Staying Strong
He comes home today. I feel relief. No, that’s just a piece of what I feel. Outweighing that, I feel frantic, scared, so ready to just squeeze him and feel that peace. So ready to make eye contact, physical contact - to feel safe again - emotionally, mostly I guess. Admitting all of that feels weak, vulnerable, quite pathetic.
I am admittedly fully on edge today. The edge of the cliff that I may just cry at any second. It’s this horrible, frustrating feeling. I want to be productive and I am doing a half way job at that. Yesterday, Christmas Day, broke me. There, I said it.
Now, I am more exposed and my heart wants to just freeze over. Yesterday, he cried on Facetime begging me to “fix it” so he could be home. I watched the brave fade from his being as he looked at me and said “I just want to be home with you.” In his eyes, I saw his tender little soul break down. “Mom, can’t you talk to may dad and tell him I want to be home tomorrow, not Sunday. Sunday is too long.”
Damn it. It was only 9am. My heart. My walls all crumbled and I, too, lost my brave. I turned to mush and sad. Deep sadness, it feels like joint pain as it shoots through every inch of my body and my heart feels intensely heavy.
I hear myself internally; “Find your breath, Dot. Breathe. Breathe peace back into your body. Do NOT go into fight or flight. Stay present.”
You see, he still believes I can save him much in the same way that he believes in the magic of Santa. However, I am working on helping him find his own voice so he can express his needs and feelings to people other than me, people like his dad. So, I lied and told him I would text his dad and asked him to get a snack. “Mom, I’m not crying because I’m hungry. I am sad and I want to be home.”
I’d be lying if I said that every minute since that conversation hasn’t been hard. I’m working hard on not letting victim thoughts creep in that tell me I’m not good enough, that I can’t save him, that this is all my fault. Those thoughts are bullshit leaking in that keep up small and have no purpose other then to bring total destruction.
Today, I went to CrossFit because it normally pivots everything for me. That trick DID NOT work today. Today, I wanted to quit. It wasn’t actually a hard workout physically. But mentally, I shut down. I wanted to scream and quit every second of it. My fingers were so cold that I couldn’t feel them and I figured that qualified as not actually quitting. I think I even did an extra set of everything because I was so focused on my exit plan that counting felt unimportant. The thoughts were swirling…. “I could just go wash my hands in warm water for awhile and hit the time cap. What is the damn time cap today???”
I finished - not fast - quite slow actually. But my legs ran and somehow kept me in the workout and I finished to the entire class waiting for me and cheering me on. Dead last, but I didn’t quit.
I can do hard things. Some of those things are actually just letting myself feel - the numb fingers and the feelings of sadness, the shackles of not being able to save my little man. And most of all, the false face of “staying strong.” It’s fake. I’m not fine. And that, is okay. This is the kind of pain that when we feel it, it is actually there sending us messages of love. It is the kind of pain that is there to bring me into the life that is serving the most authentic me. Truth, is needed. Truth is, I’m not okay and that is human.
Tonight though, his empty bed will be filled again. He talked to his dad and I got a text from him around noon that he will drop him off at 4pm. By the time you read this, he very well might be in my arms…. or at least in the house because by then he might also forget how much he missed me.
Today, I am grateful for my tribe. The tribe who sends texts and cheers me on and holds space for all of this hurt.
I am grateful for my home; the home my BFG and I are building for these boys.
I am grateful that my little boy is learning to express his needs and his feelings and those are being met.
Hug your littles close my friends. They are precious and will all too soon be too big for hugs, kisses, and snuggles and they won't ask us to even tuck them in and they won’t ask us to rescue them.
BIG LOVE,
Dot
