Celebrating My Mother's 45th Birthday

I'm 22 years old. My mother would have been 45 years old, tomorrow. It's been over six years since I've seen my mother, since I've talked to my mother, since I've felt her arms around me. I can't remember her voice. I can't hear her laugh anymore. Did she laugh obnoxiously loud or was she the silent laugh with her hands kind? I have no idea if her eyes were completely brown or if they had a hint of green like mine do.  Was she just as bad of a singer as me? I couldn't tell ya.

Tomorrow's her birthday, I want to celebrate her but how am I supposed to do that when I can't remember anything about her? Why didn't I pay more attention to these things when she was alive? Why didn't I celebrate her then? I can't even tell you if I got her a gift for her last birthday. I have no idea if I saw her. I have no idea if I even wished her a happy birthday. But now that she isn't here with me, every year, there's a count down starting about a week or two before her birthday. Every year I plan exactly what I'm going to do - eat Reese's Cups and drink Mountain Dew because how much she loved them is something I do remember.

I don't know what kind of person can forget so much about someone who would call just about everyday to tell me she's so proud of me and how much she loves me. I know my brother and I were her world, we were her everything. And even though she was my world too, she was my rock, my strength, my supporter, my everything, I don't think I ever really took the time to let her know, to let her know just how much she means to me. That even though she made so many mistakes, her mistakes led me to my passion to help people who were dealt shitty cards in life. That if it weren't for her believing in me, I never would have believed in myself. From such a young age, she started a fire in my heart, a fire that burns with passion and with empathy to see every person's self worth, no matter their path in life.

When I was younger, about 10 years old, I remember telling my friends I love every person in the world and my friends would say "Even murderers? and people who rape other people?" and I would so innocently reply, "Yes." and my friends thought I was seriously messed up in the head. But it's because of my mother I felt such an innocent love for these people. I would tell my friends "Every person deserves love." And I remember this so clearly because my friends response was so opposite of what I was feeling and I couldn't explain it to them even though I so badly wanted to. My mom taught me that every person makes mistakes and the people we love so dearly may hurt us because of their mistakes but their mistakes say nothing about how much that person loves us and cares for us. And in my mind as a 10 year old, that meant to me, that just because someone harms others that doesn't mean that person should not be loved. My mom model this for me, showed me it really is possible to love those that harm us because despite those that had caused harm to her, including the man who shot her, she continued to love them and show them grace.

Everyday I work with parents who make mistakes that in turn affect their children and many people wonder "How could someone who loves their children so much do that to them?!" and I work with children everyday who are living in environments that don't have all the resources to allow them to succeed and reach their full potential. But I believe the reason why I can work with these family in such an optimistic way is because of the fire my mom ignited inside of me to see strength's in even the weakest people, in the families where you could easily justify giving up on them. Some  may call me naive but I call myself a true believer.

Imagine if people gave up on my mom, imagine if people gave up on me and my brother, but they didn't. And while my mother did ultimately lose her battle, she was able to be a large part of my life for 16 years. My brother is an Airman and I'm a social worker. There is light in even the darkest of places. You just have to be willing to search for it and once you've found it, don't stop until it's shining brighter than the black of the darkness.

I think where this post has lead me, without even me realizing it, is I may not remember the tiny details about my mom like her voice, her laugh but there's something that is just as important about her that I do remember. I remember the lessons she taught me. And the amount of love she was constantly pouring over me. I'll never forget the way she made me feel. Even in her darkest times, her laugh and smile would remind me that everything is okay, that she is okay, that I'm going to be okay. Her heart was so full of love and she was so good to the core that her voice and essence would always make me feel so safe. She would remind me to laugh at every situation because life's too short to be taken seriously.

Everyone makes mistakes, some big, some small, some that hurt those around you. But your mistakes don't define who you are. My mother is not defined by her meth addiction. My mother is defined by the amount of love she gave to those around her, by her strength to keep her own light inside of her shining, by the life lessons she taught to those around her, including her children, without even recognizing she was doing it, her selfless-ness, her goofy, up beat personality that reminded me life is still good no matter the amount of shit that's been dumped on you.

And most importantly, I believe my mother is defined by her children. And this is because, I feel my life, my choices, my career path show that my mother's life lessons are carried on through me. Because even though I don't remember what her singing sounds like, the fire she started in my heart, continues to burn and continues to grow.

So tomorrow when I celebrate my mother's birthday, I'll be enjoying a Reece's cup, a mountain dew but everyday I hope to celebrate her by spreading the amount of love she spread to me and those around her. That love is something that I will never forget.

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.

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I have always had a dream, to run away, to a new place far enough away that the "Wauters" reputation can't follow me or find me. Pack up my belongings, drive till the land turns blue, settle down and begin a new Wauters family tradition. Go to a place where when I'm asked who my mother is and my answer is "Denise Wauters" they won't automatically know that I come from that family and there isn't the reaction of "wait.. you're Denise's daughter? and you're doing this well for yourself?"

Don't get me wrong, I am not ashamed of my past. This dream of eloping isn't because I want to deny who I am and where I came from. I have my mother to thank for shaping me and molding me into the person I am today, I could never deny her. My dream isn't about running away from my past as much as it is about creating my own identify for myself. 

In some ways, I know I have already done this by achieving goals I have laid out for myself. But I can't shake my past. I don't know how to fit it into who I am today. 

For instance, I was transporting a client I work with to a doctor's appointment and during the drive we were talking and somehow we figured out that she knew my mother. She used to party with my mother and knew me when I was a little girl. And one thing she said during this conversation was "Wow, no one ever thought you would do anything." When I was in high school and college a comment like this would make me really proud.. I would think "That's right, I am not a statistic, I beat the odds." But now, I wish when people did find out about the past I overcame that my achievements wouldn't be about the fact that I overcame adversities. 

And I wish I could understand why I don't want it to be about my past anymore, but I absolutely don't. I wish I knew what I did want it to be about but I have no idea.

I mean.. for people who didn't have to overcome the adversities I did and they make the same achievements I did.. what do people say to them?

I am just so sick of hearing that I wasn't expected to do anything. Because really, it honestly hurts my feelings so much to know that at the age of 5, at the age of 8, at the age of 10 and whatever other age, I was already being casted as someone who wouldn't achieve anything. How can people make that judgement about someone who is so young and whose life hasn't even started yet?

Am I proud of the things I have accomplished? Without a doubt, 100%. Do I know my past has shaped me and lead me to my passions? Yes, there is no denying that. But I want to figure out a way to not have my past be so strongly embedded into me.

I don't know how to share my passions with people I have relationships with without sharing my past. Whenever I have a new relationship, I have a constant battle on knowing when and how or if I even should share my past because I know it's such a large part of who I am and without understanding my past, I don't feel like people can truly understand me. It makes things extremely complicated for me, like I'm going through a maze and I have no idea if sharing my past be the right turn to build the relationship or if it will lead me to a road block. My past isn't something I can tell just anyone but at the same time I have such a strong urge to tell people because I feel it's the only way they'll truly know who I am.

I hope for a day when someone can know me, really know me, without needing to know my past. But at this point in my life, if I am beginning a relationship with someone, I feel as though until they know of my past, they can't know me.

And it breaks my heart to know I am defined by my past. I want to be able to start fresh and just be me. Not the girl who overcame adversities. I hope my path of self discovery can lead me to that one day. And that each day I continue to take steps to create myself, to find out who I am so that one day, I can feel like even if someone doesn't know my past, it doesn't mean they don't understand me.

I really question myself on if that's really possible. All the reasons why I do what I do, why I have the passions and morals I do, why I love and receive love the way I do, is because of my past. I don't have the power to change my past or the way it has impacted me. And I know everyone's past has shaped them, it's not just me who is shaped by their past. But I have this really strong urge to want to have a separate identity from my past but I want it to still be an identify that is true to myself. I don't want to pretend to be somebody I am not.

This is something I am struggling with so much. This isn't my first post about my past being my identity and wanting to get away from it. I honestly wish I knew what to do here because I am stuck and I feel like I am banging my head on a wall because like I said, I can't change my past or it's affects on me. But my biggest desire right here, right now, is just feeling like someone can know me and more importantly, understand me, without knowing about my past. I wonder why that is something I want so badly. 

Newtown, Connecticut: May God Heal the Broken Hearted and Bind Up Their Wounds

Newtown, Connecticut  Most of us never even know this town excited. After yesterday, it's a solemn place no one can stop thinking about, praying about and sending their love to. My heart has been heavy ever since I heard it on the radio yesterday that at least a dozen elementary students were shot and killed (later to find out 20 children were killed). Everything about this event is unimaginably tragic and it hits so close to home with every parent, teacher, school administrator, friend and family member because this could have happened in any town, at any school.. to your child, your baby sister/brother, your friend.. I can't even begin to list the amount of ways this weighs on my heart, as well as the rest of America.

No one can tell you why this happened. And everyone has their own thoughts and opinions on what needs to be done to prevent these tragedies, that as Americans, we know all too well, from happening.  One piece of this that breaks my heart is the fact that shootings are all too common. We've seen them in schools, places of worships, malls, movie theaters  on the street corners and I've even seen one happen in my own home. This is where the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School starts to hit so close to me home for me.

I was only six years old when my mother was shot in our farm house right outside our small little town in the middle of Iowa while I was curled up in a box, under a table in the basement trying to hide with my cousins and my brother. I know what I lost that day. I was very fortunate that I did not lose my mother but I lost my simple idea that our world is safe. And that monsters only live in our closets and under our beds but are easily scared away by having our mommies and daddies check for them.

I weep for the children who did lose their lives that day as well as for the children who now have first hand experience that world is not all good, that there are people out there who want to hurt others and who are capable of hurting others. This is a fact of life children should not have to learn at such a young age.

I have many fears about the affect this event will have on our country as well as the families directly involved and affected by the shooting, but one fear that I have is that the children who were traumatized that day, more than a lot of people ever will be in their life, won't get the help they need and will never feel safe again.

After my mom was shot, I haven't ever felt completely safe since that day. I'm 22 years old and I still have to sleep with a night light on as well as sound on but I can't have the sound from my TV be too high because then I won't be able to hear if someone is in my house. I can't walk by windows at night because I'm terrified someone is lurking outside waiting for me to walk by so they can shoot me through the window. Anytime I see someone start to show even a little aggression when they are drinking (my mom's shooter was an alcoholic as well as a drug addict), I immediately think they are really going to try and hurt someone. I feel that way anytime I see a fist raise or even a voice begin to yell because I know a fight that starts off as a normal fight, can end in tragedy. The man who shot my mom, I loved him a lot. He was my father-figure during the time my mom was in a relationship with him and he provided for me, hugged me, made me laugh and told me he loved me. I now live with the fear that someone I love dearly and who loves me, can hurt me really badly if ever pushed to that point.

I can't say exactly how the child survivors will be affected, because each person responds differently. Some children will be horribly affected for a little while but will be able to work through it, some children may be affected their whole lives. And then there will be children all in between there. But in one capacity or another, every single child will be affected. Many may never feel safe in a school again. If they were hiding in the bathroom with their classmates and teacher, every time they walk into a bathroom, it may remind them of this tragic day.

Knowing what I have gone through because I lived through my mom's finance coming to our farm house and shooting my mom then killing himself when I was there, it absolutely breaks my heart that these children have to live through a similar, unfathomable, tragic, horrendous, life changing event and will forever be affected.

Their innocence and belief that the world is a safe, happy place and you live until your 100 years old is gone. And can never be restored. That is what truly what is weighing my heart so far down. I pray that every child and every person traumatized by this gets the help, support and love they need to come out on the better side of this.

RIP To All The Children Who Received Their Wings Way Too Soon and To All The Adults Whose Lives Ended Before It Was Time <3

To every single person who has been affected, remember "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."

The Outsider, The Exception

The more I start to learn about my family and other people I know who have grown up similar to have.. I'm starting to feel like I'm the exception rather than the rule.

Growing up with a single, drug addicted mother and in and out of foster homes.. yet I've never tried any drugs other than alcohol and I've graduated college. Everyone else I know who had the same or similar up bringing to me, have at least tried drugs once, sold drugs, are addicted to drugs and didn't go to a four year school.

I'm not bringing this up to brag. I'm bringing this because why is that I have to be an exception? Why can't I be the rule? What happens to these children to make them turn to drugs to get through life? What happens to them that they lose sight of college or making any long term goals? Where was it that they slipped through the cracks? And why didn't it happen to me?

I've learned a lot the past few weeks about my family. Information I never would think to be true. And it's nearly impossible for me to wrap my mind around. They know drugs are bad. In multiple ways, yet they're still involved with them somehow. Or even tried them. 

Lately, I've been around drugs a lot more than I can remember since I've become detached from a lot of mom's family. And I've been experiencing the weirdest.. what's the word.. cravings? curiosity? about drugs.. ya know.. what's it like to get high? to do some molly? what's it like to trip on mushrooms? I bet I'd like it or so I hear. 

I've been trying to process these thoughts because these are thoughts I've never endured before in my life. When I think about it.. almost every other person I know who had drugs so embedded in their childhood, never got out of that lifestyle. They lived with parents who did drugs up until they were 18. They were in consistent contact with other family members who abused drugs. The friends they had were drug users. The lifestyle of drugs was constantly surrounding them.

What makes me different than the other people I know is I got out of that lifestyle when I was 8 years old, when I went to live with my dad. My dad didn't use drugs. We went to "normal" family reunions that were filled with love and laughter. Drugs were no longer in my everyday life. Was I still affected by them? Absolutely. My mother was still a meth addict. But I wasn't with her everyday being dragged through that lifestyle. I was living in a completely drug free environment.

So maybe, the more you are around it, the more "normal" and "acceptable" it becomes and when kids of drug addicts say "It's all I've ever known" they really mean that. When mad, sad, upset or even happy.. the way you deal with it is through doing drugs. The way you make your money is through selling drugs. The way you make friends is by getting high together. So, why wouldn't that child grow up not having the idea that drugs are bad? Do pretty much all kids of drug addicts experience trauma and are affected negatively by drugs while growing up? Yes, it's unavoidable. But.. it's still just... normal.

If I didn't move in with my dad when I was 8, I really have no clue where I'd be right now. As much as I loved my mother and all the times I cried because I wanted to live with her, it really was a blessing that I was lucky enough to experience a new life. While being raised around drugs has made me into the person I am today, being able to live, grow and shape in a drug-clean environment allowed me to prosper. 

And I know I'm not the only exception out there.. And I'm not saying all people who do pot or other drugs are bad or unsuccessful.. I just can't help but wonder why I am so different than the other people I know. I'm not better than them. I'm not smarter than them. I'm not anything more than them. I'm different.. and I'm the outsider.

I hope that with my career choice, I can make a difference. Make a difference so that the exception becomes the rule. 

Wide Awake

Waking up is never usually a pleasant thing, at least for those of you who are like me and aren't a morning person or even an 11am person. You're groggy, tired and all you want to do is lay your head back down on your big fluffy pillow and curl back up, no matter how many hours of sleep you got.

Today, waking up was worse than that. Today, it wasn't my alarm clock that woke me up or a storm.

Today, I woke up from the same jolt of the same lightening bolt that hit me for the first time on November 2, 2006.

I was dreaming about my mom. My mom was sleeping on her bed and I was just standing there waiting for her to wake up (my mom would often sleep for days at a time when she was coming off meth). I was so angry with her because I couldn't understand how she was sleeping through everything, I just wanted her to wake up and spend time with me and my little brother.

When my mom finally did wake up after what felt like weeks in my dream, I went over to her bed and laid with her. I could feel her. I remember seeing her smile that lit up the room. And as I was laying next to her, I knew this moment wasn't going to last. I knew we had a very short time together. I held her tight and cried on her chest that I wish she wouldn't go. Then I beckoned my brother over and told him to tell mommy really good things for her to remember.

It was at this point I woke up. All the feelings I had of that initial shock of her dying rushed over my body with a great amount of force and speed. Before I could even open my eyes to realize I was now awake, the tears started pouring out. I felt like I had lost her..again.

I'll never understand why I lost my mom when I was 16. I can't imagine God needed her more than I did, more than I still do. You do your best to manage after you lose a mom. To find a new normal of life. You go on, doing everyday things which feel nearly impossible to do at first. Then one day, you realize.. you're doing okay and the day-to-day things aren't so hard anymore. And you feel a sense of hope.

But before you know it, you get hit by a freight train of the loss, the grief, the anger, the denial and suddenly, a task that you do everyday, like waking up, sends you flying back to the beginning.

And the worse part about all of this, is after I move on from what happened today and start to feel normalcy again, that same damn freight train is going to come back around.

Today is going to be a hard day. It's going to be hard a few weeks. November 2, 2012 will be six years since my mom has died. But while that train may come around more often during this time, I've gotta keep walking with my head held high or I'll never make it out alive.

Mother Daughter Talks

Naturally, being a girl, I dream a lot about my wedding day. What dress will I wear? Who will my bridesmaids be? The face my soon-to-be-husband will have when he sees me for the first time as I walk towards him. But unfortunately, there's one thing I used to dream about that will never come true.

I always wondered what my mother would say to me on my special day. What advice she'll have for me. Seeing her cry because her little girl is all grown up. And I can hear her now talking about how sexy my husband is and how she wish she could've snapped him up first and of course, meaning it in the most loving way.

It's hard to come to terms with the fact that I won't get to have any of that.

Losing my mom was really hard but what comes with losing her, is losing all of those things a mother and daughter are supposed to do together. Most mother and daughters fight like crazy during the teenage years. The daughter doesn't think the mom will ever understand and all the mom wants to do is stop her daughter from making the same mistakes she did. My mom and I definitely got that part of the mother daughter relationship.

The part we never got to experience, is when the daughter grows older and wiser and transitions into a woman. It is during this time, when they begin to repair their relationship. They can begin to talk woman to woman. They develop a completely new understanding of each other. Stay up late, drinking wine (in my case, it would be Moscato) talking about what it means to be a woman, the love they are falling in and out of, the past they've learned from and the future they hope for.

I was 16 when she died and while I learned a lot from her mistakes even though I was so young, I never had the opportunity to sit down and understand why she was telling me about the mistakes she made. She was only 38, with such a lifetime ahead of her, and I'll never know what she hoped to do with her future. Although, I imagine it would be to continue loving me and my brother and becoming a grandmother one day.

If I could have her back for a whole day, all I'd want to do is take time to appreciate the opportunity to have a mother daughter talk but I'd want her to do all the talking. I've talked enough over the last five and a half years.. I want nothing more than to hear what she'd say back to me.

The Outcast

I graduated from college a little over three weeks ago. I have a job working with children who have mental health and psychological problems. With having reached two major accomplishments recently I've been thinking a lot about where I come from, where I am and where I'm going.

Family is one of the most important things in my life and without them I have no idea where I'd be. But as I reminisced over the last few years of my life since my mom died, I've began to realize something.

I could not be more proud of myself but making my dreams come true has come at a price. And that price is my mom's side of the family.

I've completely shut out aunts, uncles and cousins because of their meth addiction and their involvement with drugs. It's not that I don't love them and aren't happy to see them the seldom times I do but they are not the kind of people I want to have consistently in my life because of the lifestyle that comes with their drug use. They're unpredictable and only care about one thing - getting high. When I do see them it often includes asking for rides, money or other resources they need to obtain drugs. It's constant fighting with each other. And nearly every time they are high. In no way is there the support or love a family is supposed to provide. No good time memories made. And I just do not have time for that.

My family is a drug family. Their bonds and relationships are through drugs. They've either done drugs together, sold drugs together or both. And this is a bond I will never share with them, a bond I will never understand. Whether they've done drugs together for 20 years or they only tried it once together and haven't tried drugs since, drugs are so embedded into my family and that's a part of my family I am not involved in.

In no way do I believe I am better than my family members who have a past or current involvement with drugs. In no way do I love them less because of it. It just breaks my heart that I feel so disconnected from them because I know where I want kind of life I want to have and my family members with severe drug use aren't in my life. It destroys me inside to know the one thing that connects nearly each of my family members together pushes me away from them.

If I could have just one wish come true it would be that I could have a family that could be involved in supporting me and helping me achieve my dreams. A family that I could trust to be right there by my side every step of the way. A family I felt like I belonged to.