Dear Mam-maw

Dear Mam-maw,

I told myself to write this letter before now, but I thought I had more time (or at least I tricked myself into believing that). And sometimes it's hard to find all the right words at the right time. I'm not making excuses, just explaining myself and hoping you understand.

When I was three, we came to visit you in Oregon at Dot's house. For years I would bring up playing an organ in Oregon, and to this day I remember playing with the adding machine. I just loved the way the buttons clicked and the sounds it made while it printed out nonsensical figures. That's my first memory with you, but thankfully not the last.

I remember visiting you in Sun Prairie. In Wausau. All over Wisconsin. No matter where you lived, you had a room for me, and I remember picking toys to keep at your place so I'd always have something to do. Among the things I kept at your place was "The Giving Tree" - a book I liked at the time, but wouldn't grow to appreciate until I was older.

You traveled with us to Mississippi to see my uncle and cousins, and then Grandpa Chuck. I remember my parents explaining that you two loved each other very much, but you just couldn't be married. I was six, and while it didn't make sense at the time, I accepted it. You were an independent woman, and always encouraged me to be the same.

You confided in me more than once that you were afraid you hadn't been a good mother. And I know I always told you that of course you were. My dad loves you with all his heart, and you did an amazing job raising him on your own. But what I might have forgotten to say is that you were also an incredible grandmother. Were you always around? No. You moved a lot, and sometimes it would be a few years before I'd see you again. But I always knew you were out there, and if I had needed you, you would've been there for me.

You were always my biggest advocate. When I dropped out of college at 20, you told me that college wasn't for everyone! You insisted that I'd find my own path, and that I'd do great things. When I decided to go back to school, you told me how proud you were and that I could do whatever I set forth to do. And both times, you meant it. You weren't just pandering to me, telling me what I wanted to hear. You truly believed in me. When it felt like everyone else was disappointed or skeptical, you supported me. I probably never said so, but that meant more to me than just about anything else.

I have so many memories of you, and stories are flooding my mind so quickly I'm almost drowning in them. In a good way, though. They're warm and loving and beautiful. They feel like your hugs; a little too tight, as if you're holding on for fear of losing me, except I'm the one holding too tightly now. I want to settle into them, to find the comfort and support I always got from you. And I will. Just not right now. Right now, the only comfort I can find is that you've found peace.

Mom says you can breathe again. I hope she's right and that you're never tethered down again. You're too strong, too independent, too incredible to let anything keep you down.

I love you so very much.

Love Always,
Erika Elizabeth

P.S. Tell whoever's in charge they need to stock up on ice cream for you. Butter pecan. Cones, too.

 

The Follow Up

Well, I'd say I've been missing quite long enough.  Here I am.  Bask in my... here-ness?

So, I wrote these pretty heavy/serious/unhappy posts and then I disappeared.  What gives?  It took a lot out of me to write all of that, and I guess I just needed a break before coming back to explain.

I have 3 main reasons for writing those posts.  The first is completely selfish: it was therapeutic.  My closer friends already knew most of what I went through (or, at least the parts they were around for), but I haven't talked much about any of it in a long time.  When something like that sits inside of you, it feels kind of like a bowling ball sitting in your stomach.  (OK, maybe something smaller, but you get my point.)  Writing about it and getting it all out there felt so good.

The second reason (slightly less selfish) is to share my gratitude.  I was (and still am!) lucky to have people in my life who loved me and cared enough about me to take some action.  Not everyone is so lucky, and I'm utterly grateful to everyone who has touched - and saved - my life.  Without some of you, I couldn't have become who I am today.

The third reason is (I hope) the least selfish and most important.  There are people out there with stories like mine who should know that they aren't alone and that it can get better.  It doesn't happen overnight, and it doesn't happen without some effort, but it can happen.

If my story can touch one person, I've achieved more than I could ever hope for.  My pursuit of a degree in Psychology isn't just because I find it interesting, but because I want to use it to change a world.  Not necessarily the world, but a world.  

What's the difference?  The world is a big freakin' place.  It's a whole planet.  With billions upon billions of people, each with his own issues, worries, dreams, regrets, and everything else.  A world is much smaller, more personal.  My world, for example, encompasses me, my friends and family, and the things I cherish most in life.  Many people have helped change my world, and in return, I want to help change some other world.

Maybe I'll help change one person's world.  Maybe I'll help change a community's world.  Maybe I truly will help change THE world.  The best I can do is try.

So with these posts begins an epic journey to change things, one world at a time.  If I've changed your world, thank you.  Thank you for letting me in, thank you for believing in yourself, and thank you for being you.  And if I haven't changed your world, I know someone else out there has.  Be sure to thank them, please. :)

Have a beautiful Memorial Day weekend, lovelies! <3

You ARE Beautiful!

So I was browsing some blogs this morning and came across Operation Beautiful.

This. Is. Genius!

I have always been a fan of leaving notes for people to read (I once stuck a tiny note in my husband's wallet - took him a few days/weeks, but he found it!).  Emails are nice, and it's ALWAYS important to verbalize your feelings, and Hallmark makes some lovely cards...  But every once in awhile it's nice to leave a note.  Notes are something special that someone can take with them (or at least recall with a smile later on) that reminds them that they're special.  And whether you want to admit it or not, everyone needs to be reminded that they're important or good or loved in some way.

So when I read about Op Beautiful this morning, my heart about burst!  This is such an amazing concept!!

My new goal is to leave at least 50 Op Beautiful notes this year.  (Since I work and attend school from home, I don't go out much, but once a week should be reasonable, I think.)  Hopefully that will be 50 lives I can touch or 50 smiles I can make.  :-)