The thing about ME is...
Haha kind of funny to mark this entry as Educational. : ) But it is. It was that kind of day, for me.
Today is one of those days where you read "The Thing Is..." a poem like I posted earlier (sent to me from my sister in law, the one who had brain surgery last month... she's doing great now that the cerebro-spinal fluid leak has stopped... sheesh) and then you have a conversation and IT ALL FITS and IT ALL FLOWS together so usefully and educationally that you just have to stagger around through the rest of the day giving thanks for how amazing life can be.
The poem, "The Thing Is..." and then my conversation with my minister Jennifer just had that kind of synchronicity. I told Jennifer about the rough times I have had in the past week, and how great I feel about connecting to Byron, how disconnected I feel from the rest of the world sometimes, how I feel lonely because of the disconnect if I withdraw into my inner space and act brave and cheerful when I'm feeling so tiny inside. And how dysfunctionally connected I am with my mother.......
.... and The Thing was... Jennifer correctly identified the Thing. The Thing about ME is that sometimes I need a mother to hold me and comfort me. I can do it for Byron, and I did it for Andy, but my mother can't do it for me, wonderful and loving as she is, because of what it took to survive the death of my sister when we were little. (See previous posts... I'm sure I've mentioned this! At least a few times!) She comforts herself with simple platitudes, and is on overload with all the sadness. I can't add to it.
So I'm saying to Jennifer that I can try to mother myself... and that I have a few friends... and YOU all... and that I am going to see my therapist Mary soon (postponed it after this morning... too much for one day!) ... and maybe that I can try to train my husband to just hold me and let me cry... but she said again that I need a soft female to sob into... and she was right. And she was the one. I sobbed, and she held me, and patted my hair, and said it's ok baby. Many times.
I snuffled and sobbed and said that I want connection more than anything on earth, but I am losing my family. I lost my sister, I lost my husband (Larry, Andy and Byron's father) and I lost Andy and I will lose my parents and I do feel very alone sometimes. It was very nice to be held, to feel MY inner child safely seen and heard and loved. I can give myself 'permission' to be emotional until the cows come home, but actually finding the window for it to happen is quite something else.
We talked about letting people IN. The thing is: at one extreme, I'm highly functional on the outside but all curled up with grief and pain deep inside, and at the other I'd be unable to put one foot in front of the other and sharing my nightmare with every single human who I encounter. The thing is: finding my healthy place on that continuum.
Other bits o' conversation: Jennifer also said it's a useless myth that families always get bigger... that as loving as we are we won't always have lots of people to love, and that's hard to accept. We talked about grandbabies (which I may never have, completely contrary to all the assumptions I had made as a girl and young mother) and how to protect the energy and keep myself ok with this journey. We talked about the cosmos, my spiritual viewpoint (non-theistic) and where Andy 'is' now.
I feel better at this point. For now, and that's good enough.
xoxoxo Sarah
Today is one of those days where you read "The Thing Is..." a poem like I posted earlier (sent to me from my sister in law, the one who had brain surgery last month... she's doing great now that the cerebro-spinal fluid leak has stopped... sheesh) and then you have a conversation and IT ALL FITS and IT ALL FLOWS together so usefully and educationally that you just have to stagger around through the rest of the day giving thanks for how amazing life can be.
The poem, "The Thing Is..." and then my conversation with my minister Jennifer just had that kind of synchronicity. I told Jennifer about the rough times I have had in the past week, and how great I feel about connecting to Byron, how disconnected I feel from the rest of the world sometimes, how I feel lonely because of the disconnect if I withdraw into my inner space and act brave and cheerful when I'm feeling so tiny inside. And how dysfunctionally connected I am with my mother.......
.... and The Thing was... Jennifer correctly identified the Thing. The Thing about ME is that sometimes I need a mother to hold me and comfort me. I can do it for Byron, and I did it for Andy, but my mother can't do it for me, wonderful and loving as she is, because of what it took to survive the death of my sister when we were little. (See previous posts... I'm sure I've mentioned this! At least a few times!) She comforts herself with simple platitudes, and is on overload with all the sadness. I can't add to it.
So I'm saying to Jennifer that I can try to mother myself... and that I have a few friends... and YOU all... and that I am going to see my therapist Mary soon (postponed it after this morning... too much for one day!) ... and maybe that I can try to train my husband to just hold me and let me cry... but she said again that I need a soft female to sob into... and she was right. And she was the one. I sobbed, and she held me, and patted my hair, and said it's ok baby. Many times.
I snuffled and sobbed and said that I want connection more than anything on earth, but I am losing my family. I lost my sister, I lost my husband (Larry, Andy and Byron's father) and I lost Andy and I will lose my parents and I do feel very alone sometimes. It was very nice to be held, to feel MY inner child safely seen and heard and loved. I can give myself 'permission' to be emotional until the cows come home, but actually finding the window for it to happen is quite something else.
We talked about letting people IN. The thing is: at one extreme, I'm highly functional on the outside but all curled up with grief and pain deep inside, and at the other I'd be unable to put one foot in front of the other and sharing my nightmare with every single human who I encounter. The thing is: finding my healthy place on that continuum.
Other bits o' conversation: Jennifer also said it's a useless myth that families always get bigger... that as loving as we are we won't always have lots of people to love, and that's hard to accept. We talked about grandbabies (which I may never have, completely contrary to all the assumptions I had made as a girl and young mother) and how to protect the energy and keep myself ok with this journey. We talked about the cosmos, my spiritual viewpoint (non-theistic) and where Andy 'is' now.
I feel better at this point. For now, and that's good enough.
xoxoxo Sarah
Replies