Defining Me

Today I haven’t gotten out of bed yet and I should be feeding my kids lunch by now. Luckily to them, on days when I just don’t “show up” to be their mom they have free reign of the house and pantry so they aren’t too effected by my lack of presence. I used some excuse when a friend called me that I was sitting in bed “working” on my computer. In all actuality, I just can’t get out of bed. No one really knows how much I hurt. I hope no one ever will. It is hard to even put into words the pain in all of this. The pain in knowing that what I dreamed, planned and worked at that is now gone is unbearable at times. Yes, the most important aspect, our friendship, is still here and is unshakable but that doesn’t stop the pain of all that is lost.

I had lunch the other day with one of the greatest friends I have, and have had for over ten years now. She knows me inside and out, flaws and all. While we sat talking and I was catching her up on the latest and not so greatest parts of my life she looked at me and said “each time I don’t hear from you for a couple of days I have wishful thinking that somehow everything is back to better”. No, not the case as much as I have the same wishful thinking. I have not had many days of not getting out of bed, considering the trauma, I should seriously be in a mental institution by now. Yeah for me that I’m not.

Days like today I repeatedly say things to myself to help me take one more breath, to smile one more smile, to write one more blog post, to kiss one more set of sticky lips. I tell myself the things that will reassure me that my problems, my situation, my hurts, my failures, my heartbreak and my pain do not define me. I am so much bigger than all of this. I have so much more to life than just his one piece.

I am a runner.

Although I just started a year ago, I love running. It helps me clear my head, helps me set and reach a goal every day, and keeps my butt from catching back up with me. Honestly, never in my wildest dreams did I ever think “I am a runner” would come out of this mouth. I am a runner though. I hope to someday run another half and even a full marathon. I have slacked here recently just trying to get on a good routine but I still managed to get in great mileage last week and have a plan for next week. So, I’m not just defined by this trauma but I am also a runner.

I am a blogger

I started this blog in 2007. When I started I wasn’t even really sure what I was going to write about or if anyone but Josh would read it and laugh at my life with me. Luckily for me people did read it and encouraged me to keep going. I get a kick out of my google analytics, especially when all of you from other countries show up on my visitor map. When anyone leaves a comment I want to do a little dance, but I wouldn’t be so mean to those around me by subjecting them to my dancing. More than anything, in all of this life drama I’ve needed blogging. It’s great to get things off my chest and to hear the encouragement I am getting. It does make me want to get out of bed, even if I jump right back in with my laptop. Again, I am not all about making sure I am holding my head high, I am not defined by that alone but I am a blogger as well.

I am a mom

When I got pregnant with Emma all those years ago now, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I had wanted to be a mom my whole life. Growing up, I was the neighborhood mommy. I knew where every baby and toddler in a three block radius was located and I had nailed down their moms work schedules so I could be at their house when they most wanted some relief. I love kids. I love my kids. They make me laugh until my sides hurt, they give me so much to be thankful for and they are a great reminder of the life I’ve shared with Josh. They are the most time consuming, stressful, selfish, even crazed little beings, but the pay off is all worth every sacrifice and every bead of sweat poured out. I love being a mom. I will always be a mom, even while I’m insecure and needy and wanting to throw in the towel, I am not just defined by those things but I am a mom.

I am a friend

Being a friend is the most important thing that I am. I consider myself to be a good friend. It doesn’t sound like a very “motherly” thing to say that the most important role to me is friend...ok, I’m fine with that, sorry to disappoint. I am a friend who is loyal, trust worthy, compassionate and forgiving. I screw up a lot. I am selfish and stupid at times. Josh of course, is the best friend I have ever had. He screws up too a lot more than me (....heehee! I’m kidding) and he is selfish and stupid. Although, nothing has ever compared to what I have in him and what he has in me. I’ve not given anyone else as much of myself as I have given him and continue to give him. We tease that we are Oprah and Gail .......I’m Oprah of course! ******side note: Josh it’s in writing on the internet now so I consider this battle won***** No, really, I will give him whatever role he wants to play as long as we stay “us”. The great thing is, it doesn’t matter to either of us (ok, maybe just a little). Gail and Oprah, Thelma and Louise, Bert and Ernie, Chip and Dale, Walt and Roy.......none of them compare to Josh and Ambyr. In all of this I am not just defined by depression, gay and divorce I am still a best friend.

I am so many things. Things including daughter, neighbor,divorced, writer, OCD, scrap booker, liberalist, ex-wife, unsure, driven and accepting just to name a few. Some things I can be proud of and hop right out of bed and share with the world. Other things I am sad, embarrassed, humiliated and perfectly comfy keeping my head on the pillow and my face buried in the sheets over. It’s my choice what I focus on, I know that. Hopefully today is just one of the very few days that I choose the ladder, my kids wont last long on left over birthday cake and chips.