Jsack's Mom's Blog

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

Monday Musings-normal is relative to weird


What feels normal to you? Is it fitting in with the crowd, wearing clothes that are in style, or using a trending hashtag? Are you meant to blend in with the crowd or stick out like a sore thumb? I was always the later in my childhood days. The more I tried to fit in with the popular crowd the more I stood out. I’ve been called strange, weirdo, drama queen, and a worry wart. I wasn’t meant to be in the popular crowd morphing into something I’m not. I was born to shine and be my unique self.

I don’t believe there’s enough of that in today’s world. Most of society is convinced to buy the newest electronic device, wear the latest brand name, and listen to the most popular band. There was a word for these people when I was in high school, they were called sheep. This wasnt something I would judge because we’re all looking for validation in some way or another.

It’s lonely being the one without the big group of friends and on everyone’s social list. It also wasn’t something I strived to be either I found the pressure to be excepted by the cool kids was to immense for my fragile ego. I still don’t gravitate to that in my life. What’s the point of transforming your beautiful, unique self into someone that you don’t recognize nor respect. I walked this path once while my clothes were ridiculed, my hair style was criticized, and I sat there getting makeup applied with a heavy hand to my face. All I wanted to do was impress a boy and I ended up walking away from it all and the insanity and holding my self esteem intact.

After that brief experience of doubting myself I knew I had to work even harder on loving and excepting myself. As soon as I knew who I was other people would want to know too. In the first time in a very long time I feel comfortable in my skin. I laugh at my own jokes, break into song when I feel the urge, and I dance to the beat of my drum. This is who I’m comfortable being and how I raise my kids to be. I’ve lived my life with the philosophy of believing in myself and honouring that child that my parents brought into the world. Every time I let insecurities take their toll my soul dies a little. Normal is relative to weird and I’m ok with that.

This is my submission to #Mondaymusings from Write Tribe hosted by her and co-hosted by Vidya Surry. If you’d like to join in here’s the instructions

Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. . Make it as personal as possible.
Use the hashtag #MondayMusings and link to this post.
Add your link to the linky which you will find either here and on the post of a co-host.
Use our #MondayMusings badge to help other bloggers join in too.



#Monday Musings-Rejection

She stared at the words on her phone screen goodbye as her tears started to fall and the words blurred into a black squiggly mess. It’s how some people choose to communicate breaking up, getting fired, and ending friendships via text. It’s how disconnected and disingenuous our world has become when this is thought of as an appropriate form of communication. And yet knowing this didn’t stop the pain that she felt as the reality crashed down on her like a ton of emotional back logged sludge. Any way you slice the rejection pie it hurts. 

Goodbye-it seemed so easy to say after many years of a childhood friendship that ends in tatters and torment from one persons choices. She couldn’t understand the finality of those words but as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months it became abundantly clear. How was she supposed to break away from those feelings of guilt for stating an opinion, questions that were mistaken for judgement, how did she become enemy #1 when she had been supportive for so long? 

She wrestled with her own guilt and remorse for things spoken and not said. For all those times when death came knocking on ones door taking a loved one and how that friendship remained loyal and steadfast and supportive through those dark times. When she became so wrapped up in her own grief that she couldn’t breath through the tightness in her chest and her scalp where even her hair began to hurt! 

She was no stranger to grief as she had to say goodbye to her Grandparents, followed by the deaths of her Father and step sister who left the world in sickness and confusion. There was no one to save them from Cancer or a broken soul that couldn’t take the pain of living in the world any longer. Where she could still hear the incessant sound of the PSP pump when it ran out of morphine that was allowing her dear Dad to go gentle into that goodnight. A month after in her tear stained, grief encased fog she was met with the news of the suicide that her step sister took to end her pain. This death so fresh, shocking, and regrettable when the path of her existence of loss and devastation was to great to bear. She began to question what life was all about, how would she survive when her heart felt like it was literally broken in two, and how would she continue to get out of bed and raise her child? 

At one time there were loving arms to wrap around her as the death of her Mother brought her to a halt. When words failed her and she sang so loud and proud on the final day of goodbye that even heaven could hear her. Then after the song stopped and she closed her mouth the tears flowed and the grief wall overtook her like lava from an erupting volcano and burned up her heart. She couldn’t walk without assistance as her bulging pregnant belly and aching hips gave in to the world of loss around her. Words spilled out of her mouth but could find no meaning as they became fear infused stuttering. 

Somehow she managed to carry on and walk that path of hopelessness and loss and raise her children and live to face another day. She had successes, job transfers, losing and loving new friends that entered her life. Each move felt like another form of painful ending mixed with the excitement of a new beginning. So much so that she didn’t know if she really was coming or going in the chaotic existence she had carved out for herself. 

How did she say goodbye to a thirty year friendship, she didn’t have a choice she just had to let it go and grieve another loss in her life as her heart bled on the page once again…

  Today I share this with the #Mondaymusings link up hosted by Corinne of Write Tribe and co-hosted by Philosophers Stone


*Image used with permission from http://www.bravegirlsclub.com and found on their Facebook page hehttps://www.facebook.com/BraveGirlsClub/photos/a.143945461409.136897.138801301409/10153709766621410/?type=3re