Everyone ever in the world has had a moment where they just felt like they were falling apart. I swear, I'm one of the most selfish person in the world. I detail my days hoping each one turns out the way I envisioned in my mind, and when it doesn't (almost every day) I get frustrated. I get tired. Angry...with myself, with others, with the world. And then the thought occurred to me one day...what if I'm not the one struggling the most? Which is definitely true. And what if that mom with the screaming kid just had the worst day of her life?
Moms. I'm convinced they're real superheroes. Someone design a cape, stat.
Now, I'm not saying that moms are falling apart all the time. I think it's the opposite. I think they're the ones to keep it together so desperately when everyone is falling apart. They pick up the pieces, they put them back together, and they also just cleaned up their stupid kids peanut butter and jelly sandwhich off the wall - they can't even.
So here's the deal, people. Moms are amazing. I wish we gave them more credit, honestly. I definitely didn't see any issues with being moms before this year. It seemed fun, there seemed to be a lot of people rallying around you. You got presents, and people baked you cookies to say "hey look you made a person". But it only lasts for like three days, and then you're left with cookie crumbs on your carpet, a crying, pooping, squishy, new, tiny person, and possibly a day left of sanity...if that. Most people are done being excited, encouraging, and helpful. Which is fine, it's not their family, but it can get lonely. And I'm not even a mom...this is simply an observation.
I worked in a preschool this last year. Nine months of two year olds every. single. week. It was definitely a learning experience. I fell in love quickly with the children. But I noticed something that I couldn't deal with at all.
Preschool teachers love to complain. Like about every little thing. Procedures, rules, space, kids, food, hours, and MOMS.
"I can't believe they would pack that for lunch" (PSA: those gogurt things suck. Ms. Michayla scrubbed the floor too many times because of those devil creations)
"Do they even parent their kid"
"Why would they dress them in that"
"They'd be potty trained already if there was effort put into it"
"Runny nose? Full time working mom of three should have kept him home"
"Who would buy this type of diaper"
Literally nothing can be right for these people. Don't get me wrong, childcare is hard. Like really hard. And there are days you catch yourselves complaining about other people. But parents are doing a good job. They're just trying to provide a decent living, make sure their kids are in a paoictige environment, and get through life a day at a time. It's our job to provide a loving environment for these children who are entrusted to us every day. We are not their parents, but when mom and dad are away, we are the closest thing to that. We are their support system, their food givers, their playtime chaperones. And they should be able to do that without having to subtly hear teachers dissing their mommas.
So here's to you, moms. You're doing an awesome job at dragging your screaming toddler across the grocery store floor in attempt to get them outta there as quickly as humanly possible. You're doing a great job at making that peanut and butter sandwich...and scrubbing the wall afterwards. You're doing great at loving. At caring. At dressing them...or letting them dress themselves because they're independent and beautiful and careless and that's great. You're doing a good job at being you, at holding it together, at letting yourself all apart, at keeping your littles alive and happy and carefree. It won't last long, and, in my opinion, you're doing fantastic. Keep doing, you, mom. It's okay to can't even...because kids are odd.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
When Social Media Affects Your Hips
I'm going to start out being so super honest. I'm Michayla. I am eighteen years old. I am 5'6, and I weigh 140 pounds (I almost lied and told you I was 130, but that would defeat the purpose of this post).
One year ago I was about 135 pounds. The year before that I was probably 125, and three years ago I was 120 pounds. Now, I started seeing a trend. I gain weight every year. I mean come on, it's right there in front of my face. In the past three years I gained 20 pounds. That's a whole lot, I know. BUT here's the good news (for me). Three years ago I was fifteen years old. Fifteen. I was young, I was growing, and I could barely keep a woman's pair of jeans up. Now I am half way through my eighteenth year of life, and you'll be happy to know I can keep up women's jeans. I know you're impressed.
I don't really know why I am telling you guys all of this.
I mean this is a really personal thing especially for teen girls. But let me tell you, I am not always happy or confident. There are days where I put on my jeans and want to cry. There are days where no matter how hard I try, I compare myself to every single other girl out there. I judge my hair, my clothes, my face, my hips, my hands. I judge everything about myself. We are taught to not judge others, and in turn we end up judging ourselves way more. I'll find myself looking at pictures of myself from when I was barely in high school and thinking how skinny I looked.
I recently found a picture of myself in my sophomore year of high school, and I thought to myself, "Wow, I was so thin". I wished I could look like that again. I started thinking even more about how I felt during that time of my life, and I remember feeling so insecure . Even then I would at pictures and would wish I was skinnier. How messed up is that? I'm here wishing I looked like my past self who was wishing to look like someone else. Skinny was a not healthy word in my vocabulary.
I don't really know the answer to that, but I have an idea. I think it's social media. We spend hours and hours looking at pictures of other people and their "perfect" lives. We look at their clothes, their makeup, their weight, and then we look at ours and we think it sucks. That is just so sad. My hips are getting really offended, and I am just getting sadder. No one is winning.
STOP comparing yourself to everyone everywhere. Easier said than done? Yes. Impossible? No. It definitely seems impossible at times for me, but I'm trying. I am trying to love the body that I was given. I am trying to take care of it best I can. Every person is different regarding the way that they look. We need to stop trying to seem perfect. Stop faking our lives on Instagram and Twitter and Facebook. Stop flaunting our pant size, and start talking about our real selves.
I want you to know the person who bawls while watching Fox and the Hound. I want you to know the person that buys men's flannel because they are comfy. I want you to know the person that can eat three bowls of Fettuccine Alfredo and still want more. I want you to know what I like and what I don't like. I want you to know my flaws, and I want you to know that I am working on them. I want you to know that I have really bad days. Days where my confidence takes a vacation and leaves me in the cold. Days where getting out of bed is hard. And days where I do it anyway.
No matter how much that "perfect" girl on social media tries to portray her life as flawless, let me tell you, there are so many flaws you don't see because she won't let you. We all have flaws whether we show them or not.
I want people to know that I am just like every other person out there: beautifully flawed, and in desperate need of love and approval. And getting that approval from other people will never satisfy you. I'm still learning that one.
One year ago I was about 135 pounds. The year before that I was probably 125, and three years ago I was 120 pounds. Now, I started seeing a trend. I gain weight every year. I mean come on, it's right there in front of my face. In the past three years I gained 20 pounds. That's a whole lot, I know. BUT here's the good news (for me). Three years ago I was fifteen years old. Fifteen. I was young, I was growing, and I could barely keep a woman's pair of jeans up. Now I am half way through my eighteenth year of life, and you'll be happy to know I can keep up women's jeans. I know you're impressed.
I don't really know why I am telling you guys all of this.
I mean this is a really personal thing especially for teen girls. But let me tell you, I am not always happy or confident. There are days where I put on my jeans and want to cry. There are days where no matter how hard I try, I compare myself to every single other girl out there. I judge my hair, my clothes, my face, my hips, my hands. I judge everything about myself. We are taught to not judge others, and in turn we end up judging ourselves way more. I'll find myself looking at pictures of myself from when I was barely in high school and thinking how skinny I looked.
I recently found a picture of myself in my sophomore year of high school, and I thought to myself, "Wow, I was so thin". I wished I could look like that again. I started thinking even more about how I felt during that time of my life, and I remember feeling so insecure . Even then I would at pictures and would wish I was skinnier. How messed up is that? I'm here wishing I looked like my past self who was wishing to look like someone else. Skinny was a not healthy word in my vocabulary.
So what's the cause of all of this?
I don't really know the answer to that, but I have an idea. I think it's social media. We spend hours and hours looking at pictures of other people and their "perfect" lives. We look at their clothes, their makeup, their weight, and then we look at ours and we think it sucks. That is just so sad. My hips are getting really offended, and I am just getting sadder. No one is winning.
Here's the message I want to get across:
STOP comparing yourself to everyone everywhere. Easier said than done? Yes. Impossible? No. It definitely seems impossible at times for me, but I'm trying. I am trying to love the body that I was given. I am trying to take care of it best I can. Every person is different regarding the way that they look. We need to stop trying to seem perfect. Stop faking our lives on Instagram and Twitter and Facebook. Stop flaunting our pant size, and start talking about our real selves.
I want you to know the person who bawls while watching Fox and the Hound. I want you to know the person that buys men's flannel because they are comfy. I want you to know the person that can eat three bowls of Fettuccine Alfredo and still want more. I want you to know what I like and what I don't like. I want you to know my flaws, and I want you to know that I am working on them. I want you to know that I have really bad days. Days where my confidence takes a vacation and leaves me in the cold. Days where getting out of bed is hard. And days where I do it anyway.
No matter how much that "perfect" girl on social media tries to portray her life as flawless, let me tell you, there are so many flaws you don't see because she won't let you. We all have flaws whether we show them or not.
I want people to know that I am just like every other person out there: beautifully flawed, and in desperate need of love and approval. And getting that approval from other people will never satisfy you. I'm still learning that one.
Proverbs 3:26
For the Lord will be your confidence,
And will keep your foot from being caught
Friday, January 9, 2015
Dearest Daughter
Scarlett, I wrote this for my future daughter (if i ever have one because that would require a husband and giving birth and that's a lot of work), but one day you might need to read this. So I wrote this for you too. I love you forever.
Dearest daughter, you might be wondering why your mommy is writing to you at the age of seventeen, and honestly I don't have the answer to that question. I guess it's because when my life is moving at a million miles per hour, and my hair is a mess, and I'm up holding you at 2 am, and going through life on five hours of sleep, I might not be able to put into words just what I want to tell you.
Lately, I've been very confident when it comes to the way I look, and I realized it's not because I changed anything, but because of the positive people surrounding me. I have learned to love my soul more than my body, which in turn made me accept and care for the body that I have been blessed with. I realized that people notice my kindness more than the size of my thighs or waist. I pray that you realize this more quickly than I did. I found that people weren't labeling me as "The girl with the love handles", yet they were labeling me as "The girl who's always willing to help. or that will call you late at night when you need a friend to love you". I can't imagine how more beautiful life would've been if I found that out sooner.
With that being said, I promise to never let my weight determine my personality, and I will never let you do the same. I will not tell you that you can't have a cheeseburger, but I will advise you not to eat it at midnight. I will teach you that skinny isn't a word you find your value in. I will let you play sports and watch you become tough, or I will sit and watch you dance or sing or whatever you want to do. I will not dictate your talent, nor will I make you pursue it. If one day you come and tell me you want to do ballet, then I will buy you a tutu and drive you to class, but if another day you decide you're done, then you are done. Do not let your talents and interests impact your body in a negative way, and I will not make your body determine the person you are.
As far as love goes, you'll find someone who will make you feel beautiful on the days you thought that wasn't possible. I remember thinking that the way you look will make a boy love you more. I thought I would care more about my body or weight when I found someone I was interested in. I am so grateful to be able to tell you that that's not the case at all. Everything I was insecure with, slowly started to fade. Find somebody you loves your soul and mind, and the rest they'll love without thinking. The confidence I found when I accepted that I wasn't loved by people for my weight, yet by the things I stood for, is astounding.
I promise to love you, to teach you, and to cherish you. I promise to help mold you into the girl who can put on some lipstick and high heels and walk out with confidence and kindness. I promise to teach you that eating can be healthy, but sometimes you need to eat cheeseburgers and brownies covered in ice cream with a side of Oreos, and to be the girl who does not strive to be a size 0. I promise to be your best friend, and to love you for your soul, and mind, and intelligence, and talents.
I promise that you are not a number, you are a gift from above, and your heavenly father made you to impact the world with your talents and intelligence, not your body.
-With Love Always, Michayla.
(because I'm not from Arkansas)
Dearest daughter, you might be wondering why your mommy is writing to you at the age of seventeen, and honestly I don't have the answer to that question. I guess it's because when my life is moving at a million miles per hour, and my hair is a mess, and I'm up holding you at 2 am, and going through life on five hours of sleep, I might not be able to put into words just what I want to tell you.
Lately, I've been very confident when it comes to the way I look, and I realized it's not because I changed anything, but because of the positive people surrounding me. I have learned to love my soul more than my body, which in turn made me accept and care for the body that I have been blessed with. I realized that people notice my kindness more than the size of my thighs or waist. I pray that you realize this more quickly than I did. I found that people weren't labeling me as "The girl with the love handles", yet they were labeling me as "The girl who's always willing to help. or that will call you late at night when you need a friend to love you". I can't imagine how more beautiful life would've been if I found that out sooner.
With that being said, I promise to never let my weight determine my personality, and I will never let you do the same. I will not tell you that you can't have a cheeseburger, but I will advise you not to eat it at midnight. I will teach you that skinny isn't a word you find your value in. I will let you play sports and watch you become tough, or I will sit and watch you dance or sing or whatever you want to do. I will not dictate your talent, nor will I make you pursue it. If one day you come and tell me you want to do ballet, then I will buy you a tutu and drive you to class, but if another day you decide you're done, then you are done. Do not let your talents and interests impact your body in a negative way, and I will not make your body determine the person you are.
As far as love goes, you'll find someone who will make you feel beautiful on the days you thought that wasn't possible. I remember thinking that the way you look will make a boy love you more. I thought I would care more about my body or weight when I found someone I was interested in. I am so grateful to be able to tell you that that's not the case at all. Everything I was insecure with, slowly started to fade. Find somebody you loves your soul and mind, and the rest they'll love without thinking. The confidence I found when I accepted that I wasn't loved by people for my weight, yet by the things I stood for, is astounding.
I promise to love you, to teach you, and to cherish you. I promise to help mold you into the girl who can put on some lipstick and high heels and walk out with confidence and kindness. I promise to teach you that eating can be healthy, but sometimes you need to eat cheeseburgers and brownies covered in ice cream with a side of Oreos, and to be the girl who does not strive to be a size 0. I promise to be your best friend, and to love you for your soul, and mind, and intelligence, and talents.
I promise that you are not a number, you are a gift from above, and your heavenly father made you to impact the world with your talents and intelligence, not your body.
-With Love Always, Michayla.
(because I'm not from Arkansas)
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
To the Boy Who Stole my Heart
To the boy who stole me heart.
You are beautiful.
You are caring.
You are all the enchanting words I can think of in a day.
Remember that time you held my hand?
The very first time.
I had to take a deep breath because I wasn't used to someone making me feel so overwhelmed with emotion.
And then remember that time on the front porch?
Yeah, the time you tried to kiss me.
That little peck on the lips that I pulled away from.
I tried to explain why I didn't want you to kiss me.
I don't think you understood.
I just didn't want you to kiss me and leave me in the dust.
I didn't want you to leave because you got what you want.
To the boy who stole my heart.
I honestly don't know how you did it.
I told myself my walls were high, heart was all locked up.
I guess I should've been more careful, but now it's just too late.
To the boy who stole my heart.
You don't have to give it back.
Just please be careful, please be gentle. It's been broken times before.
Hold me close when I'm crying.
And hold me when I'm joyful.
Hold me when it's cold.
Hold me when it warm.
Hold me. And my heart.
To the boy who stole my heart.
Thank you.
For showing me how to open up again.
To trust again.
To fall again.
To love again.
To be my old self.
To the boy who stole my heart.
Thank you for letting me steal yours too.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
butterflies.
Darling, butterflies in your stomach will always be a rhetorical device that is used to describe the feeling of infatuation and interest. But butterflies are minuscule. Butterflies are what you feel when a cute boy looks at you across the room. Middle school crushes. And a text from the cutest boy in school.
I found out though, that when you really, truly start to fall for someone, those butterflies turn into freakishly large bulldozers that crash into every inch of your stomach, making it hard to breathe and think. And honestly, they are the most beautiful bulldozers I have ever seen.
don't settle for butterflies.
you deserve the bulldozers.
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