There is probably nothing more infuriating to me than when I am not allowed to have my opinion or feelings about something. I’m not talking about politics or religion, because quite honestly I am not the person who would care to debate any of that.
I’m talking about when you have a very personal understanding or view of something and it’s shamed or not listened to because the person you are around is so into themselves they can’t see outside their own personal dimensions.
I say this after years of not seeing eye to eye with my brother. On anything. Give us a topic and we can’t discuss. He is right. I am wrong. I am skewed. He is correct.
Somedays, I feel raw and vulnerable about being a mama, being a working mama at that. I feel stuck between getting it all together and falling completely apart. I hide behind sarcastic remarks and humor in order to cope with my feelings of loss.
I am knee deep in wondering how I can be more patient with my beautiful, bubbly 2 year old.
I am questioning my ability to keep tabs on my 6 year old son’s troubled tummy problems that seem to be getting more complicated as the year goes on.
I wonder if I’m good enough for my new job.
I try to imagine a home cooked dinner that everyone is eating together.
I absolutely can’t imagine working 12 hour shifts three times a week and getting home when the kids are going to bed. And yet, this will be happening starting next month.
I am wondering if my MIL’s cancer will require treatment and subsequently incur many discussions with my inquisitive 6 year old. How much do I tell him? How much is too much?
I wonder if I’ll always feel disrupted by small detours in life. Or are they really small detours when they involve my children, their health, my ability to be home more?
I realize that my comments are jaded by these things seeping into my heart and soul. I am trying to not live in the what if’s. I am living in the now. But the now is fiery. It’s blistered. Hot. And weeping still.
I just want to wear a sign that quietly says, “healing in progress, please be gentle”.
And yet, the one who probably needs to read that sign more than anyone, is me.
Healing is in progress.
It’s still weeping, but all wounds weep before they heal.