Dear Trolls

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You don’t know me.

Honestly, that should be enough of an argument, but it never is with you.
Because despite not knowing me, you think you know enough to say whether I’m a good or bad mother.
You make assumptions based off of a small piece of my life…
A snapshot you think you understand.

But here’s the thing troll…

You really don’t need to tell me what a horrible mother I am.
How you would “never do that”.

You don’t need to belittle me.
Beat me down.
Make me feel like I’m not good enough.
Like I’m failing at my job, and life.

You really don’t need to.

Because you see, I’m already telling myself that.
I’m already seeing all of my imperfections.


The times I post online about any “parent fails” that I decided to laugh about instead of cry about…

That’s just how I appear on the outside.
That’s the mask I wear.
Behind the computer, I am crying… on the inside.

Kicking myself for not doing better.
For not being better.

So you really don’t need to call me out.
Pull me down.
Try to hurt me for whatever reason trolls have for doing it.

Because I do it all on my own.

But because of my failures,

Because of my imperfectness…

Because I’m so hard on myself and only wish to be the best possible version of myself FOR my children…

I try harder.
Push myself more.
Make myself get creative.
Constantly looking for new or better ways to do things, to teach things.

Researching and googling and learning.

I’m always pushing myself, well past the point of physical or mental pain and exhaustion for my children.
Because I want them to succeed in life.
I want them to have the best childhood they possibly can have.
Not because of the “stuff” they’ve got.
But because of the adventures they had.
The memories we made.
And I always pray that they remember me smiling.
Happy.

Despite how I feel on the inside.
Like I’m not good enough.
Like I’ll never be good enough.
Like… what’s the point in me even being alive – I’m sure there are others out there who could do better.

So troll, you really don’t need to criticize me.
I do it well enough on my own.


But thankfully troll, you’re not the only voice I hear or see.
You see troll, there are people who are cheering me on.

Who see my imperfections… but see me smiling through the hard parts.
Making light of rough days.
Because they’re going through them too.

Honestly troll… I feel bad for you.

If you really honestly knew me, you’d know I’m the type of person who will always lift you up when you’re having a bad day.
And thankfully those are the type of people I surround myself with.

Because after your comment, that’s exactly what I got.
People who were kind and loving and lifted me up after a bad day.

So good bye troll.
You’ll just be another person on my “Ban/Block” list.

I’m very sensitive and have an overactive imagination.

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I can’t watch scary movies.
Or videos of kids or animals that get hurt.

I can’t listen to stories or see pictures of those either.

Because I feel everything.
I see everything.

It only takes a mention of a “trigger word” for me to have a full-fledged movie running through my head of what I imagine happened. And I’ll live with that pain until I can fully take my mind off of it, and forget about it. Which is really really hard to do.
Have you ever tried to not think about something? Someone?

It’s hard.

One of the more safe examples I can give you without causing myself too much pain and anxiety, because I’ve talked about it enough and know I did my best… was the day that Justin almost drowned.

 

We were at the beach, and Justin still didn’t (doesn’t) understand danger, drowning and knowing when to stop going out too far into the water before he doesn’t touch anymore.
I was 7-8 months pregnant with Jaxson and told my (then) husband to keep an eye on him.

Long story short, he ended up going down the beach pretty far so it was hard to tell how far out he was, and he ended up to the point he couldn’t touch.

I got to him in time, swore I was going to die trying to bring him back in, to the point where “I” could touch.
I did though, and I’ve never let them farther than 10-20 feet away from me at the beach again.

But weeks after that incident… every time I closed my eyes, I would see Justin’s face. Crying out to me to help him. Justin is nonverbal and couldn’t scream for help, but he was screaming for help in his own language. His face twisted in fear. When I reached him he clung to me for safety. Pulling me under.
My heart still pounds in my chest, my eyes well up with tears thinking about it and writing this out.

It was one of my worst nightmares coming to life.
One of my children dying… let alone right there in my arms.

I would close my eyes to go to sleep, and cry.
Sobbing into my pillow because I couldn’t get that image out of my head.
Resenting their father because he was the one supposed to be watching him.
If I hadn’t run to get Justin, when he said he was fine, he’d be dead.
And he’s sleeping soundly… no cause for worry or care or concern.

While I lay there, reliving my worst nightmare.
Night after night, day after day… Every time I closed my eyes. Or allowed my brain to rest.


Because for someone with an overactive imagination… you recreate it over and over in your head with perfect detail.

I have(had) friends on facebook who posted things I couldn’t deal with, and unfriended them.

Or they would be laughing about someone they didn’t know that was shared in their newsfeed… I’d look at those pictures or videos of people and also without knowing the backstory… and ask myself do those people KNOW they’re being recorded? Allowed this picture to be shared? How would they feel if they saw the things people were saying about them? I’d defend those people in the pictures or videos, and lose friends because I needed to “lighten up”.

Instead of understanding that I truly felt PAIN because of their words. Like it was happening to me.

And even more pain when they were being mean to me over something I can’t control feeling.
I’ve lost a lot of friends because of things like that.

Either because I learned to not defend people, and just block the ones who are hurting me… or by defending someone and leaving because people were mad at me for speaking up.

I can see things in a dark house that give me anxiety and fear because of scary movies I watched when I was little.
As soon as someone says “rape”, my brain is flooded with images of women being hurt. From watching shows like SVU or Criminal Minds who show and tell too much information.  
Eventually, I learned to stop watching things like that.
As interesting as the shows are, the brief moments where people or children are hurt, stick with me.

It’s not a pretty place to be… inside my head when I’m quiet and still.

So why am I telling you this?
Why should you care?

Because there are a lot of little kids out there, who were like me.
Who are sensitive and have overactive imaginations…
Who will carry those images they see on TV, in movies, in magazines, in books to their grave.
Reliving them when a word is brought up.

Does your child cry or get upset when another person/character is upset, crying, hurt or being picked on? Because that’s a sign you might have a sensitive child with an overactive imagination.

Keep those children safe.
(All children, honestly… but specifically those.)
From the world and from themselves.
Don’t show them scary movies, don’t let them watch shows and tv that isn’t age appropriate. Watch movies before you show them.

Because I can tell you from experience, you don’t want your sensitive child with an overactive imagination to have images like I do in my head.

That keep me awake at night…

Only being able to fall asleep without them by watching TV until I pass out.

Maybe had my Mom known, or understood what was happening to me…
that I wouldn’t be afraid of the dark at 28.
Seeing monsters in my room that aren’t really there… but are in my head.

Maybe had I known much earlier on in life what was really going on with me, I could have protected myself from the images I’ve got stuck in my head.

Tyler is my overly sensitive child.
And I will protect him for as long as I possibly can.
Because in this case, I don’t want him to be anything like me. ❤

Gender Specific toys make my eye twitch

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The other day, there was a house down the road having a yard sale.
I love yard sales.
Because my kids don’t always like to play with toys, so I like being able to find cheap toys to try out with them. If they don’t work out and the boys don’t like them, we put them in a bag and take them to Goodwill.

So I checked out this house’s yard sale, and it was all “girl” stuff.

But I’ve raised my kids without “gender specific” toys, so it didn’t matter to me.
I grabbed a barbie, a few little ponies, a baby doll, a little book, a hula hoop and this little princess wand and hat thing.
For $3! Couldn’t beat it.

I took them home, laid them all out on the couch and let the boys check them out.
I stuck the princess hat on Tyler and gave him the wand.

I smiled really big and said “How cute is he?!?!” to their Dad.
He kind of scoffed/laughed “That’s not even funny.”

I automatically got REALLY upset and defensive.

It goes to show that if you don’t spend a lot of time with someone, you grow apart and so do your priorities and ideals. Because we’ve had this talk before about gender specific.

“What? Because he’s wearing a hat and holding a wand? Because it’s pink? Because it’s a princess thing?? What’s “WRONG” with it??”

He didn’t say anything.

When are we going to stop limiting our children?
The biggest thing I hear is that BOYS shouldn’t play with GIRL stuff because they need to learn to grow up to be MEN.

Well ya know what… I’m honestly not too impressed with the male population.
(NOT all men… I’ve met some really amazing guys and some pretty crappy chicks – this is not an “all” group…)


But I would rather my boys grow up to be sensitive, understanding, compassionate MEN who have learned how to treat women, how to take care of THEIR children and how to over all not be an @$$hole.

Because there are a lot of “Men” out there who leave their families…. Don’t take care of their kids… leave ALL of the house work *couhh* “womens” *cough* jobs to the women… instead of being in a PARTNERSHIP with their spouse or significant other and only doing the “manly” jobs and roles.

But maybe… if girls were “allowed” to do the “boy” typical stuff… and the boys were “allowed” to do the “girl” typical stuff….
There would be better coping families out there.

That maybe women wouldn’t think they NEEDED a man in their lives and could become successful in their careers instead of ending up in a loveless relationship…

Or men could actually make their own food and do their own laundry, instead of going from living with mom to being with a woman because that’s what they’re supposed to do…. Before they’re really ready to make that commitment.

Maybe we’d have healthier families… that last…. That don’t end in divorce… that don’t end up with kids moving back and forth between their parents… who don’t end up feeling like it’s their fault.

Maybe we’ll have little girls… growing up to be engineers and scientists and men who are stay at home fathers or make up artists or bakers….

Women can still be women and men can still be men…. Without making them only use gender specific toys when they’re kids. Girls can wear blue and boys can wear pink. Girls can play with mud and trucks and boys can play with dolls and easy bake ovens.

That’s not going to magically turn them into the opposite sex.
Ya’ll know that’s not actually what’s happening right?

We’re expanding their imaginations.

Expanding their opportunities…

Expanding their worlds.

But by limiting what they can play with… limiting their choices, we’re telling them that they really can’t be whatever they want to be when they grow up… they can only be what society deems appropriate for their gender.

You can parent however you choose… they’re your children, and it’s your choice.
But me.
MY KIDS.
When I tell them that they can do anything in life.
If they are willing to fight for it… I’m not going to start limiting them to only “men” typical careers/jobs/opportunities.

PS: The boys didn’t even play with any of those toys except the hoola hoop and the baby doll.
But it was THEIR choice.
I didn’t force those toys onto them… but I didn’t also keep them from being able to make the choice to play with them.