this was yesterday's writing that i did in INK in a JOURNAL...first time since i was a teenager....
i've had a few things happen in the last week that have caused me to come to terms with something that has been rattling around in my brain for years. as people, we spend entirely too much time comparing ourselves to others. and as a parent, we do it even more. the judgement that is rained down on people without knowing anything about their story has completely saddened me. my story (and the baggage that comes along with it) is not the right or wrong way to live, parent, give birth, study, begin relationships, end relationships, decide to go to the doctor, cross traffic or fold laundry. i've had bad things happen to me; all i ask is that someone respect that these things are the threads my spirit is woven out of. and i, when i meet someone, am a collector of these fibers. i want to learn what makes them...them. not to judge, not to compare myself, but to know.
many of us will never be blissfully pregnant again. and for that matter, nothing we ever do again will be entirely without some stabbing of sorrow. every achievement, holiday, scraped knee, first day of school, and phone call is another thing without. However, should our pain mean that those walking different paths can't feel the pureness of joy? no. if we expect people to understand that we cannot be all smiles, then isn't it kind to not expect others to be all frowns? yes.
and in a way, this acceptance of what is and the differences that will occur in nearly all relationships, gives immense peace.