52 Weeks of Brotherhood: The One with the Race Medals

With Their Medals

I’ve already showed you racing photos and talked about how proud I was of these two little guys for running their first ever race. I’ve told you how LittleBrother wants to run it again. I didn’t get to tell you yet how he had me hang his medal up with his soccer and baseball medals, how he asked me to find a way to hang his race bib up on his wall.

Immediately Post-Race

I didn’t tell you that every time I found our family in the crowds, I found the boys and their monster hats first; I always saw them first before I found any of the adults. My soul seeks them out. I zeroed in on their faces and felt as if I could run eleven million more miles just to see that smile again—just to see that look of pride on their face again.

I didn’t tell you how we all posed with our medals after my husband and I ran our races… and how it meant more to me than any medal picture I’ve ever taken or posed for in all eternity.

Medals for All

There’s just so much I want to remember about our family time from this past weekend. It was a good weekend for brothers; it was a good weekend for the four of us. I will hold it close for a very long time.

 

Voice(s)

A Look

Recently someone asked me to acknowledge the negative voice(s) in my head by writing out what the voice(s) say to me. That’s a challenging prospect as I don’t really like to acknowledge the negative self-speak and the way it affects my daily life. However, in order to begin working on silencing the negative self-speak and listening to the truths of who I am, that acknowledgement is necessary.

And so, an edited look into the voice(s) in my mind.


You could have been so much more.

Your hair looks better straight/curly/darker/lighter/longer/shorter.

You’ll never be a good enough Christian.

You’ll never be a good enough daughter.

You’ll never be a good enough wife.

You’ll never be a good enough mother.

You’ll never be a good enough writer.

You’ll never be successful enough.

You’ll never make enough money.

It’s your fault.

You’re too loud.

You’ll never be thin like you were.

You don’t matter.

It wouldn’t have happened if you were a better person.

You weren’t the mom you needed to be when you needed to be her.

You’re not safe.

You’re not sane.

You’re weak.

You’re emotionally distant.

You’d be less anxious if you had more faith.

You’ll never be enough.

No good.

Not enough.

Failure.


There are more—more phrases, more voices, more specific pieces of hatred that float around in my head, day in and day out. Even on good days. It’s exhausting. It’s also been my reality for as long as I can remember. I have listened to the voice, allowed the voice to make me believe I am less than, that I am not worthy of love or respect or even to be heard. I have forcefully silenced myself in hopes of not hearing the voice inside my head verbalized by a human voice.

I recognize the need for this to change. I am ever-so-slowly taking steps to change this life-long pattern. I don’t know how long it will take. It is exhausting and scary and I don’t even know what life sounds like without these voices in the background.

But I look forward to living it.

 


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