i want to retreat. into a book. a movie. a daydream. some other country. i want to leave my tired grumpy self somewhere (behind!) and return to the sun side. i just checked flight prices online and cleaned my bathroom. all in an attempt to shake this…this ick. i don’t know if it’s the weather: grey and slushy and unseasonable warm. or the great effort of being a mama. or knowing terrible things are going on all around this planet.
i’m just not sure what do to with the pain.
i have been avoiding crying. i watch myself. i watch the feeling rise to my cheeks. and i can feel that burning. and i push it away. not now. no tears now. even now i am tight and tired. i am finally alone. no one calling me to wipe their bottom or spell a word. no one wanting a glass of water. and i think shit. i am SO lucky. why am i feeling unlucky. so i feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself; guilty for wanting help. i feel guilty and frustrated that i can’t do it all alone all the time.
that is the kicker. i am ridiculously independent. fiercely.
being a mother is hard. that is what i am feeling these days. being a mother is hard. and i am struggling with that. there is this line in my head. this wire on which i balance between recognizing the beautiness in my life: call it luck, privilege, ease; and acknowledging the challenges in my life…the most prominent one at this time is solo flying with my girls.
i love them. they are wild and beautiful creatures. they stretch me to my max. (and beyond!) i love the look of them. their eyes. the way they look at me. piercing. i love their wit. they are quick. quirky. they are creative. and full. full of what my mother might call vim and vigor.
i do not enjoy their sisterly squabbles. they can be painfully hostile. they can be ugly with each other. we can all be ugly with each other. and i don’t like it. it pains me. the fighting eats me up. i am not peaceful in the midst of the fight. nor am i calm in the face of their demanding whining voices. especially when i’m tired. and i am still being woken up a number of times a night.
i am still being skilled in the fine art of balance. you. me. we. me and two. us three. me again. you there. us.
i almost WANT to do it all alone. it’s like i have something to prove (hmmm.. could it be that old story…the one about not being good enough!) i almost want to do it ALONE. if i did i could say look…look at me…i did this big thing all alone. how amazing is THAT! i ALMOST want to do it alone. but not quite. not quite. so there is this little crack. this little crack where i have wanted to ask for help. this little crack where i have been forced to ask for help. and in that opening i have found the sweetness. the blessing of receiving. and strangely even the sweetness is not always easy to take.
here, in this little crack, i have found the blessing of friends and family. the blessing of people who pull me into their hearts. sweet people in this town like nadine and ryan who take my children on saturday mornings at 6:30am so i can have a booth at the farmer’s market. people like mireille who adjust their lives to make mine more easeful. people like tanya whose kitchen love tonight soothed my soreness. people like matthew who love me even when i’m sad, and tired, and longing for the family i once had.
through this little crack i am slowly letting in the gifts. and they are to be shared. as i see it there are many joys and many sorrows. i am blessed to be surrounded by people who receive my stories: my grief, my fears. they help cradle my heart because sometimes it feels too heavy to hold alone.