Let it Breathe
On choosing presence over explanation, and why I'm done justifying our lives
I’m so glad you’re here! Whether you’re a free subscriber or a paid supporter, Tiffy, In Bloom is a space where I can share my journey of growth, vulnerability, and storytelling.
For all of my free subscribers: Every post here is open to you. I share my stories, my reflections, and my truth because it matters to me that this space is welcoming and accessible. Your presence is enough.
For my paid subscribers: Your support means more than words can express. Not only are you helping to honor the work I’m doing here, but your subscription also plays a pivotal role in supporting my son’s communication journey. The funds you contribute go directly toward resources and tools that empower him to connect with the world around him. Every time you subscribe, you’re becoming a part of this deeply personal path we’re walking together.
Thank you for seeing me, for supporting this space, and for helping us bloom.
I keep starting this one and then backing out. Today, I am going to commit to the share. I can’t do anything else unless I push this one out from my head.
I did a presentation last Friday. It was the first time I had ever tackled the topic of Adaptive Masking. And everything that could go wrong, went wrong. Two nights prior, I made the decision to switch cell carriers and did it all online. I do NOT recommend this. Long story short, when we ported our numbers over, that cut access to our lines. This took some time to rectify and a trip to the store of our new carrier to get it sorted out. I was worried because THIS was my backup plan for this presentation: using my phone.
And the reason I needed a backup plan at all was because my internet decided to work like shit. And by “like shit,” I mean, NOT AT ALL. So, we had to schedule someone to come out to fix it. They came FRIDAY MORNING. The day of my presentation, and it was go time at 12:30pm. Here I was, sweating bullets, on the phone with my manager, who was trying to get the folks to push back the start time a bit.
They pushed it back 30 minutes. So, I could start at 1pm. The internet was eventually restored around five minutes til, and this meant I couldn’t print out my notes. Thankfully, I was able to send over my slides and handout prior to my internet going dead on me. But once I logged on, it was technical difficulty hell. And I don’t even feel like going through all of that. I didn’t get started on my presentation until 1:15pm. A full 45 minutes after I was supposed to start. And with a brand new presentation that I didn’t know if I liked or not.
Once I finished, I took questions. There were many awesome questions but one stood out to me and it was a question about Spelling. I had mentioned that Aidan is learning spelling and while it wasn’t part of the presentation, I did open that door a bit when giving some background on my children.
This person was genuinely curious about what it was because they had heard of it before but wasn’t quite sure they had a good handle on it. Or any handle at all.
And I noticed that when I shared about it, I OVERSHARED. I knew it the moment I finished talking. I didn’t like that I did. I talked too much. It felt more than explaining it, it felt like I was trying to convince the room of my son’s participation. It was as if I was giving all these details to show that it was worthy and that my son was worth the effort. It is and he is. But I didn’t like it.
I told myself some time ago that I wasn’t going to explain my son doing Spelling. I just wasn’t. I was going to leave all the stats, data, legislative pushes, policy changes, etc. to those organizations who have taken the lead in getting Spelling out there. I have so much on my plate already, that I just want to learn how to be his CRP (communication regulation partner) and help him to spell his thoughts. That’s all I want to be. I want to share parts of this journey without providing a justification for it.
That’s the road that I am on. Occasionally, I will pull off to address something that I feel to be so out of pocket that it needs to be snubbed the fuck out, but for the most part, I ain’t trying to convince nobody of Spelling in my son’s life.
This thinking carried over into the book I am writing. I am sitting firmly at 88,400 words right now. I am running through and trimming what needs to be trimmed but I’m self-publishing it, I can do what the hell I want. And I might keep it all. Haven’t decided yet. That isn’t the point here, the point is that I initially wrote this book, full of moments, stories, letters, and poems, with little “behind the pen” sections. And these would describe what was going on in several pieces. It was explaining what was shared. It would give you a tour of the piece. It would break it down and then build it back up. And while I thought this was a pretty neat thing to do. Giving a behind the scenes look into the structure of a poem or letter. I didn’t like it.
I just needed what I wrote to land and give nothing else. Because I don’t want to explain my presence, or that of my sons. I don’t want to justify their existence or my own. We are already here, living the lives we already do, and I want to tell you about it. But I don’t want to explain or justify or convince. I just want our story to breathe. So, it is enough to give it air. To let it live in the open.
And some might not understand. Some might feel some kind of way, like it isn’t finished or enough. Some might want to me to sit in a teacher’s place, educate them on what is going on in our lives. Some might want to debate our journey.
But why would I live by the demands of “some,” when I struggle with living by my own?
So, there are many things I won’t explain. Many things I won’t justify or try to convince someone of.
My son’s Spelling journey is one of those things.