Simple Sadness

It waxes and wanes. Like the tide, it rises, then retreats. Back into the blackness.

Looking over my shoulder. It follows me. Weighing me down. Dragging my feet, breathing heavy, sometimes gasping for air.

Picking up speed, I try to outrun. But it inevitably catches me. Too often I surrender. Feeling weak and confused and beaten.

Watching the film of my life. My life I no longer live. My how easy it is to forget. Or is it only what I created to justify.

The lingering, the dwelling. But this, this is when I grow. Or so I thought.

Or so I thought.

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Struggling With….

I love D, my 18 year old son, with all of my heart. But I am struggling. Actions he has made, comments he has stated, points of view he has expressed, and small mannerisms he has made are in direct conflict with how I felt I raised him. Is this because I faltered more than I thought? Is it his Dad in him? Is it immaturity? Is it him simply figuring himself out too?

It’s probably all of the above. When I see his Dad in him, the parts of his Dad that I, dare I say, despise, well I struggle with that the most. Because I just don’t respect it. At all. And with this, D has turned to his father a bit more these days. Ironically, this is what I have always wanted. However, it’s become a bit of opposing sides if that makes sense. His father has become the one who just makes things easy for D. No thought, no push back, no parenting really. And so I have become the bad cop. The one to avoid. The one who is left in the dark.

Is it my ego that wants so desperately to impart wisdom with my words creating a change in D’s actions that I perceive as positive? Is it my own insecurities of not being a “good enough” mom fueling disappointment? Or is just life? Just life playing out as it does. Guilty is how I feel. For having any disappointment. For wanting him to be better. Guilty.

Struggling with…it all.

An Adult (by age anyway)

It’s snowing. Lightly. I can see the individual flakes dropping from the sky. Small piles filling the creases on the deck.

In two days you will turn 18. And technically the state will view you as an adult. Though you have looked forward to this day feeling it marks so much freedom, you must know it carries more responsibility as well. This in fact is yet another chapter of your precious life. Small steps to truly become independent in all ways. Finding my heart is swelling for you knowing so many wonderful things await you…it also has become a bit heavy for I understand this transition in your life pulls you in a direction that is opposite of where I stand.

In two short days, eighteen years ago you blessed this world with your being. To say it was easy and wonderful and magical would be untrue. I was young and hurting and unbalanced. I was drained. Labor had extended well over a day. The emergency c-section left me with a nicked blood vessel unbeknown to the doctors. So while my body tried to stabilize from the delivery, I was also loosing blood. But you, you were perfect. So incredibly beautiful. The day we left the hospital it was snowing. A bit more than it is today. And that day was the newest chapter in my life.

Like yesterday, the memory of your drunken face when you would finish breast feeding, how the crease above your top lip would remain. Your skin was so incredibly soft and your head fit perfectly in the crease of my arm. Looking at your toes, I would study you, this miracle given to me. So much has changed. Our home, the dynamics, the shifts in our personalities as we worked to be mother and son. Faltered more than a few times, I know I always tried my best. Snuggling next to you in your day bed, feeding you your first foods in your high chair, the clean baby smell after a bath..so many moments, so tangible. I feel them all.

So eighteen. Cliche as it sounds, I can’t believe it. Regardless, I will always adore your hugs. Your smile melts my heart every time. Your singing voice coming from the shower. Watching you walk around the house wrapped up in my blanket. And knowing the reason why you’ve taken a nap in my bed while I’m at work is because on a level you too feel this shift.

As the tears roll down my face, my heart feels so heavy. I miss you already. Know it doesn’t matter the age..you will always, always be my baby.

xo

Steps

Are you overcome with joy? With anger? With guilt? Resentment? Happiness? Anxiety? Panic? Contentment? Gratitude? What is it that holds you so tightly? Is it strangling your very being or is it giving you much needed breath? Does it enable you to grow or does it stifle your dreams? Does it look you in the face and lie or does it hold truth in all its spoken and unspoken words?

On the contrary, maybe you have overcome hurt, pain, illness. Maybe you have overcome a life full of shadows, emptiness, and dead-ends. Maybe you have overcome being weak. Maybe you have softened the hard edges of your untrusting self. But maybe you are still waiting to overcome that day when your knees buckled beneath you.

All of the emotions are a kaleidoscope creating colors so bright that some offend your very eyes while others offer a soothing break. With each emotion know you are taking steps. Steps. Some may be forward and some backward. But it’s movement. And such is better than standing still.

Just Me

So many people tell me I need to find a boyfriend. That’s their “fix” for me. “You need a guy.” And I do. I want someone in my life. But not as a bandaid for the pain. Not as a distraction. I’m so settled in this place of needing to feel and process. And at times I even question this thought process. Am I thinking too much? Am I being too hard on myself? Am I purposefully denying myself? Do you know how sometimes you try to explain something but it never sounds right? Well I came across this article yesterday and it so resonated, feeling like THIS is what I have been feeling really but have failed to explain in a way that makes sense.

Even T has asked to help create a profile for me on an online dating site. And I see him feeling like he somehow needs to take care of me. He watches his father with his girlfriend and though notices how completely different his father acts when in her presence, he also feels love and a togetherness. I want that. But not just because people are telling me I need that or because I need someone to fix me or my pain. I want someone who wants to be by my side sometimes pulling me forward to bigger adventures. Someone who carries hope on their shoulder. Someone who seeks opportunities. Someone who is not afraid. Someone who is strong and makes me feel just as empowered. Someone who is not afraid to laugh at themselves. Who can speak the truth and whose actions emulate truth. Someone who can make me laugh. Someone who respects all of me – not just sometimes, when it’s convenient, but always.

Until then I am learning to be okay. With me. Just me. I use to live a life where I was distant from myself. Slowly that is changing.

Regret Versus Guilt

So by now you must know I carry a lot of guilt. Waxes and wanes, but always peaking its head around the corner daring to be seen, guilt is ever present. At times I am able to assuage this annoying and often incredibly persistent emotion. While other times, I succumb to the drowning effects.

Certainly regret and guilt are not mutually exclusive. They seemingly both stir up negativity in many ways. But for me, in my case of divorce, one does not mean the other. To clarify – because I carry this guilt does not equate to regret. Admittedly, the weight is slowly lifting. And yet, I truly don’t think will ever completely disappear. The definition of being a parent surely includes feeling guilt. Somewhere in there it must state “be prepared to go to bed many a night feeling guilty.” But, I did not choose divorce in that I ultimately had no choice. Despite the many good “things,” some of the best were not shining through or even present. For example, I want my boys to witness love at it’s core; to experience first hand what respect looks and feels like between two people who have promised their life together; to sense compassion; to taste the sweet, sweet taste of undying selflessness; to witness patience and self-control; to appreciate the ups and downs are to be travelled together.

Yes, there is a possibility that I will never be able to personally exemplify all of this for them. But, they are no longer living in a place where the opposite exists and teaches them all that should never be taught.

Guilt? Yes. Regret? No.

This morning I read a beautiful post. It was the reminder I needed. My boys are strong. And I think that maybe, just maybe, I am too.

‘Honey, that challenge was made for you. It might hurt, but it will also nurture wisdom, courage, and character. I can see what you’re going through, and it’s big. But I can also see your strength, and that’s even bigger. This won’t be easy, but we can do hard things.’                        -Glennon Doyle Melton

 

Faith

This is long overdue. An examination of my marathon. Writing, with my left hand, about each mile. What I was feeling, thinking, seeing. I did it. And now I am having a hard time with the “results.” At the advice of my yoga teacher, I named the race. Faith. Each mile I needed to somehow relate to faith. Mentally working through each mile may just give me my life lesson she had said.

And this is where I am struggling. It was mile 16 I saw my my sister-in-law, nieces, T, my dad, and my mom. My interaction was mostly with my mom however. T and my dad where standing back and up on some stairs. I wasn’t feeling very strong at this point or at least not as strong as I had in training. And from here it went downhill. After I saw my family, it went downhill. And honestly, I think it was more after I saw my mom specifically. Ugh. I became weaker. More in my head. Weak. Beaten. Defeated. Up until seeing my mom she had been sending me supportive texts. When I saw her, she was proud. She yelled out as I ran off “How are you feeling?” and T just happened to snap a picture the moment I turned to respond. The look on my face says it all.

So why after this point, the point where I should have felt an extra boost, did I lose energy?  I can still feel what it felt like now – the lack of energy. It was a gross feeling. It was so hard to keep moving. And truly I didn’t know if I could. I became my weak, old, self full of anxiety and panic. And that turns into a downward spiral. My brother was running also. He had been a few miles behind me. I called him to say I didn’t think I could do it. He told me to keep going, he’d catch up with me. I kept looking back, looking for him. He never caught up. But, the fact that he tried so hard still warms my heart. He was there for me.

I crossed the finish line that day. Not even close to the time I had trained for and expected. It wasn’t until hours later, I could reflect back on the race and notice the many gifts.

So faith. Faith in myself. In my strength. In my abilities. Trust in who I am. And probably most importantly, feeling confident in doing what I know is right…for me. Not doubting. Yes, faith.