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  • Writer's pictureRebecca Waddell

Hard Things

Yes, that is kind of a gross picture to post with my blog, but this message comes through my fingers with the permission of my fourteen-year-old daughter. That is a picture of a hole in her earlobe that got infected. It’s healed now, but it hurt. She dealt with it and it was hard to cause pain in order to handle something unhealthy in order to restoring to health, to heal it.

No, I’m not going to be talking about her ear here. I’m showing you a physical wound because I can’t take a picture of her incredibly generous and strong metaphorical heart. After eights months in her first dating relationship, she spoke with her friends and several long conversations later, she decided that the relationship had come to a place that it was unhealthy for her. Simply put, he wanted her to dress differently and act in a way that is not her style or who she is or how she is comfortable. 

If you’re thinking it’s something sexual, it’s not. That’s far too normal for my family. It was quite different. Though I’m pretty sure the fact they live three time zones apart was a huge factor in keeping that from becoming a thing. Maybe not. My daughter knows who she is and I back her up in knowing what she wants and not caving to external pressures that come at her all day and night that make her internal landscape a hard place to live.

Anyway. While I was at work, on the last Friday of summer before going into high school, my oldest initiated her first break up. And yes, she loves him. Of course she does. She’s fourteen and he will always be her first boyfriend. I would have to say I am proud of her for deciding who she is has to be good enough for who wants to be with her. If they want her to be different, why are they dating her? They should find the person who already does what they want to mold her into. Let me tell you all that this kid came out born molded and is only growing and refining the amazing, sweetheart I have the privilege of Momming.

He didn’t take it well. 

He really didn’t take it well. 

At all.

Had I or my husband been home, I don’t know if she would have acted on her own to the picture she got of him holding a knife to his neck and saying he was gone if she didn’t give him a second chance.

Did I mention he didn’t take it well?

Yeah, he really didn’t.

In the hour between me talking to my daughter on the phone about the breakup and promising hugs and ice cream when I got home, my fourteen-year-old was presented with a suicide threat from her first love. I don’t know many adults who would handle that situation well. 

She didn’t pause. She called the police in his home state and sent them to check on him. She didn’t take the blame for him putting her in that situation, but sent the people who’s job it is to take care of emergencies and waited anxiously to hear back that things were okay. 

Take a minute guys. 

Do I have to even begin to tell you my kid is my hero. Like this teen girl is flat out beautiful and loving and sweet and caring, and she is my freaking hero for being and doing all that she did that day.

Oh, are you wondering what happened?

Okay, yeah. He is okay. They got him some help. And guess what, my daughter is still his friend. They are still close, but not dating. My daughter is my hero and her ear is healed too. Don’t compromise who you are when you know it isn’t the right thing. I hope you can learn from my daughter. She is AWESOME.

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