It's been two years since I've posted on here.
The woman writing this post now is nowhere near the woman I was in 2012. I can't even begin to describe how much I've changed. And my God, how I have grown.
Divorce is such an ugly word. I never thought I would be a product of it. But here I am, divorced at 25 with two kids. Not exactly where I thought life would be for me at this point. It took a long time- a LONG time- to accept it. To stop blaming each other, to stop hurting each other, to get past the anger and the bullshit and the fighting. Eventually, though, we did. That isn't to say that there aren't times where we get irritated with each other and snap at one another via texts or a comment or two under our breaths. But for the most part, we're okay. We've both moved on. I'm with someone now that makes me realize exactly why it never worked with Tyler, and he seems to be really happy, too. It's nice to be in a good, mentally healthy place about it and know that we are both happy.
I wrote him an email a few weeks ago, and I just wanted to share it. I feel like acceptance is the last part of letting go, and that's where we both are.
Hey,
Just wanted to tell you again how thankful I am for you. I know I sound like a broken record, but I just have grown a lot lately and I want you to really know how I feel. Sometimes I suck with words (you know this), so I thought it would be easier for me to tell you via email.
Although the thought of "us" and "the Bryan family" still stings a little, I've come to accept it for what it was. You are an incredible man, Tyler, and I was lucky to grow up and grow into an adult with you by my side every step of the way. You taught me most of the things my dad should have, and I know that sounds a little odd, but I mean it in a loving way. You took care of me, you taught me things, and then you gave me two beautiful children. And not only are you a good dad who comes to the games, you are a great dad who wants to coach. I will always love you for that. I will always consider you a part of my family; hell, you are my family. I feel blessed that I had you by my side when I entered something as life changing as parenthood, along with all the other things we achieved together, if only for a while.
I'll always cherish those nights in the house at Acworth and how safe you made me feel. I will never settle for less than a man's character if he doesn't match yours. I know that, at least, I did that part right with you. You are a good man, Tyler Bryan.
I hope you find happiness with someone new, be it Brittany or someone in the future. I hope she appreciates your love for Jim Morrison. I hope she makes amazing spaghetti and can cook a mean hamburger. I hope that every time you see her, you realize why our lives turned out like this. I hope your heart never stops fluttering when you think of her, and you never get in a routine or feel bored. I hope you find someone who knows all the words to your favorite RHCP and Slightly Stoopid songs, and will laugh at how cute you are when you sing along to Rehab. I hope she appreciates how good you look and all the work you put into your body. I hope she sees your scars as beauty marks that have shaped you into the incredible man that you are today.
I will always love your memory, and I will always love you with the piece of my heart that you own.
-Lindsey
Monday, August 11, 2014
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Saying I'm Sorry
A lot has happened between 23 and 24. Some good, some bad, but all have continued to grow me as a person.
I've made mistakes this year. Some of them have been epic. I hurt someone- understatement of the century- a friend that I truly and deeply cared for, and for that I will always be sorry. I am a Compartmentalizer- that means I can put people in categories without tying them to other people who may belong in other categories of my life. It's a good thing, most of the time, but in other situations it can be hurtful to others. But the mistake I made just had to happen. It was inevitable. It was "one of those things" that you have to do, because you know that if you don't, you'll never be able to live with yourself. You'll never know about that "What if, maybe..." And in making that Epic Mistake, I learned and I grew. I learned that if any two people really love each other (I'm talking all forms of love here), they will never outgrow that love. The only thing that weakens or dilutes that bond is time and distance, or both. I also learned that, regardless of love, if someone has proven themselves over and over to be a certain type of person, they will never magically have a revelation and outgrow that personality. That's just who they are. So you can either accept that, if you can live with yourself, or you can move on. REALLY move on. Find peace in knowing that you did everything you could, and find peace in knowing that you were, and always have been, right in the decision to walk away from someone who doesn't bring out the good- the best- in you. And I am a good person. In my heart, I know it. Regardless of some stupid decisions, I know that I have a good heart.
It's like Kepner's dessert tray metaphor. When that dessert tray comes around after dinner, and you want so badly to say no and refuse it, because you've had it before and you know how you feel afterward. You're way too stuffed, you're miserable, you might have chocolate zits on your face the next morning, and it completely cancelled out the diet you've been on, the great, amazing diet that you've built a great relationship with so far. It's terrible temptation for your willpower. But the waiter just keeps shoving that dessert tray in your direction, and you start to remember how great the dessert was. How good it tasted, how amazing it was when it was going down. And eventually, you cave. You eat the dessert. And immediately after you do, you feel sick at your stomach and you hate yourself. All you can think about is the salad you ordered for dinner, and how betrayed it must feel, because, after all, you were supposed to be on a diet. And it's awful and terrible, and you have to drive home from the restaurant feeling like a fat loser with zits who hates herself for eating that stupid chocolate cake.
For a while, I hated myself for the wrong I did. I shut out everyone in the entire world and closed myself into a room for weeks, beating myself up for failing. But eventually, you have to make a decision. Do you continue to stay in the dark, or do you dust yourself off and accept the love of people who see through your flaws and mistakes and love you anyway? It goes back to putting yourself around people who bring out the good in you and avoiding the people who bring you down and make you feel anything less than a woman who's only human, with flesh and bones who makes mistakes just like any other person. Even if that mistake was Epic and Huge.
To the person I hurt, I am truly and sincerely sorry. I hope one day you will find it in your heart to at least attempt to see things from another point of view, and accept that I will never find the words to explain how much I wish I could go back and change time. All I can do, though, is hope I did right by offering this person a chance to know the truth, and pray that one day this person will know that I have meant it from the bottom of my heart each and every time I have apologized.
I've made mistakes this year. Some of them have been epic. I hurt someone- understatement of the century- a friend that I truly and deeply cared for, and for that I will always be sorry. I am a Compartmentalizer- that means I can put people in categories without tying them to other people who may belong in other categories of my life. It's a good thing, most of the time, but in other situations it can be hurtful to others. But the mistake I made just had to happen. It was inevitable. It was "one of those things" that you have to do, because you know that if you don't, you'll never be able to live with yourself. You'll never know about that "What if, maybe..." And in making that Epic Mistake, I learned and I grew. I learned that if any two people really love each other (I'm talking all forms of love here), they will never outgrow that love. The only thing that weakens or dilutes that bond is time and distance, or both. I also learned that, regardless of love, if someone has proven themselves over and over to be a certain type of person, they will never magically have a revelation and outgrow that personality. That's just who they are. So you can either accept that, if you can live with yourself, or you can move on. REALLY move on. Find peace in knowing that you did everything you could, and find peace in knowing that you were, and always have been, right in the decision to walk away from someone who doesn't bring out the good- the best- in you. And I am a good person. In my heart, I know it. Regardless of some stupid decisions, I know that I have a good heart.
It's like Kepner's dessert tray metaphor. When that dessert tray comes around after dinner, and you want so badly to say no and refuse it, because you've had it before and you know how you feel afterward. You're way too stuffed, you're miserable, you might have chocolate zits on your face the next morning, and it completely cancelled out the diet you've been on, the great, amazing diet that you've built a great relationship with so far. It's terrible temptation for your willpower. But the waiter just keeps shoving that dessert tray in your direction, and you start to remember how great the dessert was. How good it tasted, how amazing it was when it was going down. And eventually, you cave. You eat the dessert. And immediately after you do, you feel sick at your stomach and you hate yourself. All you can think about is the salad you ordered for dinner, and how betrayed it must feel, because, after all, you were supposed to be on a diet. And it's awful and terrible, and you have to drive home from the restaurant feeling like a fat loser with zits who hates herself for eating that stupid chocolate cake.
For a while, I hated myself for the wrong I did. I shut out everyone in the entire world and closed myself into a room for weeks, beating myself up for failing. But eventually, you have to make a decision. Do you continue to stay in the dark, or do you dust yourself off and accept the love of people who see through your flaws and mistakes and love you anyway? It goes back to putting yourself around people who bring out the good in you and avoiding the people who bring you down and make you feel anything less than a woman who's only human, with flesh and bones who makes mistakes just like any other person. Even if that mistake was Epic and Huge.
To the person I hurt, I am truly and sincerely sorry. I hope one day you will find it in your heart to at least attempt to see things from another point of view, and accept that I will never find the words to explain how much I wish I could go back and change time. All I can do, though, is hope I did right by offering this person a chance to know the truth, and pray that one day this person will know that I have meant it from the bottom of my heart each and every time I have apologized.
Monday, August 6, 2012
"Feed My Sheep"
Please take the time to watch this. Seriously, if more people could hear messages like this, more people would come to church.
I love my pastor.
Revolution Church
I love my pastor.
Revolution Church
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Mommyisms of a 23 year old
The past week has left me up all night for several nights. Writing is my outlet, and for some reason, mommyhood was on my mind the past week or so. Here's some brutal honesty from a 23-year-old mother of two (under three!):
First of all, I cannot stress this enough: If you are a parent, just because you are young doesn't mean you get to act like it all the time. I'm twenty-three years old, but I have a husband and two toddlers. That's not the same twenty-three as the single recent college graduate with no responsibilities. When you're single, or even just married, you can do whatever you want, whenever you want. No hassle, no one to answer to or worry about. You are Numero Uno. The minute you decide to have a child, that child is the only thing in the world that matters anymore. Like, at all. You have another life to worry about. And you have to grow up. Fast. You owe it to your baby to make them the center of your life. That's where they belong. You live for nothing else except that life growing inside you, and later, the life and person that you brought into this world.
Having a baby changes everything, no matter if you're trying to get pregnant or not.
If you're considering mommyhood, you need to think about a few things before you go volunteering your uterus to act as an oven for the next 40 weeks.
Ladies, you need to make sure you see past the cute nursery decor ideas and the adorable newborn photoraphs on Pinterest. It's not all bows and ribbons and cute frills. My best friend thought that she was ready to be mom... until she became one.
You need to smell a bottle that rolled under the car seat two weeks ago that you just didn't see. Or change a diaper that should have been changed thirty minutes ago, but you ran out of diapers in the car and had to wait until you got home, but by then it was too late.
Stay up all night with a baby that's crying and you have no idea what to do to make her stop. Trade shifts with your grumpy husband, then start crying because you're both snapping at each other because you haven't slept in days.
Carry an infant carrier with you everywhere you go for a year. EVERY time you get out of the car. EVERY time you go in the house. EVERY time you go pay for gas. EVERY time you go into Starbucks to grab a coffee. EVERY time you run to the ATM. EVERY time you do anything at all. Every time? EVERY TIME.
Before you leave the house, pack an entire bag separate from your purse with your car keys, cell phone, wallet, debit card, ID, money, lip gloss, compact, tampons, etc. Make sure you pack a diaper bag. This includes (but is not limited to) formula, bottled water, diapers, scented diaper disposal bags, hand sanitizer, wipes, a few extra outfits, a pacifier, bibs, a burp cloth, an extra pair of socks, an extra bottle, diaper cream, toys, your baby's favorite book, snacks, Capri Suns, and Tylenol- just in case. Do this every single time you leave your house for three years. Every. Single. Time.
Sex? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. When the baby gets here, you're off-limits for at least six weeks, and let's be honest, you're not even ready to be touched then. He's huffing and puffing, not realizing the great Act of God you've just performed to birth his offspring. When you finally are feeling up to it again, you're always just getting good and into it when BAM!- the monitor erupts into wails and it's time to make a bottle. Then after he eats, he has to burp, and you might as well change him since he's up. He's being fussy, so when you lay him down he belts out a high-pitched scream, so you have to bounce him to sleep for twenty minutes. By the time he's out, you stumble into bed, where your husband has already passed out across the bed, drooling onto your pillow. Good luck.
What music? You mean the stuff that you might occassionally hear on the radio if your baby falls asleep on the way home from a semi-long car ride? Once they get old enough to know better, your car is dominated by Disney sing-a-longs and Taylor Swift. I don't even know what it's like to listen to what I want to any more. Tyler and I used to fight over the radio; now we fight with the kids over it.
Not long ago, you used to have a group of best friends. Now you have a husband, a baby, and if you're lucky, one other really good friend who has stuck by you through everything, and even then you don't get to talk like you used to. Responsibilities and life get in the way. If you're parenting correctly, you don't have much time for friends. It sucks, but it's true. Brutal honesty here.
Why would anybody in their right mind sign up for this? It's not fun. It's hard. It's brutal. It will test you to your limits and make you feel like you're about to break.
It's worth it- when you're ready- but if you're questioning getting pregnant (or getting pregnant again, Future Self), think about these things. These are reality.
I LOVE my kids- to the moon and back again. But they are HARD.
If you aren't ready, wait. You have all the time in the world. If you are, join the club and realize what it's like to live your life in a constant whirlwind of sippy cups and Goldfish. :)
First of all, I cannot stress this enough: If you are a parent, just because you are young doesn't mean you get to act like it all the time. I'm twenty-three years old, but I have a husband and two toddlers. That's not the same twenty-three as the single recent college graduate with no responsibilities. When you're single, or even just married, you can do whatever you want, whenever you want. No hassle, no one to answer to or worry about. You are Numero Uno. The minute you decide to have a child, that child is the only thing in the world that matters anymore. Like, at all. You have another life to worry about. And you have to grow up. Fast. You owe it to your baby to make them the center of your life. That's where they belong. You live for nothing else except that life growing inside you, and later, the life and person that you brought into this world.
Having a baby changes everything, no matter if you're trying to get pregnant or not.
If you're considering mommyhood, you need to think about a few things before you go volunteering your uterus to act as an oven for the next 40 weeks.
Ladies, you need to make sure you see past the cute nursery decor ideas and the adorable newborn photoraphs on Pinterest. It's not all bows and ribbons and cute frills. My best friend thought that she was ready to be mom... until she became one.
You need to smell a bottle that rolled under the car seat two weeks ago that you just didn't see. Or change a diaper that should have been changed thirty minutes ago, but you ran out of diapers in the car and had to wait until you got home, but by then it was too late.
Stay up all night with a baby that's crying and you have no idea what to do to make her stop. Trade shifts with your grumpy husband, then start crying because you're both snapping at each other because you haven't slept in days.
Carry an infant carrier with you everywhere you go for a year. EVERY time you get out of the car. EVERY time you go in the house. EVERY time you go pay for gas. EVERY time you go into Starbucks to grab a coffee. EVERY time you run to the ATM. EVERY time you do anything at all. Every time? EVERY TIME.
Before you leave the house, pack an entire bag separate from your purse with your car keys, cell phone, wallet, debit card, ID, money, lip gloss, compact, tampons, etc. Make sure you pack a diaper bag. This includes (but is not limited to) formula, bottled water, diapers, scented diaper disposal bags, hand sanitizer, wipes, a few extra outfits, a pacifier, bibs, a burp cloth, an extra pair of socks, an extra bottle, diaper cream, toys, your baby's favorite book, snacks, Capri Suns, and Tylenol- just in case. Do this every single time you leave your house for three years. Every. Single. Time.
Sex? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. When the baby gets here, you're off-limits for at least six weeks, and let's be honest, you're not even ready to be touched then. He's huffing and puffing, not realizing the great Act of God you've just performed to birth his offspring. When you finally are feeling up to it again, you're always just getting good and into it when BAM!- the monitor erupts into wails and it's time to make a bottle. Then after he eats, he has to burp, and you might as well change him since he's up. He's being fussy, so when you lay him down he belts out a high-pitched scream, so you have to bounce him to sleep for twenty minutes. By the time he's out, you stumble into bed, where your husband has already passed out across the bed, drooling onto your pillow. Good luck.
What music? You mean the stuff that you might occassionally hear on the radio if your baby falls asleep on the way home from a semi-long car ride? Once they get old enough to know better, your car is dominated by Disney sing-a-longs and Taylor Swift. I don't even know what it's like to listen to what I want to any more. Tyler and I used to fight over the radio; now we fight with the kids over it.
Not long ago, you used to have a group of best friends. Now you have a husband, a baby, and if you're lucky, one other really good friend who has stuck by you through everything, and even then you don't get to talk like you used to. Responsibilities and life get in the way. If you're parenting correctly, you don't have much time for friends. It sucks, but it's true. Brutal honesty here.
Why would anybody in their right mind sign up for this? It's not fun. It's hard. It's brutal. It will test you to your limits and make you feel like you're about to break.
It's worth it- when you're ready- but if you're questioning getting pregnant (or getting pregnant again, Future Self), think about these things. These are reality.
I LOVE my kids- to the moon and back again. But they are HARD.
If you aren't ready, wait. You have all the time in the world. If you are, join the club and realize what it's like to live your life in a constant whirlwind of sippy cups and Goldfish. :)
Saturday, July 21, 2012
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