Moment I can’t be in🙄.

Why is it so difficult to be in the moment. I just want to be doing what I’m doing without my mind wandering everywhere. The only time I can truly invest and be is when I become a kid with my kids. When I’m not just watching them race in the pool, I’m racing them too. When I’m not ohhing and ahhing over their water slide tricks but I’m on that water slide too. Watching from the sidelines never does me any favors. So can someone take all this left over sadness. Take the worry and hurt. Can someone take away the anxiety and just let me be. I just want to be.

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Tucks & Love

The nights are always more intense. When things are good and when things are bad. It’s like the darkness intensifies the emotions inside.

I check on my children every night before crawling in my own bed. I kiss their precious little heads. I re-tuck them and return their stuffedees that have fallen on the floor. I hurt for them as I know they want more. They want both their parents in the same home.

There are nights when my daughter opens her eyes and looks at me briefly. I can see she’s trying to focus. I can see the little bit of hope in her sleepiness that it might be her daddy, like old times, when he’d kiss them too. She stopped saying long ago, I thought daddy was here too. Mommy, is daddy ever coming home again? Those questions stopped coming long ago. My son doesn’t even remember us living together anymore. He will never remember a real family. Every night, every single night I morn the loss of that life for them.

I hear all the time from people…medical doctors, psychiatrists, family, and friends, children are resilient and they’ll be fine. If this were true we wouldn’t have so many screwed up adults carrying around baggage from their childhoods. That’s what’s wrong with my ex. I’m sure of it. Children aren’t resilient. They just don’t have choices.

Anyway….these things keep me up at night. I hope I’m enough. I hope I’m not too damaged to be the best mother I can be. I just wanted more for them. I really did.

❤️~If Only Mommy

Drop

It’s the release of letting go.

Straightening your fingers.

Accept it falling away.

See it suck towards the horizon.

Away.

Far away.

Allowing it to be gone.

Trusting your most basic instincts.

Knowing what they don’t even know about themselves.

Refusing to grab hold.

Resisting the need to repair.

Forward moving in thoughts and actions.

Staying true to myself.

Searching the paths to fit us three.

Never denying fear or sadness.

Reaching for hope.

Breathing.

Living.

Me.

The Switch

 

But….

I would run through a thick briar patch bleeding, wade through a murky swamp at dusk, crawl to the back of a dark, damp cave to free myself from the words that feel like punches to my stomach.  Free myself from the rejection and devaluing you quickly decided to wash me with.  The blame you covered me with.  I would peal out of myself just to not feel how loud the silence was when you twisted my words and disappeared.  It was another place I never wanted to go.  I would stand in a lightning storm than stand in the false shelter of you because the trust you bestowed broke me again, although I deny it.  I’ll continue to deny it forever because I allowed it after being taught never to.  I’d been tricked, duped and I’d refused to ever let that happen again but in a brief moment I did and it pushed me back under.  It brought the doubt crashing back around me like shards of glass and the warmth turned to cold.  Freezing cold and in the distance I could almost see you watching unfazed…not moving toward or away.  But when I got a clearer look I saw that you weren’t looking at all but your back was facing me as I allowed the sharp words to return from the atmosphere, cutting open the wounds from before, just deeper this time.  So I curled up in a ball, bleeding in the back of this dark cave in my mind.

Until….

I felt the warmth.  I saw a ray of light.  A bright glowing beam and it glowed inside me.  I stood to follow it when I felt more.  They were all around me….going through me.  A warm breeze followed me in every direction I turned.  My face tingled and my cheeks were tight.  What was this new sensation?  Who shown their light on me?  How could I trust this was okay?

Then I realized it was me.

The golden rays of light were coming from me.

I was smiling because of me.

Because you can’t rely on the warm glow of another.   You have to be your own light.

 

IOM

 

When you’re spinning don’t forget to spot.

I must have wished at a time, long, long, ago for world peace. It seems I’m on a constant mission to help people and solve all their problems. It’s like I’m driven by a power I’m not in control of. I HAVE to do these things. I cannot ignore them. What is my problem. Haha. I guess it could be worse.

My thoughts are swirling and I have too many things to say. Hopefully I’ll find an organized thought soon….or not but whatever. Organized thinking…it’s obviously not cool or I’d totally be trying that out. Haha. If only!

That’s all folks. Don’t you feel enlightened? I feel like Charlie Brown, “Good Grief”.

Slow Motion Memories

If any of you have been through a traumatic experience you know that memories of that time seem like slow motion or at least to me they do. Most of these traumatic events happened in short spans of time, like minutes. I had a terrible car accident when I was 16. Most of it was wiped from my memory, like it didn’t exist, but the parts I remember had to be minutes long but all feeling warped in my mind. Slow. The traumatic events that occurred at the end of my marriage weren’t minutes but months and months and months. There are a lot of slo-mo moments but there is one that stands out that shouldn’t. I think of it often and in my head it feels surreal and unimportant but the memory resurfaces a lot. I wish I knew why. The major event happened the day after Mother’s Day. My daughter was in kindergarten at the time and my son pre-k. A few days after, probably like Wednesday, I was walking to the bus stop with my son to wait for my daughter to return home from school. As I was walking down the sidewalk, passing by my neighbor’s houses, one mom was in her yard. She said, “Hi” as did I. Then she said, “What are you going to do next year when he starts kindergarten?” Trying to cover my pain and panic from the events of the week I just said, “Miss him.” Then she went on to tell me what she and some of the other stay-at-home moms do when their kids are in school and said I should join them. I remember her talking but I have no idea what she said. I remember she was animated when she was describing this or that. Maybe a gardening club, maybe the movies…I honestly have no idea what she said. I just remember holding my little boy’s hand and feeling very numb. Almost like I didn’t exist.

I think I lived many days like that. Going through the motions but floating, translucent in grief. Crumbling pieces of me. Hollow eyes. My insides feeling concave.

I may write like I’m still in that place. I may seem like I haven’t moved forward at times, but I have. I’ve moved many, many miles and minutes and emotions away. People advise me, try to push me into whichever stage they think would be good for me next but I’m not pushable. What happens next is just going to happen organically. It’s going to flow into my life. Not be forced. There is and will always be a dark, thick, charcoal line sketched to define before and after. This isn’t sad or negative. It just is. The after has been a stage of regrouping. Forced to take the road less traveled. The end is always the same for you, for me, for everyone. The in-between…we will see.

❤️iom