When we moved to Nashville seven years ago, we downsized. So we placed a lot of our things in storage while we slowly expanded our home. Some of these things were memories. Baby albums. Our wedding guestbook. Special baby clothes. Forgotten tapes. College memories. High school ones. I told Jamin that the last seven years of our lives have been the biggest growth spurt someone could possibly experience with lots of growing pains. While sometimes we felt impatient, trudging through quicksand in slow motion, it was actually a huge transformation of leaps and bounds in changing our trajectory. Family shifts, growing friendships, parenting our children into teenage-hood, renovating our own home, and growing a multifaceted business in the next phase from the ground up {my greatest life disappointment is that there is no mysteriously-deceased, rich aunt with a hefty nest egg to leave us and I would have made an adorable trophy wife} has been both amazing and really really hard. There’s been a lot of hard editing, so that we can be more intentional. There have been some difficult sacrifices we don’t often talk about. TL;DR: We need a nap.
So looking back, these are past chapters of our lives in little containers, that we’ve moved away from. They were unexpected time capsules, when we opened them again and started sifting through. Looking back, those past phases all happened so quickly. We’re wondering how our oldest just asked someone to prom… WHAT. Wasn’t he that sweet toddler, just yesterday? I just found his preschool graduation certificate.
It feels like we’re turning a new page to that next chapter. Time is fleeting and it’s only going faster.
expectation vs reality – what the basement looked like all last week between work + sorting – much more to the right, behind that sofa. Basically organized chaos that I wasn’t really ready to deal with.
Having children is a lot like seeing yourself grow up, all over again. I know they’re most definitely their own people, so perhaps that’s an oversimplified, slightly self-centered way of putting things. I think as parents, we naturally tend to swing the pendulum back to provide for them the things we found lacking in our own childhoods. But I’d be in full-on denial if I didn’t admit I sometimes live vicariously through my children. We all do that, just a little.
Included in one of the storage containers, next to those baby clothes, was my prom dress circa 1997. No, I don’t know how or why I’ve held on to it all these years. But my middle wanted to try it on. And when she did, I had a moment.
I stood in that dress when I had hopes and dreams in a world with endless possibilities for my future. I had no idea where I was going… I just knew it was going to be good. Or at least I hoped so. Now my own daughter is old enough to wear it, with her very own take on hers.
We take walks after school, when we can, and the other afternoon, my own 15 year old exuded wisdom beyond her years over a situation that honestly served as a piece of advice for me. I hadn’t had the bandwidth to fully process something yet, but I’d mentioned it and she certainly had her own take. So she told me what she thought. I was honestly floored by her sage advice, and her ability to see so clearly. Her father and I just try the very best that we can, but we realize her wisdom actually has absolutely nothing to do with us. It’s all her. Plain and simple.
Digging through those photos. Watching my daughter put on my dress. It made me a little nostalgic.
If only I could travel back in time… I started to think through a few things I wish I could tell myself. I guess the fact that time is so fleeting can leave us feeling… I don’t know… regret? Wishing we’d caught on sooner. Done some things differently. Pivoted just a little. We only get one go at this. What if we could have a head start? Cheat codes or something… At the very least, a mysteriously rich, deceased aunt?
She wanted to try on the dress, and was a good sport to let me document.
But pause. Record screech. I think it’s easy to fall into that trap. Would I? Would I hop back in a time-traveling DeLorean and give myself advice, if I actually could?
For starters, I think that a 16-ish year old me, would stare at my face wondering how I’ve gotten so old. Like, people in their 40’s are super old, right? And then I’d probably forget what older me even said, or disagree with everything because of that under-developed frontal cortex, a little brainwashed by my current situation thing. I’m not the same person I was in those photos. I’m not even the same person I was seven years ago. That’s the point… I was still cooking. Still processing in different ways, now. And the lessons I wish I could have learned just a little earlier, came the only way that they can: with time and life and the school of hard knocks.
Unfortunately that’s how life works. You just have to roll with it.
My own lessons would be something like:
Stop handing off your power to others.
Don’t question yourself.
Stick with your gut.
Stop playing small.
Saying it again for that woman in the back: Stop. Playing. Small.
photo by the talented light by iris
But I think one of the main things would be, just be okay with who you are, where you are, when you are.
Truly. I think this is one of the best pieces of advice we can give ourselves, and our children.
Something happened when I was looking back at those photos. Of course all the feelings included the standard, existential crisis nonsense that haunts us all in the early hours of the morning when racked with a nice bout of insomnia.
I wish I had been more this or that. I was never satisfied with who I was.
Bringing that concept into now: I am never satisfied with who I am. Yeah. It’s still a thing.
I think there are both good and bad elements to that way of thinking… You can challenge yourself and reinvent yourself and grow. That’s the good side. That is, until you venture into the “never good enough” territory of berating oneself, which I’m more often guilty than not, of doing.
So, I’d probably just give younger me an awkward hug {because neither one of us are huggers} and tell her to embrace who she is. Right now.
I’ve lived my entire life hoping, wishing, waiting, striving, and trying.
No one ever told me it was really okay to just be.
To just breathe.
The same lessons I should have learned then, are true now, too.
Life and happiness and being okay with who you are, is all about perspective.
There’s a little bird who’s built a nest in the wreath on our front porch. She’s so intent on guarding those eggs, and we can’t decide if she picked a brilliant spot, or the world’s worst. It definitely could have ended badly for her, if she chose the wrong location. I mean, we can’t use our front door anymore, for starters. And if she picked a house of turds who destroyed her nest… it could have been bad. But instead, it’s just us. We watch intently and take photos when she’s not looking. My point? She doesn’t even realize how precariously she’s decided to place so much in the hands of chance.
She’s just doing the best she can.
I think it’s often the good things in life, the things we have that we can be grateful for, that are lost on us. They’re totally missed by us because we worry over so much that doesn’t even matter.
So enjoy the moment.
Seize the present.
Accept yourself right where you are.
Don’t get caught up in what should-have-beens or where you’re going or that antiquated lie beaten into females that we’re never enough… {isn’t that so tired already? Change that voice in your head to a kinder one, even if it’s all you were told your entire life.} There’s a lot to be said about giving your past self, and your future self and your immediate now self, a whole lot of grace.
Just embrace now. Because it’s the same lesson that presents itself over and over again. It’s all for a very good reason. Enjoy it. The whole freaking thing.
We’re all just doing the best that we can, with what we’ve been given. For such a short amount of time. We can pick it apart and over analyze everything, or we can just enjoy it. This is what I’d tell myself. This is what I tell my kiddos, these beautiful amazing people to whom I’m so grateful for teaching me so much.
We get one take at this. So embrace It. Right where you are.
Because all we have is now.
The great, glorious, imperfect now.
Anna says
This post is beautiful. Thank you for sharing. It’s just so relatable.
ashley @ the handmade home says
Thank you, Anna!
Carrie says
So beautifully said!
ashley @ the handmade home says
Thank you so much, Carrie! You are too sweet. I miss the days of connecting through writing and sometimes it’s fun to reflect on here.
Debbie says
Loved this post. So true you’re a great story teller and your as beautiful as your Daughter.
ashley @ the handmade home says
You’re so sweet, Debbie. Thank you for your kind words!
Brie says
Thank you for sharing this message. So much truth. It spoke to my heart. Blessings to you and yours!