I have never kept a journal or a diary. I think about something 4,000 times before I post it onto social media. But I am trying to step outside of my comfort zone in hopes that I can help someone else.
I am 30 years old and I have a two year old son. He is everything I could have ever asked for in a child, but the situation that I brought him into is not as perfect. He was created in what I thought was love with my on and off again boyfriend of over 5 years. We had a connection. Something kept bringing us back together. Needless to say that the birth of my son kept us off permanently.
He already had one child and wasn’t fond of having another. I never wanted to be a single mother either. I convinced myself and him that if we could love our child together as the people we knew each other to be that everything would be fine. So, we moved forward. Searched through baby names, went to doctors visits together, discussed our ideas of parenting, etc.
I had a rough pregnancy. I was more than large and my son was too small. I was put on bed rest and had a few hospital stays for early contractions prior to having my son. The birth was just as rough. I lost a lot of blood, slipped in and out of consciousness, and almost lost my life. After, I felt so blessed to be alive. I was so excited about the new life I had brought into this world. All of these events brought my son’s father and I together. We lived in happiness for a while as we awed over our new joy. We still were not together. Friends who occasionally had romantic moments and intimate encounters. We slipped back into feelings but tried to also form boundaries. It was gray. Never black and white. I made personal sacrifices and accepted less than okay standards to have this falseness of a family be my reality.
That did not last long. Things started to show face value. Lots of things came to the light. He was vague and dishonest. He let me believe what I wanted and then would blame me for my feelings, never validating them. I lost focus. I was not focused completely on myself or my son, but the idea that things needed to be fixed or changed. I devoted a lot of energy to that. Too much energy on conversations that were hardly two-sided or genuine.
Our son got older. He started to be more aware. I should have made better decisions at that point, but I didn’t so life made them for me. I found out that he had a third child who was the same age as ours. This DEVASTATED me. I did not know how to make sense of this. I could not put words or assign any feelings to what I was feeling. But I gave myself some time to sit in it.
I decided that was not for me. That was not my concern. I did not have to clean up his mess or put anything together for him. I decided it was not my responsibility to explain his mistakes. I decided it was my job to show my child how you handle situations like an adult. I knew I had to take responsibility for the role I played in this. For my naivety, my unwillingness to be honest with myself, the choice I made to be repeatedly involved with a man who did not deserve me. I also knew I had to show my son how a woman should stand up for herself and how he should love a woman. I knew I wasn’t going to accomplish that by hating his father because he was a part of him. I had to move forward in love. Accept that this is my story. Not move past it and get over the feelings I had. But to acknowledge that this is my story and take it with me into my future.
I call this blog the lemonade lady because I am deciding to make lemonade everyday with the lemons that I am given. I have a tendency to always see the good in people rather than situations. It is my goal to find a balance. I invite anyone to share in my journey as I try to make lemonade everyday.