31 Jul Sentimental Much?

These baby plastic seats have almost undone me. My youngest was playing with them roughly and I asked her to please stop because… they mean a lot to me. Can you imagine?! I was taken aback as to why I would tell my 3-year-old that when the seats are clearly hers and her big sister’s. But it hurt me seeing her being rough with them. I am not a sentimental human being; I give away things that are deemed as keepsakes without a second thought. I gave away all my first baby’s clothes and had to buy a new wardrobe for my second when she could have used them. I throw away medication packaging as soon as I get to my place and then call the pharmacist/doctor to ask for the correct prescription because they wrote it on the carton. I would definitely give away my wedding dress as I gave away all my pregnancy wear and had to start afresh with my second pregnancy. I most possibly could be enchanted with the prospect or idea of starting anew. The magic of, ‘The start of something new.’

Back to the plastic seats. It’s the memory they invoked that made me react as strongly as I did. The first house we moved to when I decided to walk away from it all, did not have a single piece of furniture in it. On the first day, I sat on the floor with my babies. We ate on the floor, with no table or chairs…definitely no couch. We did not have a bed either. Because my eldest was in school, I bought a table and then a plastic seat, for her to eat her meals and do homework more efficiently. Her little sister, then at 6 months, got enamored with the toons on big sister’s chair and I had to get another. Because I could not get the same, I had to settle for an identical color. She did not seem to mind. When the big sister was in school, the little sister played with her seat.

The sentiment surrounding these seats, I kind of understand, but I did not expect it to be this strong. They remind me of where I have come from. I have moved nearly 6 times with these seats and they have not given up mid-move and broken down on me despite them being plastic. A basin gave out from all the squishing at some point. In our new place, we have not had to use them because we now have a couch and a dining table but today my little one brought them out from the kitchen and decided to play with them, and man, oh, man…it hurt. I wipe them down and keep them clean even though they are not in use…it made me think I might not be as un-sentimental as I thought. Maybe I let things and people go because I feel they do not want or need me.

I love to be needed, my first love language is Acts of service, if I documented what I did for my former intended, y’all would be floored. It’s also a toxic trait from all the trauma I have experienced but we are who we are. Right now, reciprocating energy is where I am at… I still fall back into known patterns. But what I do not let myself get drawn into, is the jail of old times. I might visit that land unintentionally but I will not intentionally stay there. I do not negotiate with hostages, I hear them out, speak my part…then walk out. Chin held high, fingers trembling, scratch that, whole body trembling, but I still stick to the appointed trajectory…due North.