Mom, I Am

I’m a single Mom. I’m an artist: acrylic on canvas and walls, ink drawings, back of my van painting, jewelry making, cake decorating, drumming. An Octopus Artist if you will. I am a crafter: paper books and scrapbooking. I am an avid reader; the self-help section is my favorite. I’ve been described as “unique” most of my life. I take that to mean that I live my truth with not much regard to what others think about me. That’s one of my favorite things about me and has been hugely challenging from the start.

I’m an alcoholic and have been dry since April 10, 2007. I did not hit rock bottom before I figured out I had a problem. I had a pretty screwed up, normal childhood. I have an exceptional former spouse, oozing with paradox in my life. I believe fully in the paradox of life, which I feel is quite prevalent in the blogs about emotion I plan on posting.

I try to be very intentional about my language. I don’t care for the term “ex” or “ex-husband”. I try not to use the words “should,” “hate,” “stupid,” or “but.” I prefer not to judge things good or bad . . . things “are” in my opinion. If I say there are good children, then I feel as if I am insinuating there are bad children somewhere out there. I haven’t found one “bad” child ever and I’ve been around my fair share of children.

I talk a lot. I laugh a lot. I cry a whole lot too. I have been on an avid heart-centered journey since about 2003, finding out about myself, my truth, and how I fit into this beautifully, tragically wonderful world. And I have an Aspie. A high-need child. He started out high-need from the day he was born. Not transferring from a car seat without screaming his head off, rendering me a wee bit insane from the second day. I turned into a Mother Warrior pretty quickly from the submissive woman I had previously been. An Aspie will do that for you and to you. When I finally felt like I had figured out which way was what, I knew I had something special that left me confused, baffled, completely lost, furious beyond belief, loyal beyond imagination, and completely in love . . . indescribable love for this child o’ mine.

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