Fuck The Shackles

        I think when I write there are times I have to remind myself, I'm in control. That what I write is my own right. My feelings. My story. That I'm not obligated to think about anyone else's emotions but my own. And yet the biggest contradiction is also, that there is one person's emotions I do need to consider. This Blog has been very freeing for me and I have used it as a form of therapy. Since creating this space I have spent a lot of time discussing my dating woes, and my experience with grief. Although, a big reason why I created this blog is to free myself from my own thoughts, talk about hard subjects, learn to love the body I'm in, forgiving myself for past mistakes, continue growing and navigating getting to know myself better as a Mom and as a person all on my own. And if I'm lucky help someone feel not so alone.  And while all those are very incredible accolades to have; the heart of this blog is actually found in it's title, "Narrated advice from a Habitual Overthinking Single Mom." Which despite the title I have yet to introduce you to my son. His name is, "Cayden Miguel", Miguel after my Father; and he is 7 years old and growing way to fast before me.. He is the most sweet, stubborn, loving and determined boy. He has my heart and everyday with him has made me kinder and also tested my patience and understanding. When I decided to begin this journey my main goal was to be able to become the most authentic and healthiest form of myself for not only myself, but for him as well. I wanted to be able to talk about really hard subjects and struggles I have had in Mommy-Hood. And I have found in writing each blog that it has allowed me to grow and free myself from things that I have struggled with over the years. Or given me tools to help me with the things I do still struggle with. I have learned that I have a voice and am still learning how to remember how to use it. That why I'm a Mom, I'm also a woman all on my own and it is fine to be both. That I can have 2 parts of me and am still whole. That one does not cancel out the other in this instance. That there is no guilt in either of my roles. Getting back to the reason for this blog at hand I realized that a huge reason that I have not introduced my son is my fear that has been with me for over 7 years now.... Shackled, I have been shackled for 7 years and today is the day I begin to unchain not only myself, but my son. Because we deserve to be free. He deserves to have a Mom that doesn't live with unhealed parts of herself. And I deserve to be a Woman with a clear heart. A Mom who is always carefully wording how he came to be. When all I want is to talk about all that we have overcame and grown through together. Dodging questions from anyone who dared ask or giving half ass explanations. But wanting to say everything. And the truth is, I owe no one anything. I owe no one an explanation, but in the same I also have allowed myself to become enchained in a Secret-Not- so- Secret. There are chapters of everyone's books that are left unread, mine included. Hell, really torn to pieces and as I write this my hands are shaky.  But for me, I don't want them to be. Because until I unpack all that has traveled with me, detail every experience I have lived through, uncovered all the bandages, heal from the inside out I will remain a walking vision of yesterdays past. This does not disregard my progress or take away from who I have grown into. Nor does it discredit all the work that I have put in thus far. Rather this is my backstory. Correction! This is our backstory. This is me ripping the chains from the wall. This is me baring all. This is me freeing us. And if for some reason you find yourself feeling not so alone after reading this, then that is a bonus! If I can help one person with my journey as a woman, and as a Mom then that is an incredible gift. Because I want to be brave, I want to heal, I want to grow! But most of all I want to show my son the strength in owning your story. That having courage and using your voice has power. So here is me opening the can of worms, here is me, here is us rising.

        When I think about High School, I think about all the clicks. The grouping of people who just fell together and those who just stood out. And I cringe to realize that I was a sad floater. Just floating around trying to find her place anywhere or way she could. And for the most part is was easy because I'm funny. My humor is second nature to me. It's easy, and maybe I'm just a sentimentalist... but there is no greater feeling then hearing laughter and seeing those fast flash smiles in between the tears and cackles. I had a lot of teen angst phases, but no matter what Humor was my gold. And do you know that one thing that  remained through all my phases? My underlying want to be chosen, to be liked, to be loved. So like some kids searching for any form of acceptance and love I fell into church. I had been going there for years, but ya know one church retreat changes ya.  I know Shocking right?! Well, believe it or not I basically lived there.... Not that I didn't have a home, I just was really drawn to it and the Junior Ministry.  I would help out with the band, volunteer for Bible School, and for the first time in my life I felt like I had actual friends. And if you haven't figured out yet, I am an Empath, so my damn tendencies were thriving. Because it is encouraged to be like Jesus and serve people with an open heart. I have always been aware I'm flawed, so the idea that someone could love me in all my imperfect ways was medicine to the wound that I had. But ya know what they don't tell you? That sometimes that medicine, or those tendencies can really backfire or poison you if you misguidedly use them. I'm going to let you know something about teens or the youth, Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is better than after church or practice hitting up a food joint. Maybe it was us being young, maybe it was not realizing the affects of Heartburn, or maybe it was optimistically believing our bowls could endure war... but on this night in particular a chance meeting would start the beginning of our story. 

        Order 35! I don't know about you, but those words on an empty stomach are like Angel's parasailing down from Heaven!  There had been this murmur for weeks about a guy at this restaurant whom had an accent. Of course with that came weeks of hearing girls fawn over a mans voice...Well, anyways at this time I did not have the fanciest of things. My phone was broken and the only way I could hear was if I put in on speaker. Trying to hear over a group of hungry teens is impossible, so to the bathroom I went! Which now looking back I question myself, why would I not have went outside? Like why would you go into the foreshadowing of stomachs past. My Mom always had a way of calling at the most inconvenient of times. (Side Note: She still does lol) I heard my friends fawning and my guy friends excitedly talking, but I had a call to take so off to the bathroom I went! On my way there, I noticed a guy staring at me. I'm going to let you guys in on a secret, I have the hardest time with eye contact, because I feel like people can see your soul and it makes you vulnerable. Which is a contradiction, because I was vulnerable no matter if I did or didn't. And I'm going to tell you something very unpleasant and unhealthy about me, I have this ungodly urge to Love people. And I don't mean like, "Oh that's so funny that's why I love you," I mean I will love people and be there for them even when they are shitty. It is a character flaw, and ya girl is working on it. I mean look I'm doing it right now! After I finished up my call I went back out and it was time to go. I put this night behind me until a Facebook page circulated with this so called man with an accent. I visited it, and wouldn't you know, it was him, the guy that was staring at me. 

        Innocent moves, or motive. But in reality it wasn't. Just a very insecure girl looking for a fill. When I found that page I mustered up the courage to message him. I also turned my first blind eye. You ever heard about Red Flags? Well my blind optimism, my holier than thou persona hell bent on changing someone for the better had a way of falling into delusions. There were people on that page commenting about how he was a fake! The Accent wasn't real! He would combat against them and I would tie on my dunce hat. Because here I was ready to believe whatever he said. Convinced that they were just jealous.  We talked back and fourth for days and soon enough we planned our first date. It is important for me to explain this next part very accurately as to this is something some will strongly disagree with. Or past judgment to those who do not deserve it. I was 16, and he was 21. However, I was roughly a few months from being 17. I dated him until I was 18 and he was 22. Roughly a year and a half altogether. Old Soul, it is something that I have always been called. And while some would say that it means my soul is timeless, others would say that he was a predator, some would blame my parents but, the reality is that I would of made the decision regardless. That at that time in my life I thought I knew best. I have faced quite a few things and I grew up a little bit quicker than I should of. And while I could be bitter... HELL! I could be angry, I'm not. If anything it made me wiser. In this instance also what I went through and am about to go through has made me far kinder and more compassionate. So I say that even though I'm about to walk you through one of the hardest parts of my story. That I am also about to tell you some of the lessons I learned. The strength and courage I have gained. And how my kindness has grown. Now the reason I felt it important to address that is that while I was 16, I was mature for my age. And I'm aware that people will disagree. People will say those are baiting words. But I was. For anyone that knows me now or ever would tell you that when I speak I have lived many lives. Experienced a lot and it has aged me. I was academically talented and involved regularly in church. I had a purity ring and a Hollier than thou ego the size of the moon. Boys may have been a thought, but never an action. I didn't really talk about boys with my parents. So when I brought one up to my parents they didn't really think much of it...until I told them his age. There were questions, but me being me I used the fact that I was obedient and trustworthy. Pleaded my case like I was a damn lawyer! Practically highlight reeled all my good deeds and  and eventually they caved. As soon as I got the green light, we planned our date. Within a few days before it was to happen I was talking with my parents and this is something I hold a lot of remorse for. My sister intervened and made a comment. And instead of actually listening... I berated her. So bitter and angry that she would try to snub me! My sister has had a colorful life. She has always been a free spirit in most rights. And deep down is was me being resentful. Not realizing that she was about to give me another red flag. She heard me say his name and instantly knew who it was. Exclaiming that he had messaged her first for relations. It angered me because I felt like for once I had a guy who wanted me, and she was jealous. I'm ashamed of this; the way I treated her, the ugly words I used. I can't take it back. I dismissed her and right then is when I slipped on a pair of blinders. (So Jenny, I'm sorry. I was a dick, and you did not deserve the things I said. Not that you're looking for this, but You were right.) The day came, and he was going to come over and we were going to take my little sister to the park. And although this is a really deep story, there was humor in that day. He called me and told me that he had rang my doorbell. The humor you may ask... I had no doorbell. To his horror, he quickly raced back to his car. Eventually he got to my house and the moment he stepped out of the car, I was swooning over him. How could a guy like that, ever look at a girl like me and want me? I look back and think of this moment and at first I wanted to beat my own ass, but now I wish I could go back, hug her and tell her she was more than worthy of love, and it was never going to come from him, or anyone else but herself. 

        Dates, they are suppose to be memorable right? Well, at least your first one... We went to the park that day with my little sister and boy did we get an eye full. I shit you not there were two middle aged people getting it on top of a blanket. So fair to say we turned back around and that was the end of that. The rest of our date was spent in my room talking on my futon and laughing. It ended with a kiss. I felt like I was on cloud 9. He would come over the next day too, and he seemed to make a good impression with my parents. We decided to give the park another go, well it was also another no. Because the middle age couple was back and had now moved to the picnic tables. It was just a handsy make out session, but I wasn't going to wait for the finale. So back to my house we went. This went on for a couple of weeks. Innocent little hangouts and goodnight kisses. Then one night we decided to head to the movies, he took me to the Dollar Show to see, "Zookeeper." It was a cute movie and the night seemed to go well.  He even held my hand, and you could not tell me nothing. This had to be what it was like to have someone actually see me, right? I slowly started to not be as present at church. Maybe just missing a day here and there. Wanting to squeeze in anytime he had for me. Not noticing that when I would ask him to join me at church, or at friend outings there was always an excuse. And with the excuse came little remarks. Criticizing my Church and glorifying his ideologies. Finally, we decided to hangout at his place. On the way there he held my hand. I complained about my back that day, it was sore. (For those of you that do not know, I am like a lady Hercules. It is what my family calls me because I can lift very heavy things or rather force myself to. I think it was all the Feminist in me wanting to prove I could do everything if not better than my brothers.) Okay, back to the story... So he offered to give me a massage when we got there. When we arrived he actually hit me with Red Flag Number 2. I want to scream at myself for dismissing this. He turned to me and told me his roommate was moving out and things had gotten toxic between them. That his roommate was out for revenge. So if he asked me my age, to lie. I thought it was strange, but then again I just chalked it up to there being bad blood and wanting to make him look bad. So I did. We went to his room and were watching a movie. Things were going great and then he gave me a massage. Still harmless... until I felt the prick. He was aroused, and soon enough a make out session would ensue. A mixture of a teenage girls hormones and a mans urges. With a slip of a hand I got my first taste of what I assumed it was like to be wanted.  Followed by a tip that wasn't suppose to go any further, but soon enough everything took it's course. I went home and didn't think to much of it. I had plans with my Church friends and this is where my innocence's or rather stupidity really shines. When learning about puberty my Mom had told me about her first experience, and how it was painful. She told me that the little skin between your thumb and index finger and how it was the thickness of your virginity and that you would bleed. Well I didn't bleed, so I assumed I was still a virgin. That I had in fact not had sex. That if anything it was just fourplay I guess. Well I went to the bathroom before I left and there was a little blood, but me being dumb assumed I had started my period. I went out with friends to Walmart of all places, because what else is there really to do for teens after 9 p.m. On the way there I was explaining to my friend Steve about the events and when we arrived at Walmart he explained that I in fact had sex. Panicked does not even cover what I went through. I was scared shitless at what I was going to tell my Mom. Mad at him and myself for now loosing the one thing I wanted to save for marriage. After Walmart we headed home and when I heard that car door slam behind me... my stomach was in my ass. Putting the key in the door was the hardest thing to do my hands were shaking. Once inside, I walked to my Mom's room. I knelt beside her bed and told her, "Mom I think I had sex." Mind you it was 12 pm by then. Her eyes shakily opened out of her sleep and asked, "Did you wear a condom?" My eyes widened and I said, "No", to then receive her response, "Should I smack you now?" We talked for a little more and then she said we would discuss more in the morning. The night ended with me texting him and receiving the response, "Sorry," and making a little joke out of it. Following it up by sweet words and then a shady sentiment of free backrubs. I look back at this night and realize that in it a very hard journey was about to begin. This was the starting point, the intensification of every insecurity and nightmare wrapped in a clear complexion, a chiseled face, all behind a false façade. 

        Writing this has been hard, and honestly most days even looking at this computer is unbearable. Because I set a time clock for myself to write about this. Which is my own fault. But not in my late delivery of this blog, but in my ignorance. For me not remembering that all wounds heal differently. That sometimes when you finally decide to talk about tough things that old fears do emerge. And that you're so strong in actually facing them. That you have to stop being so hard on yourself. That you slay your own dragons in your own time and that is more than okay! So here is me reminding myself that I'm doing the damn thing! I'm doing the work! I'm addressing my fears and that is BRAVE! And by me doing this, I'm showing my son to be Brave! So this is Part 1 of my story, and it may take me a minute more to do Part 2, but this is Brave. This is Growing. This is Healing. But most all this is Freeing.