Over the past two and a half days, I wrote a post, a very long post. I've deleted, and saved it somewhere else: intentionally. I've been meaning to write a post on co-parenting for a while now, but I've been weary and hesitant because I know: as good as it's been going, it could change and crumble almost instantly.
What I've learned this week is that: this relationship has been seemingly working, but only because I've stopped asking for things from him. The moment I ask, is the moment I realize that he will not give. It's the moment I get, not only let down, but incredibly hurt to give so much to receive close to nothing in return, from someone who will always be a part of my life. If I don't ask for anything, things continue to work and appear better. Our relationship will only seem better, but never actually be better, unless he can change too. Until then, it's up to me to keep this separate child raising relationship floating, by never asking and always giving... and unfortunately, thats the best it's going to get. I've stopped depending on Alex for anything, it's the only thing that helps me keep my sanity (and keeps me happy) when dealing with him. Yes, as much as I would like our relationship to BE better and not just SEEM better, that's not up to me, I am only one person in this two person relationship, and I'm doing everything I can.
I do a lot for him. At times (okay, most of the time), probably more than I should. It's just who I am. He and I, are different in this way. Who we are will always depend not only on our nurture, but our nature too. Alex and I are both emotional and we are both closed off. We avoid, we blow up, and until now, we both lived in fear of our own emotions. I don't live in fear of my emotions anymore. I embrace them, and have grown to work with them and find happiness within them. I will be incredibly surprised if Marlowe does not come out to be a stubborn (determined), emotional, woman filled with too much love to give. I want her always to know: it's okay. We are who we are. Love will happen. Let downs will happen. The hardest moments, she never, EVER thought she could face and go through will happen, and she will get through it. And I will be here. Just like I don't need Alex (or anyone) to take care of me, she won't need it either. She can run with her emotions and her love and she can and will do everything she expects of herself, and more.
I've read this book to Marlowe many, many times in the past three days. And I've read it even more times to myself. On friday night I learned again: do not ask Alex for anything, it's only me here that I can depend on. No matter how much I give to him, there is no guarantee, he will be here to help me out when I need him the most. As I sobbed, and in between phone calls, pleading with him to come by and watch Marlowe: I read the book, over and over. The book was wet and soggy when it arrived to my door, many months ago. It seems fitting. Even though I wanted the book, it sat on my desk forever and I never bothered to read it, I already knew all the words from watching the video so many times. But this week, I needed it. I needed those twenty pages or so, how many ever number of words, and the strong meanings (to me) to remind me what raising a daughter is-- and not just a daughter, but my daughter... who will one day own many of the same flaws and traits that (her father and) I possess. She'll struggle with herself, she'll make mistakes, and one day: she'll figure it all out too, hopefully at a much younger age than I did. Whoever she is and becomes, whether it be: strong, emotional, filled with too much love... or something completely different... I want her to know: it's okay to be that woman, and not only okay, but it's amazing. She will always be loved for it.
This isn't a sponsored post, by any means, but I really do recommend Sarah Kay's book: B to any mother (particularly mother's of daughters) or to any young woman, needing a bit of encouragement in this sometimes slightly disappointing world.
You can check out more of Sarah's work: here. It's a little bit crazy when you read or hear "B" and find out she's only twenty four years old, and not yet a mother. Very inspirational, if you ask me.
To see her live performance of "B" on TedTalks: go here. She speaks about spoken poetry demanding to be heard out loud. I couldn't agree more. Hearing her perform the poem, or even sitting in my bed, reading the book out loud, to no one but me and my kid, makes it just that much more powerful. I suggest you try it. I almost debated recording myself reading it, as I do love love love spoken poetry, but I wouldn't do it justice.