Hindsight

Hindsight is always 20/20.

Isn't that how that old saying goes?

And, it is.

This past year has been one of the hardest and yet most rewarding years I have ever had. And yet in hindsight, I can see more clearly the things that I did right, and the ones where I failed miserably.

The hardest part of hindsight is realizing with perfectly clarity what role you played in everything; especially when you are finally able to see with those new, open eyes.

I can see those roles very clearly now.

Professionally -- if you can call what I do a profession-- I had copious amounts of success.

My blog(s) grew by leaps and bounds. They were featured in three different newspapers and on KSL Radio.  I was interviewed by The Mormon Channel for a podcast (that still hasn't aired) and worked on several focus groups with my church.  I hosted a crazy successful blogging conference where people from all over the country came.

Completely 100% rewarding and successful with regards to my chosen hobby.

Personally? My life was sort of falling apart at the seams.  I was trying my best to keep from drowning.  Most of the time it felt like only one nostril was out of the water. Some days I wondered if I had a straw in that nostril so I could breathe because I felt like I was drowning.

My marriage went through some pretty serious obstacles and I really wondered if we would make it. I think Jefe did, too.  It was rocky, rough and just plain miserable.

More often than not, I would send the kids off to school and then I would curl up into a ball in my room and cry the ugliest cry I could muster. The Ugly Cry is a cleansing cry and sometimes it just makes you feel better. Then, I would pull up my boot straps and get to work.

I felt so torn and conflicted because my hobby was taking off and I was finally making money doing what I completely loved. And yet my home life was in a shambles. I think I worked so hard at my blog and the conference so that I could just forget about what was happening at home.Or not happening.

At least that's what my therapist told me.

I kind of quit going to church there for a while, too. 

It was just too painful for me to go and hear all these people shouting praises for their families, their spouses and their miraculously conflict free, peaceful, kumbaya  lives. I didn't feel like I had that "happily ever after" that was promised me if I would just get married in the temple.

In hindsight it's not because it wasn't there-- it was because I couldn't see it. I was so busy looking for everything I didn't have that I neglected to see what I did have. 

There is, however, a silver lining to this completely depressing post:

We made it.

We're still here; we're still together and we're not going anywhere.

Unless it's to Disneyland as a family.

Looking back over this last year I can see how I grew because of the trials Jefe and I were having.

I can see how I have changed, for the better, because of those trials and I can see perfectly where I was wrong. I'm not foolish enough-- anymore-- to think that our problems were all his problems.  I can see that there is my side, there is his side and the truth lies somewhere in between.

I can see that the way my "professional" life exploded was a Tender Mercy from the Lord because it not only helped me get out of bed every single day, but it gave me the confidence in myself that I had been lacking.  I did not believe I was capable of accomplishing anything-- let alone what actually did occur. 

I now know that not only can I do it, but I can do it well.

The experiences from this past year have taught me that I can do hard things. No matter what they are-- I have it in me to do hard things.

That is another Tender Mercy. 

In hindsight I know with certainty the things I would do differently from these past couple of years; the people I would not trust and what things I would refrain from saying.  I also know that there are things I can look at and say "I'm glad I did that. I don't regret it one single bit."

And that, I guess, is what hindsight is all about.

Seeing. Changing. Growing.