Once upon growing up

This post was written last spring. I'm finally publishing it...

A.
“The world is a dangerous place to live, not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it.” 

My son has worn long sleeved shirts for two years. 

In 110 degree Arizona heat - long sleeves

In line at Disneyland - long sleeves

Every night to bed - long sleeves

Playing in the sprinkler - long sleeves. 

The only times I have seen him wear short sleeves is when he's swimming. 

There was a part of me that battled him on this for a while. Wanting to spare him the sweat - and more importantly the judgement that comes with dressing and acting different. But in the end - I decided to put my foot down when heat stroke began and until then - let him sort through it. I have learned, usually from painful errors, that when I listen to intuition we get right where we need to be. 

B.  

Tonight Shawn and I ate dinner outside. I pictured myself as a sponge and imagined soaking in the last of the nice weather before the heat that melts my flipflops and my soul starts to show up. The boys - one in a long sleeved shirt - are jumping on the trampoline and chatting with us. Its a good night. 

Ethan - finished with jumping - sits across from me and casually starts to tell me about school. The conversation starts to shift. I feel like he is...fishing. He wants to talk and he is testing the waters. 

Telling me about jokes he's heard. About words and gestures he doesn't understand. 

And then my 10 year old son tells me that he's seen pornography at school. He uses anatomical words to tell me exactly what he has seen.  I ask and he describes the way it made him feel. The fear and concern - he talks about feeling bad. And worrying about what would be thought of him. He lays all of his sweet and tender little heart on the table. 

I feel anger, disappointment, gratitude and peace.

I have always know - with certainty that this day would come. Its my belief you can't raise a child in this world and completely shield them from this. In some way - they will face it. But I trusted a school with my boy. And a schoolmate of Ethan's was able to access it during computer lab. 

No filter. No supervision. 

When I protect my child so vigilantly at home I expect the same when I trust them with him. 

I am absolutely disappointed in a system that builds fences to keep out those who could hurt them and then gives them free access to something that can wound in such a destructive way. 

 But there was peace. I sat across from this little boy and listened to him without a moment of fear.Honestly. I was filled with gratitude for the years of conversations between he and I that made this conversation possible - comfortable - honest. 

C.

Tonight I went in to tuck Ethan into bed. He was sleeping. Curled up looking so much younger - softer. And then I did a double take. My son was wearing a short sleeved shirt. For the first time in 2 years he was wearing a short sleeved shirt. 

Once upon a bearded reporter

Today was a regular day. I saw clients. Spent two hours in traffic.  Did some yoga. Made a quadruple batch of cinnamon rolls, brownies and dinner rolls. I think that baking gets an uneven proportion of my life. And although I am gluten intolerant and have not eaten my desserts in two years - I absolutely love it. Something about baking is therapeutic. Taking raw ingredients and creating something - its just so satisfying.

Somewhere mixed into all that "regularness" was a moment or two that if I didn't stop and recognize...they'd be lost.

One moment was at the doctors office. There was this reporter there taking pictures for a upcoming article about my doctor. And he came into the examining room with us. My doctor was asking me all these personal questions about my body and my period and topics one doesn't usually discuss in front of a bearded reporter and I was uncomfortable. At first I tried to be evasive and answered with "its good. " "things are better" And then my doctor said. "Well can you be more specific. " And I looked at him and said, "Not with that stranger in my room. I don't want to discuss this in front of him."
And the poor reporter turned red and I think he was out of that room in 1.3 steps. (My guess - he was uncomfortable to. Who wants to hear all about some woman's cycle???)

Later in my appointment my doctor said. "That was pretty strong of you. To know you were uncomfortable and then take care of yourself."

And I realized it was. Old Andrea, as I like to call her, wouldn't have known she had a choice. I would have discussed my private medical information in front of a complete stranger and been mortified and so incredibly uncomfortable all the while believing that I couldn't ask him to leave because
1. Thats rude
2. I might hurt his feelings
3. I might upset the doctor
4. I'm just a regular person and this doctor is in charge.

Sheesh. Girl, you've come a long way. Anyway, bearded fella left the room and Andrea got a good report card on listening to my heart and acting on it...even if you ruffle some feather along the way.

Expansion of me

My heart feels like it just expanded. Like an actual physical expansion. It was a wonderful feeling. Restorative and hopeful and gave me a taste of what a lifetime of love could possibly do to a human heart.

And so special because these moments don't happen daily. I wish they could - but then I'd probably explode with happiness. 

Tonight I got a glimpse of something ...

I laid of the couch reading Anne of Green Gables to Ethan (my future daughter in law can thank me later) and then I went on a walk with Shawn. The walk started at 9:15 and now two hours later I am sitting here reflecting on what happened. It started with us dancing in the streets. I told Shawn that we had to be figure skaters and put on a show in the street. We would be given 1 million dollars and could pay off our house and do wonderfully fulfilling things in this world with the money but we had to dance with no reservations. "Leave it all on the ice." And he went along with it.

 God bless that man. 

At one point I looked over and saw my handsome, technology loving, football is my favorite pastime, I just bought a shotgun last night husband - doing jazz hands while dancing down the center of the street. This is true. And I fell more in love. And I felt this expansion of my heart.  There is something about a man doing jazz hands with me that makes me feel safe. Almost as if he is saying " I love you so much that I will do this." I mean, if he will do jazz hands for me - his love is starting to feel limitless. 

And then we talked. We played old Heytell messages (kinda like a walkie talkie) that we exchanged while we were dating. And reminisced about those early magical days of falling in love. 

I thought of this song from Mindy Gledhill while we were listening to our sweet and somewhat embarrassing attempts at flirting over hey tell - 

"you, I've loved you from the start. In every single way. And more each passing day."

I really did love him from the start. As if something in his heart whispered to my heart - "I'm safe. I won't hurt you" It was all about safety in those days. All about protecting that little heart that felt like the glue that had mended it was still drying... 

He saw me. He heard me. And looked at me like I was chocolate cake. And no one had ever looked at me that way. I really really love being his chocolate cake. 

This is mushy. And I'm feeling vulnerable writing it. I kinda want to log it in my journal and leave it there. But there is this other part of me that feels like every girl needs to feel this kind of love. Needs to be someones chocolate cake. I had NO idea this existed. And I know its not possible without Heavenly Father. He is the author of love. And he can heal our hearts and direct our lives right to where this love waits for each of us. We all can have it. Every single one of us. 

Once Upon A Heat Stroke

Today the boys and I took up running. And it was 100 degrees and I started to question the decision about 10 minutes in. I lie. I started to question the decision about 1 minute in when my water bottle was already 1/3 of the way empty.
Tyler seemed to be questioning this running practice too. I heard him mumble some words and although I couldn't make them all out I am pretty sure I heard, "meanest....stupid...nobody else..."

"We can do this Tyler. We can do hard things - our bodies are amazing and strong and they can do so much more than we give them credit for."

I was telling Tyler this - but mostly, I was telling Andrea this. Because in that moment - I really needed to hear it.

That is my journey right now. Fully living in this body. Grad school and the decade of my twenties was kinda like boot camp for my emotions and my brain. And I left that experience feeling pretty damn accomplished. Thinking that I had just climbed my own emotional Mount Everest. But we humans are not mountains to be climbed. There isn't really a finish line - just another hurdle to examine and prep and prepare for. And so...on the other side of that Mount Everest here I am. With a body that hasn't been loved or seen or respected or most importantly TRUSTED in a long time.

We are complex creatures aren't we? And it has taken me a long time to sort through all of this .To realize that witnessing bulimia firsthand as a toddler first planted the seed of body hate.  Messaging from media and family.  An ectopic pregnancy.  A toxic relationship.  These are all woven into the tangle that is my relationship and beliefs about this body.

  "This body can't be trusted. It is weak. It has hurt you. It's not like everyone else's.  I would see people running marathons and see mothers who were also strong athletes and I would think - "Yeah that could never be me." I would watch couples conceive effortlessly (ahem, well, I guess no conception is effortless...) and again the seed was planted "See, this body is not to be trusted. Something is wrong with it. "

And never realizing it was I who was saying, and thus creating such hurtful realities in this body.

 I was discovering and challenging my mind and loving and nurturing my spirit - all while neglecting this body. This body that never stopped living for me. A set of lungs that never stopped breathing. A heart that kept right on beating - even as it was breaking.

I'm starting to realize how connected it all is. Heart and Mind and Body.  And I believe - at least for me - this is the next chapter in my healing.

 I like catchy titles.  Lynsey and I used to call the year after my divorce the year Andrea got her chutzpa( pronounced Huutzpah...but we always said it with a grunt that kinda sounded like we were hacking something up) and it was kind of exciting those years - feeling like I was on a hunt for a part of myself. And so I'm thinking up a name for this next part of my journey. Any suggestions? I have a few ideas but most of them seem to involve J. Lo or boodylicious so... I'm thinking I may need to stay in the brainstorming stage a tad longer.

And so to honor this intention I start with an affirmation. One that I want to plant and nurture and someday know.

"My body is a gift. Beautiful, capable and strong.  It deserves to be loved and respected and challenged. It can heal. And with it I can do anything."