Enveloped in complete darkness,
she spells out clearly from her depths
words like ropes reaching,
asking someone to take hold
and pull her out.
Maybe if enough people
take just one thread of her words,
maybe she’ll be lifted out of her pit
and see the light of day once more.
I taught all my yoga classes
(seven in three days)
and I am exhausted.
I had dinner in Westminster
with my cousin and her family,
gave my father a card and a hug.
Back home the loneliness sets in.
My kids are with their dad and his girlfriend,
and I keep seeing
families playing together,
wondering how my life got to this,
where I’m working myself to exhaustion
just to make ends meet,
homeless in less than a month,
angry at the injustice,
lonely without my kids.
I want this to change.
I am willing to change.
But I need help to see beyond my pain.
When you’re 42 years old
with two young children,
celibate for the last two years,
yearning for human contact
but trusting no one…
When there’s just $35 in your checking account…
and your AC has been broken for two weeks
and there’s a wiring problem in your house
necessitating running extension cords
from your refrigerator and freezer
to outlets in another room…
When you’re feeling
tired, angry, and lonely,
but you’ve made a commitment to sobriety
to try to claw your way out
of this pit you’ve fallen into…
When the only direction you can go is up,
but you’re so damn depressed that breathing feels hard—
HOW DO YOU FIND THE STRENGTH TO CLIMB?
Friends, that last question is not rhetorical. I quite literally want to know how YOU, you who have made it through tough circumstances and who have come out stronger, how YOU did it. I need some hope. Please share your experience, strength and hope with me.
I just want to be a good mother.
I try so hard.
And at the end of the day,
I lose it sometimes.
I lose it with my kids
when I’m tired and they’re tired.
There used to be another adult around
who’d step in
when I couldn’t anymore.
That adult is gone.
When I’m tired and sick
there is no one else to take care of me
I’m tired of taking care of myself,
tired of being alone.
I want help.
It’s in these moments
that the anger wells up
if I don’t stop it.
I get angry for being thrust into this place
of missing my kids when they’re not here
and overwhelmed when they are.
I’m tired of this mess, this story.
I can do so well for hours and hours.
I can be proud of my mothering,
the balance I manage to find.
But at the end of the day
I’m tired and they’re tired
and sometimes I just lose it.
This morning I lost it
on my meditation cushion.
my six year old son
kept wanting things from me,
and I was calm about it,
up until the point
where I wasn’t.
I got angry.
I began to yell
needing one moment to myself
trying so hard
and doing so much for other people
and don’t I deserve one moment to myself?
And then of course I regretted it.
I felt guilty, ashamed.
I asked for forgiveness
from my two children and my sister,
who had to hear me storming about,
losing my temper, being crazy.
help me wake up more,
so that I can act in such a way
that there are no more regrets.
The most painful thing
is the disappointment I feel
when I’ve been impatient with my kids,
when I can’t step up,
be the adult
and just keep going.
I get stuck, hung up in my pain.
It blinds me.
It makes me say things I don’t mean,
and then I have to live with myself afterwards.
I’m tired of this feeling,
so tired of the old way of thinking.
I have worked so hard to overcome it,
but it’s so easy to slip into the old habits.
PMS is back, and this is when it’s the worst.
Will this ever change?*
Or am I doomed to be Jekyll and Hyde forever?
*I guess I can look forward to menopause?
He wants to say Hi to the kids every night.
Every night his voice is in my home
like he never left.
now his mistress’s voice is in my home,
as my son asks if she is there,
and her face and her voice appear.
Son says that he can’t wait to see her, the other woman.
My son can’t wait to see my husband’s mistress.
How do I compartmentalize?
How do I live with the cognitive dissonance?
I’m trying to be free of them,
but they are in my mind,
in my home,
in my children’s minds.
My children are innocent.
They are loving, accepting and kind,
just like I want them to be,
just like I taught them to be.
But I get tense every night when he calls.
He left my bed, my heart, my home,
but every night he comes back
like he never left.