Finding Ninee » Sharing our parenting and special needs stories with heart and humor.

I Used To Be Invincible

I used to know everything. Or, at least, I thought I knew everything I needed to. About myself, about life. I knew what love looked like. Intense highs and lows were ingredients of passion and being truly seen.

I used to be invincible. I dove from planes, got in cars with people I’d just met, and beckoned vampires in a graveyard in the middle of the night. I played with life and love and my future, sure of things staying fine. Once, I even slayed a dragon. Ok, not a really real dragon, but I slayed dragons of self-doubt, and have lived grand adventures. These days, I worry about sinkholes, that my family will die when I travel without them, and that there might be lice on the toilet paper at the airport.


It’s fascinating to reflect back on what we used to be oh-so-sure of and not-so-sure of. Our righteousness in knowing that once we have children, they’ll never misbehave in a restaurant or the grocery store. We’ll never yell or be impatient. Ha! In youth, we’re confident we have enough time to do everything we’ll ever want, and to remake ourselves as often as we like.

I used to be invincible, and knew everything. Oh, the things I used to know…

For a time, I figured past relationships don’t matter, and promises whispered by candlelight meant forever. Each connection does matter though. Every relationship and whispered promise shape us and make us and build us into what we’ll become, sometimes by tearing us into pieces. Now-me is grateful for past hilarity, troll dolls, mountains, beaches, songs, magic, and goofiness. Each experience with another infused me with a belief in childhood magic. Anger, insecurity, and walking away infused me with wisdom and power.

Before realizing we don’t mold our children by sheer will and desire, I thought I’d have the power to make it so my son doesn’t experience my insecurity or shyness.

I knew I’d live forever (I used to be invincible, after all), but figured it was better to die young. Now, I wish time would stand still for a little while. That I’ll remember my little boy when I am old. I hope to know my son as a middle aged man. I hope to meet my grandchildren and tell them funny stories about their dad, and how he once called airplanes “ninees” and water “ah.” How we’d worry whether he’d speak, and joke with them about how sometimes, he goes on for hours about whatever replaces Legend of Zelda in the year 2059.

When I was young, a witch lived under my bed. She could move as much as I did, in either direction, so I had to be careful to not wiggle so much that she’d be able to free herself from captivity. For years, I knew witches aren’t real, until a big, stupid, orange one moved into the White House, and doesn’t care about people moving or playing human at all. The witch wants laws equivalent to burning young girls, women, and brown people at the stake. This is one thing I’d like to unknow.

I’ve spent too many hours and days worried what people think of me, and hid pieces of myself. I still catch myself doing this, but now know that people’s opinions of me only matter to them. At least, I know this intellectually. Knowing-knowing will take more time.

Today, in looking at things I used to know, I understand that the point of living is to live. To love. To hurt. To grow. To be able to look ourselves in the mirror and meet our gazes with more than resignation. To meet our gazes with power, content, and occasional hard-won peace.

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This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post, with the prompt “I used to think (and no longer do).

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  • Janine Huldie - Kristi, I can do relate and spent part of last night reflecting a bit about how when I was younger I totally thought I was invincible. Ironically, it all started a few days ago with me cleaning some of the files on my computer as I was getting a low storage alert. Long story short I opened a video file I had forgotten I had saved a few years ago from a video cassette that my brother had gotten off the old home movie video and converted for me. It was from Christmas time when I was in high school. My grandparents were in the video alive, Happy and well. I saw it was like I couldn’t breathe for the 5 minutes of video footage as I watched it. But afterwards, I most certainly reflected on what seemed like another lifetime ago. In then long run I must say I only wish I knew then what I know now if that makes sense.May 16, 2019 – 8:20 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - That makes perfect sense, my friend. The reflections on past moments are gut-wrenching, and also uplifting. I so wish I knew then what I know now! It’s hard to appreciate what’s happening while it’s happening. Like, when our kids were babies, it felt endless and sleepless, and now? OMG I’d so love to carry baby Tucker around again. Here’s to us being as present as possible, and also knowing that we’re going to miss moments even as they happen. <3
      OMG it'd be so cool for you to link up your grandparent's post I remember reading! They were so involved in your life... xoxoMay 16, 2019 – 8:56 pmReplyCancel

  • Dana - This makes me think about all the things our kids think they know…sometimes I catch myself wanting to tell them they won’t always think that way, or say “just wait until you’re older…”

    But hindsight is 20/20, and with age comes reflection, and as you say, ” to meet our gazes with power, content, and occasional hard-won peace.” I’m trying to do that, too.May 17, 2019 – 11:27 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - It’s funny because I was actually planning on going there, with the things Tucker is oh-so-sure of now. The things my step daughter thinks she knows, and thought she knew in high school, but, as so often happens, it went in another direction (in part because even for me, I had too little time – Robert was supposed to take Tux to cub scout graduation an hour and 1/2 before this went live and then had to work… Here’s to us meeting our gazes with love, too, for who we used to be and are and will become.May 17, 2019 – 8:21 pmReplyCancel

  • SpecialMomma - I love the flow of your writing, how you string words together so seamlessly. I’m just glad that I found you and that our paths crossing helped shaped both of us. Yes, relationships really do matter. You’ve given me the courage to speak up, and a safe place to be vulnerable. And that has changed me, my friend.May 17, 2019 – 7:35 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - That’s so kind! I thank you! I’m glad our paths crossed too, and helped shape us and our amazing kiddos. And I’m really happy that you’re feeling like you’re speaking up more and that you have a safe place to be vulnerable. That’s HUGE. xoxoMay 17, 2019 – 8:25 pmReplyCancel

  • Tamara - Such a somber thing but I remember my sister used to tan all day long. We’d warn her that when she turned 40 her skin would look like leather and she said, “Well, I don’t plan to live that long anyway.” Sheesh! She just turned 40 and has two kids three and under and plans to live long now.
    I miss those feelings of invincibility. It’s like I thought I was a chosen person and bad things couldn’t and wouldn’t happen to me. Even though they did with my father’s untimely death so maybe I thought the worst had already happened and I was owed smooth sailing after that.May 18, 2019 – 12:15 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I used to tan all day too when I was 17. I wish I’d never have gone there, so badly. I really didn’t plan to live this long but OMG so so glad I have, you know? I love the invincibility feelings. I miss them too. Now I worry I’m just afraid all the time, which is dumb but also makes sense to part of me.
      Also? In my opinion, you DO deserve nothing bad happening forever. I know how much your dad’s death affected all of these thoughts and wish you lived next door so I could give you a big hug and a bowl of sprinkles.May 19, 2019 – 8:53 pmReplyCancel

  • Allie Smith - It’s so true that we don’t have the power to mold our children’s anxiety. I see so much of my anxiety in Hunter and my youngest – and Audrey has all my impatience. God bless them!

    Miss you and enjoyed reading your words.May 19, 2019 – 6:34 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - It IS true but also doesn’t it feel true? Like we wishing for it means it won’t affect them or something? And Audrey. Please tell me you’re doing a road trip. I’d so love to see all of them and YOU again soon. I miss you.May 19, 2019 – 8:54 pmReplyCancel

  • Kenya - This is a powerful sentence, “To be able to look ourselves in the mirror and meet our gazes with more than resignation.” It definitely gave me pause.

    OMG lice on toilet paper. Is that a thing???May 20, 2019 – 5:44 amReplyCancel

  • Christine Carter - SO many brilliant words in this piece, Kristi. I think you depict the revelations and transformations of us all, really. And that last paragraph was PROFOUND.May 28, 2019 – 5:31 amReplyCancel

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