in and day out. Changing your life, your routine, your patterns is hard. I think that is why both of my parents lead the lives they lead. My Mom never finished school, and never went back. She didn't realize any of her goals, but she drives my brother and I towards goals sometimes we don't even really have.

In the past, I've let others set goals for me, and I've worked towards them. "Go to University! Make something of yourself!". That didn't last. Why? Because it never felt like it was mine. Setting goals is almost as hard as working towards them. What is it I really want? How am I going to get there? Is it realistic?

Learning I was pregnant was a surprise - I had been told by more than one doctor that I probably would not get pregnant due to cysts on my ovaries and polyps on my uterus. My iron was low, my periods irregular. It hurt to hear, but I had accepted it. I'm adopted - I would have happily adopted children. My boyfriend (now my ex-husband) was supportive as I tried to work through the emotions of possibly never having children. He was significantly less supportive when we learned about my pregnancy.

A smarter woman would have walked away then, but I was young and afraid so I stood by waiting for him to come around. To many, it looks as though he did but in reality, he never stood by my side. Almost five years later, I had enough.

The right path isn't always laid out in front of you, I've learned. Sometimes you have to climb over or dig beneath debris... other times you have to pound it out with your own two feet. It is almost never the shortest route, but it's bound to be the one with the best view at the end.

With F, enjoying a boat ride!

 

Being a single mom isn't easy. Infact, sometimes I feel like it's damn near impossible. We lived in our house all winter on one income, trying to heat it, power it, clean it, fill the fridge all the while my ex was out partying, buying himself a new truck and meeting his current girlfriend.  It's a fight day in and day out. It is lonely and confusing and scary and totally worth it. The road is covered in bumps and lumps, I've fallen down and had to climb back up but at the end of it, I have a great little boy who loves me and knows how much I love him.