Something beautiful is happening…
I think it might be resilience?
Wisdom gained from experience?
But as I found myself caught
in my monthly darkness today,
instead of falling all the way down
into the dark hole of depression
and believing my life was never good
and never will be good
I remembered that this was a temporary darkness,
and all I had to do was ride it out.
I prayed. I breathed.
I reassured the little girl in me
who was never allowed to feel sad or angry
that I saw her and loved her.
It didn’t change the mood.
it was still awful and dark and sad,
but some part of me knew this was temporary.
What can I call this?
That has a nice ring to it.
I think I’ll call it grace.
I’m turning toward the one within
who has been suffering so long
trying to be good.
Sitting on my cushion,
tapping on the points,*
releasing old stories,
crying tears of old grief,
something waits for me.
Behind the stories,
before the stories,
before the layers were piled on top of me,
there was just this Self,
this essence of being,
open, clear, available to the present moment.
Uncovering that Self,
listening, seeing, and celebrating her,
setting her free to live and love authentically,
this is why I do this work.
It is so worth it.
*I’ve been practicing EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) daily since mid-May. It has gotten me throught the worst moments of terror and anxiety about the future, and grief, shame and regret about the past. It has also helped me to stay sober when I had moments of wanting to numb out with various societally acceptable ways of escaping one’s feelings. Do you practice EFT or have you ever heard of it? There aren’t too many people in my sphere who have. I have found it so helpful that I’m feeing called to share the practice.
It turns out that the more attention
I give to these positive feeling states
the more my brain creates circuitry
to support the experience of those states
in my body, mind, and life.
My mind has been focused on suffering
and now it is time for a new habit.
God, give me the strength
to focus on how I really want to feel.
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.
There is no losing or winning,
just staying asleep or waking up.
Every time I breathe consciously,
I wake up a little bit more.
I have more available to me in this moment,
more to feel, and see, and touch,
more to embody, embrace and become.
I let the breath move through me.
When I feel a difficult feeling,
I ventilate it, and let it pass through too.
Sometimes I don’t react to the feeling,
I just breathe it.
And I remember
it’s not about losing or winning,
but staying asleep or waking up.
I choose to awaken.
Saturday night and I’m alone.
I used to have a husband
and we used to live together
with our two children…
I used to have a family.
I try not to retell the story
of how you made the choice
to break our family apart,
and share your heart
and bed with someone else.
But the pain is real,
and the grief surges up inside me
like a wave
and suddenly I’m drowning.
A drowning person
can’t think logically…
they’re fighting for survival.
All they want is a breath of air.
Just like this,
I cannot think my way out
of the grief that drowns me.
I’m thrashing about inside myself
looking for land,
trying to catch my breath,
but there’s no land,
and there’s no breath,
and I’m sinking deeper,
And then, my mood shifted…
and then, I felt lighter,
There was no reason for this;
it just happened.
I give thanks for the shift,
and for everything that came
giving me a reason
to long for change
and the courage
to allow change to happen.