@val_encia_mitchell
WIFE ~ MOM ~ CO-HOST
Thoughts for Today
LIFE WITH A TRAVELING SPOUSE
My husband is 6 months older than me. We got married young, me (19) and him (20). If you listen to @selfmisguidedpodcast we actually talk about how illegal it should be to get married so young.
We had our first kid right away so it felt like we skipped the newlywed stage all together and when you go straight to parenthood after getting married so young, it makes everything a little more difficult.
My husband has worked extremely hard since I’ve known him and has made it to where I have the opportunity to stay home with the kids and now homeschool them.
When our son was almost one, we were beginning to live paycheck to paycheck. We were yearning for something different and we took a risk. I was applying to get a job but my husband found a job that was traveling for 3 weeks at a time, so with a two week notice, we packed up everything and changed our lives completely. The first couple months were spent in Airbnb’s, hotels and even my in-laws for a while.
We ended up starting 2020 off in a camper where we stayed at a KOA in Texas for seven months. Even though most was during the COVID shutdown, we were parked next to a fellow co-worker, his wife and their son. She ended up being one of my closest friends by the end and I couldn’t live without her to this day. After that job ended, we were sent to Kansas and got to share that time together too. She helped me through an incredibly hard time and I’m still so grateful for everything she has done for me.
Sadly (for me), after that job ended, they chose to buy a house and come off the road. I was extremely happy for them, but I knew road life wouldn’t be the same without her. & it wasn’t.
The rest of the year was spent very scattered and inconsistent which proved to be a little more rough than we had experienced. Especially because I became pregnant and with never ending doctor appointments and pregnancy complications, road life and having a baby in a camper became less appealing. We opted to move in with my sister-in-law, (an extremely long story) so I can help with her kids and so my son and I could take a break from traveling.
That ended up not working out and we found a rental to share with our closest friends. During that year, my husband continued to travel (3 weeks away and 1 week home). It was extremely hard with having a newborn, toddler, and very little help from family, but having my best friend there was the way I got through it. She was the first to hold our daughter after she was born and has continued to maintain a role in their life that feels irreplaceable.
At the end of that year, we decided to buy a house. We weren’t in a position for my husband to come off the road yet nor were we prepared to travel all together again. Over the next six months, we made adjustments to make it possible. The following six months were bliss being all together but we were slowly getting back to financial instability. Over the next year, it was on and off traveling which made us really sit down to reassess our goals and priorities. We never planned on raising our kids apart and as a mom living with depression, being apart from my husband is harder than ever.
Now that we don’t have babies/toddlers, and our kids are at an age where they are adaptable and adventurous, I feel a change coming soon…
One thing I know for sure, is that we weren’t meant to raise our kids alone. It was extremely difficult when my husband was away the first year because I didn’t have the support that I needed.
In the next round this past year, I had established a loving village of people who were seeking a relationship with me and my children and proved that no matter how busy you are, you can make time for those you love. I was also inspired by my other half, Ashley, to learn how to care for myself on a deeper level and that has made a huge difference. I’ve been able to maintain some very close relationships and allow others to end those that were interfering with my mental health. I maintained a weekly dinner with a very close friend to offer her support while her husband was deployed. We started homeschooling and went to the library most weeks. We attended playdates, birthday parties and went on adventures. Etc. It amazes me how having the right support can help you live a fuller life. Because for the first year, we only went wherever necessary and for holiday functions. We barely went outside or did anything. And I never want to go back to that. So here’s to the next adventure.
GROWING UP WITHOUT A MOM
a life story
I grew up without my mom. It wasn’t my choice, it was hers.
When I was 9, my life altered completely. My mom, my brother (10) and I (9) got into a multiple roll-over car crash because she was high on drugs and wouldn’t let my brother and I stay home with our two older siblings.
I remember sitting in the back of an ambulance looking at my mom right behind us in a cop car holding her shoulder, crying, pleading, explaining. I stared at her just hoping she’d look at me so I could feel comforted but she never did.
The family who’s yard we landed in were extremely nice. They fed my brother and I cookies and helped us feel calm. The EMT’s did the same by showing us things in the ambulance.
My mom ended up with a broken collarbone, and I remember going back and forth between hospital rooms to check on them. That should have been the first sign that I'd be a mother hen growing up.
The next day, my dad picked me up for his weekend. Turns out we had family pictures scheduled with his wife at the time and no matter what they did, they couldn’t hide that half of my face was swollen from hitting the door when we rolled.
I’m not sure how long it was after the wreck because the timeline is something I get confused since I was only 9. But somehow I was allowed back with my mom. She came into my room and gave me a tote and told me to put everything I wanted into it and that my dad was coming to pick me up. I started packing toys. I was 9 after all and that’s all the instructions she gave me.
A little backstory, my 3 siblings and I all have different dads. And they are all older than me.
So little did I know we were all about to be doing the same thing. She was giving us up.
When I think back about how she didn’t say goodbye any differently. How she didn’t hug me any longer. How, knowing she was going to jail and probably not going to see me for a very long time, she barely took the time to say goodbye at all.
Over the next five years, she did have slight appearances in my life. As fleeting as they were, I enjoyed every second. During those years, I went to live with my dad who was definitely not prepared to have me full time. He became single, unstable and barely knew me. We moved almost yearly because we lived with his girlfriends mainly so when they broke up, we had to move again.
A couple years after I left my moms, I got my first supervised visit. She looked and acted a little different but I knew she was better. I still have the bear she gave me on that visit. The problem with these visits is that I'd have one and she’d disappear. It would be at least another year or two before I'd hear or see her again. It would always happen that way and she never said goodbye. One of the last supervised visits we had, I was 14. We went to her house for Christmas with all of my siblings and she overdosed on the couch. She was apparently taking medication but said she forgot that she had already taken it. We had to call her an ambulance. From that point on, my dad decided that the visits and contact with her had to end all together.
She ended up having a stroke when i was 17 and my dad’s wife at the time, ( I think she was #3) took me to visit her in the hospital. I had seen her a couple times after I moved out of my dads when I was 18. She looked worse every time but insisted she was better.
I got married when I was 19 and one decision I made was that I wanted my mom at my wedding. I knew time with her was fleeting because although she recovered well from her stroke, I knew she’d never stop with the drugs. She didn’t choose us when we were kids so there was no way that now we were all grown, she’d give it up. As hard as it is, you can’t spend your life trying to change someone or have them pick you. It will hurt you more in the end.
She came to my wedding and we made peace from the past. We hugged and stayed as close as possible that day. That was also the last time I saw her. & that was my choice.
I was ready to start my family and one thing I knew for sure was that I couldn’t allow her to be in their life while she was still choosing drugs. I had to make that decision for the sake of my kids. I don’t regret it.
I got married in September 2017.
She died in her sleep in December 2019.
She was 43.
She only lived half of her life.
I often reflect on her memorial. I think about how I sat there for an hour while our family got up one by one and talked about themselves. I know when this situation happens and it's hard to talk when their flaws outweigh all the good in their life but I sat there baffled at my family. I knew that if I got up there I'd either scream or cry and while I tried to tune out the BS, I thought about what I would say. I thought about how often she told me she loved me or how I was her favorite. Don’t worry, it was known. I was the baby. Everyone accepted it. I thought about how even still, when certain songs come on the radio, it pulls me back to riding in the car with her and singing along even though it was probably much too mature for me. Or going to Taco Town and getting Dr Peppers. Going to the grocery store where she would buy me a bag of pepperonis that I would have to eat all of before we got back because the others didn’t get anything. I thought about how she smelled and how I hope I never forget it. Her smile and how much she said I was her twin. How she made me chicken noodle soup that tasted better than anything i've ever had and how i'm 25 and still trying to figure out how she did it. How when I was at Wednesday night church and I missed her that she would find a way to get me home and we got some time alone together. How when I got scared at night, or any time of day and I could climb into her bed and she’d squeeze me tight. Sometimes I wish I would have stood up and said it all. But I doubt I could have gotten it out. It was hard enough typing it now.
I picture that mom when I think about how she’d be with my kids. How she would have been there in the delivery room hugging me and telling me how proud she is of me. How much my kids would love her and feel so special by her. How I could call her just to talk when I'm bored or upset. When I have good news or bad news that 'd be the first one to know. Calling her to come over just to binge a show that i'm into or to cook with me. I’m going to wrap this up because now I'm bawling and there’s no one here to hug me.
I don’t have regrets for the choices I made.
I’m so happy that I let her be at my wedding. I have that last happy memory with her.
I don’t regret not allowing her to meet my son or letting her be in his life. I stand by the standards I have set for my children.
That’s why even though my dad is alive, due to the choices he has made and the way he lives his life, he doesn’t hold a position in our lives.
I wish so many things though.
I wish she could have made better decisions.
I wish she had chosen us.
I wish she could be the grandparent that I hoped my kids would have. She would have been everything I dreamed of.
I wish I could call my mom when I’m struggling ro when I have to take my kids to the ER. Or when my depression is high and I need a hug. Or to have her chicken noodle soup when I'm sick.
I could go on for days. But I have to stop. Mainly because my anti-depressants can only do so much.
I'm also not a miracle story. I didn't gain unimaginable strength from my messed up childhood. I'm here to show you reality.
I am 25, struggling to get through life, un-guided and beginning to self isolate.
I have depression, anxiety, taking medication, seeking therapy, taking more supplements than my windowsill in my kitchen can hold, struggling with emotional eating, being overweight, and in the most mixed up drama I’ve ever experienced. (apart from the summer of 2017)
I’m on a journey to learn, heal and move on from my past. Here goes nothing.
