Today I stumbled onto this post, and then this post. And tears welled, pooled, and ran in rivulets down my face as I imagined so much hurt. Not imagined, really. Remembered is more accurate. I have been there. And I ache and tremble to think that one day Jayci might make one mistake. Or rather, that she WILL make mistakes. And that this world, the people around her, might not ever let her forget. To imagine she might feel such depths of pain and shame, that she might one day wish she was made to be something and someone else. That she might be left out, alone, ignored, or ridiculed.
I dont want to simply raise a "good" girl. I dont care if she is successful or pretty or dresses well or makes good grades.
I want her to be heard. To be brave. The kind of soul-moving and earth-changing bravery that only comes from the certainty that we are noticed. That we can and do make a difference, simply by our existence.
So I want, no I must, leave space. Leave margin in my life where I can hear her. Where she knows that I will listen, that someone cares. Always.
I want her to be heard. To be brave. The kind of soul-moving and earth-changing bravery that only comes from the certainty that we are noticed. That we can and do make a difference, simply by our existence.
So I want, no I must, leave space. Leave margin in my life where I can hear her. Where she knows that I will listen, that someone cares. Always.