If you’ve been following along with my story, I seem to know how to pick them. Some would say I pick them, fix them, and send them on their way..
A fixer of broken boys.
Others would say I’m broken.
For the record I’m not a fan of that word. Broken.
I absolutely can not tolerate people who hold their past as excuses to be horrible.
“you don’t understand… this happened…”
Actually I do and then some.
Here’s the truth. Without all theses chapters I would not have the love of my life. She’s eleven. She’s perfect and while I am not… perfect, she makes me feel like I am about eighty percent of the time.
I considered wrapping this up neatly. Giving you the happy ending I teased in an earlier chapter. But that’s not the truth. Life is messy. Things have been hard. Dating as a single Mom is no joke. Dating as a single Mom who has been through some stuff,well… I recognize I can be a challenge. For a moment I want to acknowledge that some of this is hard to read, it’s hard to write…but it’s mine and you know what?
I’m here. I have walls. I hold my breath. I don’t always see what others do. But I’m here. My feet are planted firmly and I’m determined to show my daughter that you can be loved for who you are. That even when not so great stuff happens you can get through it. You can. Maybe the path there may not be very straight but it CAN be done.
Which leads me to my now…
I’m treading lightly here because it’s so incredibly precious to me. As I’m wrapping up my forties a switch has been turned on. I have finally realized it is ok to want hand holding, mushy, compromise, quiet days, ruckus nights,if someone loves you they won’t judge what you want or who you are, but rather rebel yell for you.
They will go to Target when they’d rather be at a record store.
They will ask about your daughter.
They will ask you about your day.
Text you in the morning.
Send you a song
Let you send them a Dad joke
Hold your hand
Remind you they are there for you and keep doing so even when you try to push them away.
I’m crying as I type this because… let’s just say what’s mine is mine is mine and if I tell you it’s less mine… but it’s mine.
It’s messy and it may not work for you, but isn’t that life?
Life is messy! Who wants perfect? I will take messy and happy any day.
I’m finding out I don’t need to fix broken boys anymore…
The boys weren’t broken and neither was I. I just didn’t see who I was. I finally do.
I am a Mom. A friend A sister. An aunt. A daughter. A teacher. A shoe hoarder. A nerd. A pink haired, tattooed middle aged punk lady who still crushes on Henry Rollins. And that is more than ok… it’s kinda perfect.
Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date