Sometimes I forget and think that the purpose of my sharing inside of this space is to be inspiring. It feels like a lot of pressure when I think that is what it’s about. Plus, it feels kinda false. What I am really inside of this space to do is to be a truth teller. To speak, or write, what is real for me right now in this moment, as I am, in all of my flaws and imperfections and missteps. Maybe I am just here to do my part in normalizing the slog of being alive. And maybe that is inspiring but mostly, and especially right now, it just feels like surviving. I am bogged down. Anyone else? My fatigue on every level feeds into a constant state of overwhelm and I am mostly just trying to do my best in any given moment and on any given day to at least try and soothe my nervous system. To regulate myself at all and pray pray pray that that matters in my efforts to co-regulate with my kids and spouse. It is fucking hard.
Yesterday was hell. Wilfred was a handful and a half, or maybe more cuz we generally have a lot of hands on deck. He is slow to talk, which I mostly think is no big deal, Eider was too. But unlike Eider who seemed completely content in his preverbal life, Wilfred is frustrated and seething in some moments that feel too big for me to hold. But I keep on trying. Even through the tears. Through the fatigue. When he finally goes down for a nap and I get to leave him at home for a moment with Chris while I drive to pick up Maple from school and to swim team practice, I am rewarded with her low blood sugar rage at me for something that I either didn’t do right or simply just '“don’t get” and I know for sure in those moments that something is being seriously tested inside of me. Whether it is my patience, or my calm in the face of calamity, or perhaps more likely my capacity for compassion and forgiveness, self and otherwise, it feels like a test. Like the kind that sets you up to fail.
Cuz I most certainly lost my shit this week. I yelled at moo in the car. Like, yelled yelled. Refusing to be the receptacle for whatever it was that she was dishing out. A day later I yowled fuuuuuuck! at the full capacity of my lungs outside of the door behind which Chris was on some work call. Off-gassing I guess. And I forgive myself already for all of this and more and am also a little sad that neither outburst made me feel any amount better at all. It was a good experiment though I suppose. So there’s that.
The thing I want is some relief, right? But what does that even mean? Because even if I get a break from the slog of mom life for an afternoon or god willing a whole glorious weekend, the world that I step out into is still on fire, people are still dying or in denial, basic human regard is still woefully absent and hard to find and there still doesn’t appear to be any end in sight for any of it. In fact, science is basically telling us that even if we heed the fucking emergency and get our shit together RIGHT NOW, that it still only going to get worse for another 30 or so years before any of our efforts even begin to be felt by the planet. What the fuck? And that is assuming that anyone even cares enough to do something for the good of a world that they may or may not even be here to see. That’s a lot of goodwill. Or a lot of faith. Or something else entirely for which I may not even have a word for.
It’s a lot. And here is what I know for sure: I believe in humanity. I believe in myself. Even if both are the wavering sort of faith that is hard to find consistent footing inside of. Even if I cannot clearly or coherently wrap my head around any version of the future, mine or ours. I do believe in continuing to culture myself. In forgiving myself and working to do better in this next moment. I think that there is actually hopeful room for improvement, for all of it. And maybe it just starts in some way with me snuggling up to the darker and more dismal areas of discomfort inside of my personal experience. I think that there is probably some kind of imperative around my efforts at integrating the more treacherous parts of myself into the whole and shining some light a little deeper into the recesses of my darker spaces. You know, those ones that are so dissociated that they are all heavy shadow and toxic mold.
Anyhow, that’s it. No inspo just some truth-telling. May my story serve in some way. Or not. Maybe it just gave you a moment of distraction from something harder and that is fine too. I am just gonna leave it with this: thank god for eider. He is the calm in the storm for me right now for sure. That quiet little guy has become a not-so-quiet but incredibly compassionate kid that knows how to hold space and offer support. And while I know it is not by any stretch of the imagination his job to take care of me, I really appreciate the way he calmly steps up to help with his bro while I do something super luxurious like take a shit. I also appreciate the way in which he knows that Freddy loves to eat all of his brother’s food, even when he has the very same on his own plate. And how anything I suggest is gonna be infinitely more fun if done with Eid instead. I appreciate that. I am grateful for that. And in there, some relief.