When your dream is to write, how do you get around to writing about things that aren’t related to writing? Sometimes I feel like I am not writing enough and lately my frustration and emotions have gotten the best of me.
Blogging has always been one of my favorite things to do and the amount of time I dedicate to it has dwindled down to nothing. I don’t write to be heard, I write to feel through every emotion, thought and frustration that lingers in my body. I no longer can tolerate keeping things in. Writing is a release and for some time now I have been confined to myself. I find that my writing and my life goes best when I am the most honest.
There is a common misconception about honesty, and that is that it has to hurt. I disagree, I believe the dishonesty packs a harder and more painful punch than the truth. . .with that being said, here goes.
2013 wasn’t a bad year, it just wasn’t the year I really set out for myself. For the first time in a long time I allowed myself to be lazy. However, lazy isn’t something I do well. I didn’t invest as much time in my health as I could. . .all because I invested my time in less than ideal things. I fed into people and their negativity. I found reasons to be lazy, I found reasons to be negative, I made exceptions and I met excuses with acceptance and dressed them up as reasons.
2014 is a huge year for me. I will be 30, which in all honesty is just a few candles on a cake, the aging doesn’t mean much to me. The milestone that will accompany my birthday month is what makes it all worth it. This is the year I become a first generation college graduate and it is an incredible and overwhelming feeling. 2013 was a stepping stone toward progress in this goal but the completion of it is going to feel like such a sweet victory for just and average “Jo,” from Tampa Florida.
Going to school and taking care of my son has never been more important to me. Every day that goes by I realize that my son grows an inch taller and years further away from the little boy born 12 years ago. I look at him and it amazes me how incredible he is. When I look at my son at times I wonder, “Did I do that?” We are by nature our own worse critics and even when things are marvelous the negatives burden us with the magnitude of their weight. Why is happiness so dense and sadness like the weight of the world? When things do not go as well as I would like, I question how well I have truly done.
A couple of months ago I faced some challenges. I allowed my personal life to affect my parenting all because I wanted to save face. I didn’t listen to my son and things turned out sour. That experience is behind us and even though I feel as though I lost a nice pair of friends, I believe it was ultimately for the best. I learned from that experience and I realized that I have to advocate more for my son. He does not have to toughen up, he does not have to be a man. I know I will not be around forever but while I am, I am going to make sure I am front and center when my son needs me.
In the past year my son has been bullied and treated terribly by not only peers, but by some members of his family. On occasion I have attempted to address the issues but I was met with resistance. I have no intentions of exploring the option of mediating among other parents and children. I cannot change people, but I can do my best to show my son what really matters; his perception of his self. I used to try to talk things through but I realized that sharing your child’s weaknesses sometimes harnesses the opportunities for people to use them to build a case against them. If a child lies once, some people stick to that and run with it. My son comes home sometimes crying because he has been called a faggot by someone who is supposed to be family. When asked if they are my son’s cousins, they reply with an eye roll. My son is noones puppet for popularity. Children lately use more profanity and vulgar language than I ever knew possible at their age. I hear children calling one another bitches and hoes, and faggots. I can’t believe the types of things coming out of their mouths. Children like this are the reason why my son cries on a weekly basis and I will not allow it. Perhaps this is my own vendetta because I didn’t feel heard as a child, but I will not allow my son to go on any further without a voice. Children need to learn that good grades mean nothing when you have a rotten spirit. You have to teach your kids to be good people as well as smart people. My son is my life, and I will no longer allow my life to be messed with.