Diary of a Wimpy Kid (and by Kid, I Mean ME)

Greek Worry Beads
Greek Worry Beads

When I was little, I cried if anyone looked at me cross-eyed. I was scared of men with beards. And if someone laughed at me, I swear it scarred me for life. Since it was easy to make me cry, I was an easy target. Let’s be honest…I was probably super annoying.

I grew out of my fear of facial hair. Crossed eyes aren’t my undoing. And I can laugh at myself fairly often. But I never grew out of being really sensitive. And I have to be aware and careful of those sensitivities.

I (generally) can’t watch the news and will mostly stick to reading the headlines, if that. I avoid certain types of movies and TV shows and books. In fact, Sarah will often tell me about a new show she is watching or book she is reading, stop mid-sentence, and tell me I’m not allowed to watch or read whatever she’s talking about. Even Beezus will talk about something and say “Yeah, Mom…you can’t read/watch that.”

They are my parental-guidance-suggested in real life form.

There have been times, obviously, that I’ve let my guard down. I’ve watched movies that still haunt me. Or books that have burned images in my brain that I wish weren’t there. There are news stories that still wrench all of my guts.

I mean, yeah…I’m probably still really, super annoying.

And there are many times when I feel like a complete and total wimp.

I feel like my sensitivities are weaknesses.

Like I am weak.

But every once in a while, I have moments where I can recognize that God built me this way for a reason. When I can get past my frustrations of being a total weenie, I see the softness for what it is. I am hard-wired to be soft. And to feel.

Honestly, I was hoping that writing this out would maybe make me feel better. That I could recognize the lessons I’ve learned from being so open and so soft-hearted. Like maybe I could remember that soft doesn’t necessarily mean weak. And that maybe having a soft heart allows the love to get out easier.

But instead, I’m not even sure if I want to post this. I’m annoyed and worry that *I’m* annoying. And I haven’t even gotten to the point of what I wanted to say.

Ridiculous AND annoying.

Except for maybe I am the one who is missing the point. And maybe I’m not learning the lessons that I need to be learning. And that when my heart is breaking for friends or I’m sick with worry for another…that maybe I need to take this soft heart that I have and apply it to my damn self. Or maybe it’s a reminder to all of us to take care of ourselves and our health and well-being. Or that we all remember that life is short and to love our people.

I don’t know what I’m meant to or what I should say. Except that I’m truly sorry if you are hurting or sad or worrying or angry. And if there is a prayer or good thought or giant internet hug, I’m sending all that I have to you.

And maybe that’s my answer. That there is no point.

Just a whole lotta love headed your way.

Because that’s just how it’s supposed to be.

you saved me


I had visited your family the day I found out and had said nothing. I’m pretty sure we watched Bed of Roses so it was easy to keep quiet. Your mom knew something was up. I wasn’t myself. But I couldn’t say the words. Not yet. My parents had just found out earlier that day and I didn’t think I could handle telling you, too. I’m sure that I couldn’t have.

The next day, events as they were, I knew I needed to talk to you. I needed you to know from me. And you were one of the few people I told myself in those first days.

I have often wondered what you thought. I think I asked if you could come over after church. We ended up sitting on my parents’ bed. Probably so that my younger siblings wouldn’t bug us. I have no recollection of the words that I used, but somehow I told you that I was pregnant.

We were eighteen. And our two closest friends were away at school two states away. It occurs to me now that you stood in for both of them that day. You were my three closest friends in the whole world right there in that moment. And you were everything I needed my friends to be. You saved me. And you loved me…just as you always had.

But you saved me.

There was no judgment. No pity or anger or disappointment. And in a time where that’s all I seemed to get, you were the part of my memories that I held on to when my world kept crashing down over and over again.

Beezus shares your middle name because it’s the only name it could ever be. And she knows how her name came to hers. I honestly think it makes her proud.

And even though you knew that part of the story, and I know you know how much I love you, I wonder if you really know what you did for me all those years ago.

I don’t know why it took me so long to tell this part of my story. Maybe it just wasn’t the right time. Maybe I just had to tell the other stories first. I don’t know.

But you saved me.