You Can't Go Home Again

I recently finished "Grimoire Girl" by Hilarie Burton Morgan. It's not something I would usually read but I picked it up in hopes of getting into the Halloween spirit. However, the book pleasantly surprised me in a different way and tugged on my heartstrings until the last page.

One of the themes is the old phrase, "You can't go home again". Burton Morgan detailed the bittersweet emotions that she feels when she remembers her most cherished childhood memories. She described how melancholy she felt when she realized that she'll never be able to share those experiences with her children, though she's grateful to have experienced them at all. To Burton Morgan, home is not just a physical place. It's a string of treasured memories that create what she refers to as "the cornerstone of magic". 

Listening to her describe her memories of her oddly decorated house and a dad with an affinity for ghost stories made me think of the special memories that I accumulated in my own childhood home. The memories are still so potent and fresh; I swear I feel like they just happened yesterday.

Right now, I can picture myself playing on my backyard jungle gym with callouses on my palms. I smell my dad's teriyaki chicken on the grill while my sister and I ride our scooters on our back patio listening to our outdoor speaker blast 107.9. My sister and I steal kidney beans out of my mom's chili pot when she isn't looking. Rocks crunch underneath my bike tires while I ride down our white dirt road. My family's laughter bounces off the wall of our above ground pool as the water splashes over the sides. 

These memories live inside my sister and I. They are only ours and for that we are so lucky. Although Burton Morgan is right, I can't physically go back home again, it's okay. Those memories are still inside of me. They're imprinted on me and have helped turn me into the woman that I am today. Time has moved on and so have I but I'll never forget the home I was so blessed to grow up in and the love I was lucky enough to be surrounded by. 

It's easy to look back on life with rose-colored glasses and nostalgia and see only the positive things. Nobody's childhood is perfect but I promise you that regardless, mine was nothing short of magical. 

- Chelsea 

I'm a Person Too

During my therapy session 2 days ago, I discussed my people-pleasing nature. I told my therapist that I often get physically sick because of how much I let people cross my boundaries. I let people walk all over me like a literal doormat because I don’t want anyone to be unhappy with me, at the cost of my own mental health. I hate doing it but I can’t seem to stop. And she said to me, “Chelsea, you describe yourself as a people-pleaser but you’re forgetting that you’re a person too. You have to make yourself happy. You don’t owe that to anyone else.”

I’m a person, too. 

That simple sentence seemed so revolutionary. Why hadn’t I ever thought about it like that before? Is it because I see myself as less valuable than other people? Is it because when I was a child I repeatedly heard the phrase “I own you”, which made me then view myself as a piece of property? Why do I feel like it's my job to keep those around me happy? Why do I put a smile on my face when all I want to do is cry or scream?

Maybe I’ll never know. But what truly matters is that she was right. I haven’t been viewing myself as a person, much less a person whose opinions, desires and thoughts matter just as much as anyone else’s. No wonder I’m always struggling mentally. I have everything that I’ve ever wanted, a beautiful home, a husband, a wonderful child and a published book. But for some reason, I still lack the confidence and the ability to put up boundaries to protect myself from people that could harm me with their toxicity. 

I've often told myself that I put walls up around my heart to protect myself and my space. But as soon as someone would start to cross a boundary, they’d discover that those walls were paper thin. It took minimal effort to tear them down. And then I would resent myself for making the same mistakes again because I knew better. I knew that these people were bad for me. I knew that they'd cross my boundaries without a second thought. They weren't bad people but they were bad for me. But I would swallow it down again and again because I didn't want to I inconvenience anyone else.

I wasn’t giving myself half of the common decency and respect that I was giving others. I wasn’t viewing myself as a person. I made myself fit the mold of whatever anyone else wanted me to be. And in that process, I lost myself. I knew who I wanted to be but I never felt like I could actually become that version of myself.

The truth is that I've always been that person. She's always been there inside of me. I just wasn’t allowing her to come out. I felt like the people in my life weren’t allowing me to be her and for some reason, I thought that I needed their permission. But now I know that isn’t true. I'm a person too and the only person that I truly need to please is myself.

-Chelsea

Time of Our Lives Book Review

 After I had my son, I went through a pretty long reading slump. Despite my lifelong love of reading, I just couldn't find it in me to pick up a book, let alone finish one. I kept trying to push through and find a book that I loved, though. I didn't want to lose that part of myself but I was having trouble finding books that I connected with. 

But then I found some new booktubers on YouTube and got some really great recommendations (particularly Hailey in Bookland). Through finding those booktubers, I discovered so many wonderful books that I had never heard of. Suddenly, I was devouring books again and I rediscovered my love of reading. I started to feel like my old self again and I was so grateful not to have completely lost the part of me that loved to read. 

But of course, not every book is for everybody and I was going to eventually find a book that I didn't completely mesh with. Time of Our Lives by Emily Wibberly and Austin Siegmund-Broka was that book.

 

The premise was really interesting to me. The story is about Fitz and Juniper who are both complete opposites in personality and circumstance. Juniper was from a large family and wanted nothing more than to be on her own, as far away from her family's hold and influence as possible. She was confident, intelligent and focused. Fitz, on the other hand, had a mother who had the gene for early onset Alzheimer's and was crippled by his fear of the disease. He had seen his grandmother go through it and worried every day that his mother's memory would start slipping away. He felt like he had no support from his older brother about his mother's care and was socially withdrawn and anxious. He was determined to go to a school close to his mother so that he could care for her the second that she got sick. 

This story currently has a 3.6 out of 5 star rating on Goodreads, which normally would deter me from picking it up. Reading a book is a commitment; If I'm going to be spending hours of my time invested in a story, I want to know that it's going to be worth that time. But because I watched my own grandmother suffer with Alzheimer's, I felt a personal connection to this book and decided to pick it up anyway. Unfortunately, it was a minor part of the story, as his mother is barely in the book and when she is, it's during a phone call or text message exchange. 

The whole book takes place over about two weeks and the insta-love trope just isn't something that I can get behind. Fitz also goes through a complete personality change as soon as he meets Juniper. Almost all of a sudden, he goes from an awkward, self-conscious teenager that's barely even spoken to girls to being confident and flirtatious. While I know that people can change, it doesn't happen that quickly and I found that to be unbelievable. 

This book also lost points because Juniper had a boyfriend at the beginning of the book. Had I known that, I wouldn't have picked this book up. She never physically cheats on her boyfriend but she starts developing feelings for Fitz way too quickly. She claims to be in love with her boyfriend but he's easily forgotten about and she's barely heartbroken over their breakup. He was a great boyfriend and treated her well throughout his time in the story, so I felt bad for his character. 

Overall, I was just disappointed. This book touched on the complexity of familial relationships, which I appreciated but I wish that there was more discussion about Alzheimer's. I know that this writing duo has written many popular books together, so maybe I'll pick another one up one day. 

I gave this book a 2 out of 5 stars. Have you read this book? What are your thoughts?

-Chelsea 

Be Present

Yesterday, while I was outside pushing my son in his swing, my mind kept drifting. I kept thinking about all of the things that I needed to get done. I needed to go to the grocery store. I needed to fold laundry. I needed to unload the dishwasher. And who knows how long I was distracted by all of those thoughts before I was brought back to the present. 

And as my attention was brought back, I realized something: I was stealing my own joy. I was so preoccupied with whatever chores I needed to get done that I wasn't allowing myself to enjoy playing with my son. And that hurt my heart so much. 

Once my husband and I decided that we were ready to start trying for a baby, it was all that I could think about. All I wanted was to be pregnant. The thoughts were especially prevalent because I watched kids for a living. I couldn't wait until I was raising my own kids. So every month that passed when I wasn't pregnant brought me a lot of sorrow. I couldn't understand how I could want something so bad and it could elude me so easily. I wanted to be a mother more than anything in the world. 

And yet, yesterday, there I was, pushing my son in the swing and it was like I wasn't even there. These types of moments, where my son's laughter filled the air, were the moments that I was looking the most forward to when I dreamed of pregnancy. Yet my mind was elsewhere.

I'm currently living my dream. My husband and I just bought a house. I'm a published author. I'm able to send my son to a good school. I have a strong relationship with my family. I have everything that I wanted, especially my most important dream. I'm a mother but I have a tendency to not let myself enjoy it to the fullest. My joy and attention were being taken away from me with thoughts of life's most mundane moments. 

So as I snapped my attention back to the present moment, I told myself that I needed to stop and smell the roses. I needed to enjoy these moments to the fullest possible extent. These moments with my son mean more to me and will continue to mean more to me than anything else ever will. More than a clean house. More than folded laundry. More than anyone or anything. 

I realized that when my son is grown and I'm an empty nester, I won't ever reminisce about how much laundry I folded or how many dishes I washed when he was growing up. And neither will he. He'll remember riding his scooter on our back patio and swimming with his Paw Patrol pool toys. And I want him to remember me being there with him, soaking up every precious second that I had with him. And I want to remember these moments vividly, not through a haze because my mind wandered to my to-do list. 

People say all the time "don't blink because you'll wake up one day and your baby boy will be a man". I can honestly tell you that nothing would make me sadder than if I fell victim to this cliche and I missed my son growing up. I have what I wanted so desperately that I could barely stand it: a happy, healthy child. And yet I was wasting precious time with him over something as trivial as laundry. 

It's so easy to get caught up in what you think you "should" be doing. But I understand now that I'll always have laundry to do and dishes to wash. It's a fact of life. But what I won't always have is time, especially with my son being so little. He's only little for a little while. And I don't want to miss out on what I so desperately craved because life got in the way. Or rather, I let life get in the way. 

It's my choice how I spend my time and how I think. And I choose to be present. I choose to enjoy living the dream that at one point felt impossible. I choose to be a present mother rather than strive to be a "perfect" one. 

-Chelsea 

Learning to Let Go of My Anxiety

I haven't been shy when it comes to talking about my anxiety on this blog. It's a problem that I deal with every day and I've been working for years to try to overcome it. And for the first time in my life, I feel like I have somewhat of a handle on it. That's not to say that it's gone because it isn't. But I feel like I'm moving in the right direction and learning how to silence its voice.

My mother said to me earlier today that I sound a lot calmer than I used to and to be honest, I feel a lot calmer, too. My recent therapy sessions have helped me immensely but to be honest, I credit a lot of my progress to my son. A few weeks after I had him, I developed post partum depression. It only lasted a few weeks and it didn't progress as much as it does for some women (thankfully). But during the first few months of my son's life, I didn't get to experience the constant joy and euphoria that women often describe after giving birth. I loved my son and I loved being with him. I was so happy to have him and so happy to be his mother. But I couldn't shake the feelings of sadness, hopelessness and shame that I felt.

During many of his naps, I would sob and berate myself for not "snapping out of it". I was in a rut and over time, those feelings subsided. At first, I was embarrassed for being so emotional and eventually that turned into sadness because I realized how many moments of happiness that depression took from me. Now, when I look back on my son's first few months, I won't only remember his first smile or first laugh. I'll remember the sadness that consumed me, as well as the joy.

Once I recovered and realized just what was taken from me, I realized that I also didn't want anxiety to take anything else from me. Anxiety has caused me so much heartache over the years and I've lost countless hours of my life worrying about things that never happened. Having my son has shown me not only how beautiful life is but how quickly it goes by. And even though I've always wanted to get rid of my anxiety, I've never wanted it more. When I look back on his childhood, I don't want to remember panic attacks and endless worrying. I want to remember being present in every moment and letting go of any needless worries. I want to remember happiness, not anxiety. So I'm not only doing this for me. I'm doing this for my son, too.

That's not to say that it will be easy but I'll take it one step at a time. I believe that it's possible to live in a world where anxiety isn't pulling my puppet strings. I once told my therapist that I feel like anxiety is holding me prisoner in my own mind. She told me, "Chelsea, you might be in a prison. But you're not the prisoner. You're the warden and you have the key. You have the power to unlock the door and let yourself out." Those words have stuck with me and every day, as I work harder on conquering my anxiety, I get one step closer to the door.

Whenever I feel like my anxiety is forcing me to do something that I don't want to do, my mother asks me, "Don't you just want to be happy?" It's amazing how simple statements can have a profound impact on you. I do want to be happy. I really do. And my anxiety not only hasn't allowed me to be happy but it's told me that I don't deserve to be happy. But that's not true. I do, just as much as anyone else. I realize that anxiety can be crippling and at times and you might feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. But I promise you, you have the strength inside of you to come out on top. Therapy has helped me immensely. It's given me the tools to fight back, when before I was unarmed. The journey doesn't happen overnight and I'm still on it. But when the destination is happiness and a life without anxiety, it is worth every second.

My anxiety has been with me for so long that it almost feels like it's just part of my personality. I often have to remind myself that it's not. It's not part of me; it's just something that I live with. During this past year, I've really come to know and love myself. And one thing that I've learned is that I'm not my anxiety and my anxiety doesn't define me. I have so much life ahead of me and the knowledge that anxiety doesn't have to be a part of it is comforting and freeing. And I can't wait to see who I become without it. One day, when someone asks how I'm doing, I'll be able to say "happy" instead of "anxious" and that knowledge keeps me going.

Forgiveness

Being humiliated, embarrassed, taken advantage of and wronged by other people gives us a lot of time for self-reflection. We think about how we could've handled everything differently and how we should've seen the warning signs. Or we think about how much we hate the people that did this to us. But trust me, as tempting as it is, hating someone isn't worth your time or energy. Life is too short to focus on the bad experiences that come into our paths. 

When I'm scrolling through social media, I see a lot of posts saying things like, "I hate people" or "I'm never leaving my house again because people are out there". Seeing things like this dishearten me. Yes, there are bad people in the world and some people will treat you poorly. But I can also promise you that those same people can be you best teachers. And I speak from experience when I say these things. It's unrealistic to think that you'll live a perfect life with little conflict or trouble. But it's not unrealistic to learn from those experiences and come out a stronger, more positive person. 

I've had to learn the hard way that forgiveness is for yourself, not the other person. The person that hurt you is out there living their life, not thinking about you, while you're wallowing in what they've done. It simply isn't worth it. I've had to work through a lot and go through a lot of therapy to forgive the people that have deeply hurt me. But it's been incredibly freeing and uplifting. Don't misunderstand me though, forgiving someone doesn't mean that you think that what they did was okay; it just means that you're not going to let their behavior hang over your head every day, affecting your life. You deserve to be happy and to have that weight lifted off your shoulders. 

I used to be a very unforgiving person and I held a lot of grudges. I didn't give second chances and I thought the world was a dark place. But as I've gotten older, I've found so much light and positivity in the world that most people don't see because they're not looking for it. Life is hard for everyone, of course, but we don't need to make it even harder on ourselves by holding onto grudges or negativity. We're not born all-knowing or indestructible. We hurt, we bleed, we get embarrassed and we suffer at the hands of others. But more importantly, we learn, we grow stronger, we find happiness and we love. All of your problems won't fade away simply by learning to forgive or love but harnessing those things will make it so much easier for you to focus on living your best life and maximizing your potential happiness. 

We can't grow without discomfort or pain. Our comfort zones can only protect us from so much. We can't control the actions of others but we can control how we react. I'll be the first to admit that learning to accept life's hardships or what was done to me by others wasn't always done with grace. But it's something that I'm embracing and working on every day. As cliché s it might sound, you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice that you have. You'll be amazed by the amount of strength and resilience that's inside of you once you've been pushed. So... 

To the friends that faded away once I announced my pregnancy

To the people who've repeatedly lied to my face

To the people who've taken advantage of my generosity

To the people that made me feel less than worthy

To the people that pretended to be my friends 

I'm grateful for you all. Without you, I wouldn't have become the person that I am today. I wouldn't have shifted my focus towards forgiveness and positivity. I wouldn't have learned just how much I'm capable of. If I hadn't cried those tears or healed those scars, I wouldn't have been able to see the beauty that comes from pain. I wouldn't have pushed myself to become a better version of myself. So thank you. Thank you for teaching me that I deserve better. I now know that and better yet, I forgive you. 

-Chelsea 

Would My 14-Year-Old Self Be Proud of Me?

Earlier today, I was catching up on my podcasts and decided to listen to Dax Shephard's interview with Kal Penn. During the interview, they posed the question, "Would your 14-year-old self be proud of you?" And ever since they said it, the question has been floating around in my mind.

When I was growing up, I had a very clear vision of what I wanted my life to become. I wanted to go to college, get married, have kids young and publish a book. At 26 years old now, I can say that I've done all of those things. So, from that standpoint, I think that my 14-year-old self would be very proud of me. I checked all of the boxes and did everything that I wanted to do.

But I don't think that those things are what 14-year-old me would be the most proud of. If I'm being honest, when I was younger, I had a very negative view of the world. I thought that life was something that I just had to "get through" and I was often called a pessimist. I didn't see everything that I was missing out on and I held onto a lot of traits that ended up being toxic to me in the long run. I was a good person but I wasn't the best version of myself. But I'm working on being that person every single day.

When I was 19 years old, I started seeing a therapist that I absolutely loved. I still go in for a session every now and again and I feel better every time. I'm putting the time and effort into learning about myself and how to overcome my negative traits or thoughts through books, lectures, research and inspirational podcasts. I'm doing my best to see positivity in the world and to leave the world a better place than when I got here. I wrote a book where I allowed myself to be truly vulnerable for the first time in an effort to help anyone that reads it connect to it and hopefully feel a little better about themselves. I'm trying to be the best mother that I can be and set the best example possible for my son. When something terrible happens to me or someone hurts me, I don't hold onto the resentment anymore. I try to practice empathy and look at things from the other perspective. I don't allow myself to play the victim or dramatize scenarios to try to extract sympathy from others. I've put up boundaries to protect myself from people that don't have good intentions for me. And I'm no longer settling in friendships because I learned the hard way that you are the company you keep.

Am I proud of all that I've accomplished? Of course. When I look at the family and life that I've created for myself, how could I not be? When I hold my college degree or my book, how can I not beam with pride? I worked hard for them and I deserve them. But if you asked me what I'm the most proud of myself for, it's the fact that I've grown. In the last few years alone, since I've opened myself up to change and growth, I've become a much happier person. I'm learning to let go of toxic traits and learning that my happiness is just as important as anyone else's. I've learned my triggers and searched deep within myself to try to understand who I am and why I feel the way I do. I'm trying to learn these lessons young to save myself years of toxicity or misery down the road. I can't go back and change the past. I can't give myself the chance to learn these lessons earlier. I can't make life easier for my younger self. But what I can do is make life easier for my current and future self. What I can do is be who I wish I was when I was 14 and strive to make that girl proud every single day.

So, would my 14-year-old self be proud of me? Absolutely. But what's even more important to me is that 26-year-old me is proud of me, too.

-Chelsea