Living As All of Me

[HannahOne]

Made both kids a Valentine bag, even though one's 18 and off to her boyfriend's for the weekend. Want them to have love no matter what. Felt flat all day and did nothing else. Laid in bed and looked at the wall. Didn't put on clothes. All the clothes look like someone else's closet. Maybe some emotional flashback, maybe some depersonalization going on. Can't imagine ever wanting clothes, putting on any of those clothes, whose clothes are those. Stuff on the floor looks foreign, who ever wanted a suitcase full of wool and sporks? Zero interest in painting. Responded to zero texts, screen a column of green circles. Hand looks far away, why is arm so long? To do list is undone. Who wanted to make appointments, resolve X issue with IEP team, and send a thank you note? Whatever. No appetite. Partner brought dinner home for kids. Half-heartedly pet Frank, who ever wanted a rabbit? Asked kid to feed and water said Frank, went back to bed. Writing to keep faith with process. Tomorrow another day. Sometimes it's like this. Sometimes this is what it's like. Made both kids a Valentine's bag. Wanted them to know they are loved.

[Dalloway]

Hannah, I think that it is absolutely normal and fine to have days like this, even if it doesn´t feel good, what I am sincerely sorry for. Being with that, recognizing and acknowledging it is in my opinion the best gift you can give to yourself for Valentine´s day. Thinking about you and hoping you feel that you´re not alone. Hang in there 

[NarcKiddo]

You are loved too.

[TheBigBlue]

💛 💛 💛

[HannahOne]

Dalloway, thank you for reading and commenting. Thank you for reminding me I'm not alone, we all have days like this sometimes. And being with myself in it is the most important thing.

Thank you NarcKiddo and TheBigBlue. 

[HannahOne]

Once again want to hang on to something so writing it down. When I know I am seen and heard even if not 100% perfectly, but accepted... it's a different world. I feel different. I move differently. My wants and needs, hopes and dreams come into focus. There's energy. Quiet.

When I am not seen and heard and even if I were I will not be accepted, everything is heavy. I move through the world mechanically with my head down, wiping this and cleaning that, thought-blocking. I can't imagine anything I want or need and internally it's very noisy, a feeling of conflict in my chest, tangled energy so that I have to force myself to move. Joyless.

I want to hold on to the feeling of being amongst people who see and hear me, and if not 100% perfectly, who want to see and hear. Who accept me, even if they aren't sure about everything. Who want me to feel accepted. Who have felt what I've felt and known what I've known, and if not, have the imagination to still let my feeling and knowing resonate resonate. It's like an energy field. I want to stay in this field.

The other day I asked my child to rate me as a mom. This is a game we play. "Minus 10 points, soggy sandwich!" "Mom fail, three minutes late to pickup!" "MomScore takes a hit, failure to stop grating cheese while child is talking!"

On this day I got a 9.5. "9.5!" I said. "Pretty good! Why did you score your mother 9.5 today?" Held an imaginary microphone to child's face. "A five star snack today, and you listened to my rant about geometry!"

"And  tell our viewers what it's like to have a 9.5 mom," I said. She stared into the distance for a long minute. I started to get a little nervous. "I don't know what it's like to not have a 9.5 mom," she said. "Try for our viewers at home," I encouraged.

"I guess it's like lemonade."

Lemonade?

"Crisp and refreshing," she said. Crisp and refreshing?

"Like when you've been thirsty, and you have a glass of cool sweet lemonade."

I put my imaginary microphone away. "Like lemonade, ladies and gentlemen! Thanks for playing, kid." Left her to her geometry, hunched over the book with the remains of her five star snack all over the tablecloth.

I pondered this in my heart for several days. For her, it was NBD. Nothing dramatic. Nothing so serious. Having a mom wasn't the be-all end-all. Wasn't an accumulation of all my choices, sacrifices, efforts. Wasn't world-shattering. It's literally the lemonade she swims in. She doesn't know any different. She knows when she's tired, thirsty, depleted, there'll be a glass of lemonade there for her. And that's what having a mom is like.

And that's what having mirroring is like. That's felt safety is like. That's what being seen and heard is like. That's what care is like. For me, it's a BFD. It's pretty much the be-all end-all at this point. It is an accumulation of all my choices and non-choices, all my sacrifices, all my efforts and letting go's, that I am able to find my way to it, know it when I taste it, and take it in. It's something I don't yet swim in, but am finding the dispenser for, a glass at a time. And that's enough. I can keep trekking, today. Give me this day my daily lemonade. And forgive me my soggy sandwiches.

[Marcine]

To be loved and to love.
To receive and to give.

Resonating in the energy field, indeed, HannahOne

[NarcKiddo]

"I don't know what it's like to not have a 9.5 mom," she said.

Lucky girl. Lucky, lucky girl.

And, just to keep with the lemon analogy, if anyone has been given a bunch of lemons in life you have. Sounds like you have made some top class lemonade.