"You're so sensitive."
Three little words I've heard over and over again throughout my life. In Kindergarten I cried every time the teacher reprimanded the class because I thought she was surely talking directly to me. Kids in school said I didn't know how to take a joke. Boyfriends accused me of being overly sensitive when we fought. Believe me, I've been told on way more than one occasion that I need to lighten up or toughen up.
Do something to stop being "too much"--too sensitive, too anxious, too nice.
I spent thirty-some years being ashamed of my sensitive nature, trying to put on a front that things didn't really bother me when they did, acting as if I had a thick skin when I didn't, pretending jokes rolled off my back when they stuck to me like glue.
She was my 4th grade teacher and one of my all-time favorites--a bubbly, brunette, thirty-something woman with dimples that made learning fun and always wore the cutest high heels that perfectly matched her dress. She handed out Star Student certificates every Friday, signed in perfect cursive, to students who showed good behavior and boy, did I aim to please. That was my main goal at 9 years old really--to gain friends and the teacher's favor by laying low and being good at all costs. I was conscientious, polite, and on-task ALWAYS—a model student.
Until one day, when I made an uncharacteristically bad choice: when I thought no one was looking, I took a Sharpie to the head cheerleader’s jacket.
I've never cared for small talk.
Small talk in the dentist's chair is even worse.
"So where do you work?"
"Where do you live?"
"Do you have kids?"
Meanwhile, I'm thinking the answers and then spitting them out in between suctions. Lovely conversational flow.
This is one of my favorite pieces of wisdom because I’ve found it to be so true in my own life. Any problem I've stuffed down, pushed aside, or ignored, only came back stronger until I dealt with it.
The "escalating whispers" in my life have come in many forms over the years, but one I continued to ignore most was the call of vulnerability — to allow the world to see me as I was, the real me, flaws & all. I spent most of my life having only surface-level friendships but very few close friends...and never really a best friend because the criteria for being someone’s BEST friend is intimacy.
Pregnancy loss is one of those events that makes you feel as if the world as you know it is forever changed in an instant. In that single moment, all the dreams and hopes you had for that baby and your life together as a family are suddenly gone. Like any other life-changing event, you begin to mark everything else that happens in your life in relation to when the loss occurred--there's the life you had before the miscarriage and the new life you've had since because, in some ways, you're a different person than you were before. Those differences may not be obvious to other people, but on the inside you feel the shift. Your thoughts, feelings, and the way you view life itself is forever changed.
This is such an unreal post to write. I still can't wrap my head around how it's possible to be told you have a perfectly healthy baby at 13 weeks, who showed no signs of issues on the genetic screening test and was moving around like crazy in front of us on the ultrasound screen, to being told your baby has no heartbeat at the 17 week visit. There's nothing that prepares you for the grief of being blindsided by that. All I could do was writhe on the table screaming out in shock, disbelief, and pain as I watched a second doctor look at me with sympathy in her eyes and shake her head "no", confirming my nightmare was real. I wanted to crawl out of my skin, run out the room, catch my breath again, take the last five minutes of my life back. As I sit here five days later I've accepted he's gone, but I'm nowhere near a place where I can understand why. And I realize that day may never come.
I'm Krissy & I'm so thankful you're here. Being a woman, a wife, a mother--it's all rewarding but also tough. I hope this is a place you can go that feels like caffeine for the soul. Check out the categories below and, if you like what you read, subscribe to make sure you always have good Sunday morning reading to go with your coffee :)