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.
and so much to do.
My mind keeps heckling me,
I need to do this and I need to do that…
but I’m so tired.
I’ve been up since 4:30 am,
going since then,
and my body just wants rest.
But how will I get it all done?
I tell myself I love myself no matter what.
I try to believe myself.
I take another breath.
I remember that it can’t all get done at once.
I take another breath.
I write this poem.
I’ll celebrate this win,
remind myself it will be ok.
I’ll breathe again,
and figure out what’s next.
Kids woke me up at night.
Lost my temper. Yelled.
Too angry to sleep.
Tossed and turned all night.
Morning came. Groggy.
Meditation was a joke.
Worried my teaching would be compromised.
Taught two yoga classes anyway.
Grocery store, card declined,
scrambling to scrape up money;
a girlfriend lent me the rest of what I needed.
(Had to drive to her house to borrow a card
and drive it back again.)
Turned it around,
read the kids a story.
Snuggled my son.
He said he loved me.
Then he said he loved his dad.
The he said he loved the other woman.
He said her name as we were snuggling.
The kids went to their rooms. To bed.
I lost it again.
I was slamming and screaming
This isn’t fair!
I don’t deserve this.
Slamming and screaming.
Don’t traumatize the children.
I asked my husband to get the kids.
I told him I needed to get help.
He came and got them.
My daughter cried;
she didn’t want to leave.
I tried to reassure her that I’m going to be ok.
I was trying to reassure myself too.
Spoke with two recovery friends.
Feeling a little better.
Trying to rest now.
Wish me luck.
I need to forgive.
I need to believe.
I want to live.
But I want relief.
These feelings are too much.
They will swallow me whole.
I want to escape my mind,
but I cannot.
Caught in the trance of unworthiness*
Wondering what to do, where to go,
what to say and to whom,
which book to read,
what action to take,
how to stand, how to sit,
how to walk,
what to eat,
what to drink,
what to wear,
who will understand
all these questions, these doubts,
There is a darkness,
an unspeakable horror in me,
clawing to get out.
It visits me in my dreams at night
and wakes me up.
I feel exhausted by these nightly hauntings.
I want release, relief, respite
from being tossed around on these huge waves
in the infinite ocean of consciousness,
the surface of which
has been stormy for quite some time.
I’m tired of the turbulence,
tired of this endless transition
from what was familiar
into a new life that I cannot see or fathom.
They say I’m at the helm.
They say I have the power.
They say I can change my narrative, my perception,
They tell me I’m better off without him.
This is just talk,
and I am tired of being thrown about endlessly
on enormous waves out in the middle of nowhere,
no land in sight,
on a flimsy vessel that is sinking fast.
I have nearly drowned a thousand times
in the dark waters of my psyche.
Why do I keep thrashing my way to the surface?
I want a safe harbor, a home,
a place of belonging,
a tribe who knows and loves me.
Why in the moment when I most need connection
does it seem that no one is there?
Why with all of this love around
does it not show up in the way I’m wanting?
More questions than answers,
and afraid to go to sleep
because I know what waits for me in the darkness:
than any human should bear.
*Spiritual teacher Tara Brach talks about the trance of unworthiness in her book Radical Acceptance.
Why am I so grumpy,
Why do I keep snapping at my kids?
Why is my house such a mess?
Why do I feel angry at my husband again?
Why does my life feel so disorganized?
Why am I so disappointed in myself
and everything about my current situation?
it’s time for bed.
I’m getting a late start to the NaPoWriMo prompts. You could say I’ve been bit distracted of late, you know, what with going through a messy divorce and my husband finally deciding to leave the house and everything. But, better late than never as they say. Today’s prompt is to write a list poem with names we’ve made up. Some examples given were band names, romance novel titles, and ideas for TV cop dramas. I’m going to try out names for unnameable mixtures of emotions that I’ve had to eat and eat and eat because that’s been my reality for nine months. Also, that I haven’t been able to eat much real food for months and that my weight has plummeted makes the food theme even more apropos…
What’s On the Menu
Guilt shame pain blame regret soup with caramelized judgment
Saving self saving grace saving kids special sauce
Resistance depression darkness divorcee’s doubt pudding
Extramarital affair discovery baked with ragey cagey compote
Humor relief lightness super crunchy trail mix
Wanting more wanting out always wanting fizzy punch
Revelation with a twist of salvation salad accompanied by a side of tangy WTF?
Blanket idealism ice cream and
unapologetically innocent optimism pie for dessert
Self-help book junkie dharma debt digestif—scorches and soothes simultaneously
and for the heartburn…
Rollercoaster searching spicy spiral spiritual medicine
in the form of pleasure pills, tranquility tea, and intuition injections.
Baby we ain’t got no brakes,
so buckle up and tie your napkin around your neck.