I am not

I sent a message out on my phone telling him I miss him and went to sleep. Of course between friends of the opposite sex, those weren't the words I used. I would never say that, not to him, maybe not to anyone.

 But I do- I miss him.

I miss the way he cut through the bullshit for me. I miss having someone who right or wrong was always on my side. I miss having someone else see my child as she is and loving her just that way. No excuses, no imagined divides, no hidden agendas.

No pretend smiles, no sudden silent conversations, no half-hearted cups of kindness. In fact, nothing about him was ever fake.

But that's not the shadow hanging over a 5:25 AM alarm. It's this day ahead of me. I have to get up and return to the place I left crying. The spot where I held it together until the moment I clocked out and then lost it right there in the coach's room in front of anyone unlucky enough to be in there with me.

It's been over a year since I actually cried probably closer to 2.  It takes a lot to go wrong for me to not find something beautiful or good inside a bad moment. It takes a mountain range of frustration or sadness to bring me to tears. 

I have to assume it was not intentional. The moment was simply bad. Raw stupidity on my part.

No one likes looking stupid but add in the injury and slight to your struggling child and that is the cocktail that took me down.

Mostly I felt complicit in the actions that were hurting my own child. After all, I'm the smiling asshole who asked her, "Didn't they invite you to go with them?" No. No, they didn't but thanks for reminding me. Left me holding a bag of empty words trailing out, "I think they were going to..."

I'm not good at asking for help. I see it as something powerful and not to be done haphazardly.  It's not small, the act of reaching out an empty hand and asking someone else to help you fill it. It's not small that I believe people will find a way to help each other out.  I am always shocked to find out that's not as true as I want it to be.

This shifting landscape that is the world of gymnastics has given me more than I have put in. Shocking but true.

The athletes aren't the only ones it changes. I am braver. I am bolder. I have gone places and done things I never would have done. Through this experience, I relearned how to face the world. Learned to walk into the unknown and be okay.

Each parent has given me a gift. Each parent a story or a lesson. I am grateful for each and every one of them and their amazing daughters. We truly are a family, faults and all.

But I look at the idea of doing 3 more years like this.  Three more years watching my child walk it alone.  Her head held high, her kindness, her leadership, her cheering squad of one for the underdogs.  The spaces she wraps with her beauty.  The tears in the car.

It's not because she is homeschooled.  It's not because she doesn't go to church. It's not because her closest friends have all moved on. It's not because she lives in a different neighborhood.  It's not because she is at gymnastics 4 1/2  hours a day.  It's not because the other girls aren't good kids. It's not because she doesn't deserve it.  It's just because.

And it isn't going to change except to get worse as the social season builds.  There isn't a fix on the horizon because there isn't anything to fix... unless she quits and she's not a quitter.

The only person's behavior you can control is your own... unless you are crying and I'm not a crier.