I remember when I was in high school, a time when I settled for friends who weren't friends. Girls who said mean spirited things to me. Those words cut. I sat on my mom's bed and cried and she looked at me and told me I would be dealing with these kinds of people my entire life - that I needed to learn now, how to react. I was clueless then, and at times I feel just as lost today as the sixteen year old I was then.
I feel funkish, I've sulked a bit lately on some hurtful things that were said/done. Moped around. Second guessed and questioned and wanted to stomp my feet on the ground. More than anything I wanted to climb onto my mom's bed so she could make me feel better.
But I've realized, without knowing what would come to pass, she was training me for these moments. She was instilling strength and grace and dignity, so that one day, a day when I couldn't climb onto her bed, I could handle mean spirited people, I could let off-putting words roll off my back.
And I want to do that for Quinn. I know the day will come that she'll climb on my bed, tear filled eyes, questions that are hard to hear. And I want to feel strong enough to give her confident answers. I want to instill these things in her, for the day she won't be able to climb up onto my bed.
Being a grown up is hard stuff sometimes. Okay, often times. Navigating my own insecurities while realizing I need to also be the one with the answers is tricky. I suppose coming to the simple conclusion that I don't and won't have all of the answers. But I'll do my best.
As she did my hair today, I thought of all this. Of the gift she is, the healing power in her place in our family. I squeezed her a bunch and decided no amount of opinions of others can have that much control over me. It's as simple as saying I refuse it. So I did, today. In front of a dirty mirror, nestled in my robe, I let her gentle spirit wash over me. I held my head high and reminded myself "I am good enough". And I'll remind her of it too. As many times as it takes.