Something as simple as “I miss mommy” should remain inside.
For long, I kept everything inside. My thoughts. My feelings. My wants, needs and desires. And I kept them from everyone, even myself.
I knew they were there, but in a place I didn’t often reach for. Maybe from fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of vulnerability. But, essentially, a fear, an armour that kept them contained.
And, now, in the limbo of grief, pain, and deep introspection, my armour is slowly falling off, exposing emotions that I’ve not practiced, nor mastered by any means. And I’m realizing I’m far from perfect in handling them.
At times, my heart now moves faster than my mind. My feelings and emotions take over my language. And while I practice restraint and patience with one person in particular, I’m not as restrained elsewhere.
And it’s having an impact I’ve only just realized and in souls far too young to fully comprehend or bear the responsibility of adult challenges.
My kids.
Things slip. As I said, my emotions run faster than my ruminating mind. I let things slip from my mouth without realizing how they land. My body shows level of care and connection that feel… different. Different to me and different to them.
Hugs that last longer. Words that hint at my sadness and longing.
“I miss mommy.”
“I wish she were here.”
“It’s lonely in the basement.”
My kids hear this, see through it, and feel a sense of responsibility to help me. To soothe me. To carry me.
I never intended to use them for emotional support, nor should I. It’s not fair to them to be exposed to situations they don’t fully know, understand, or to instil in them a sense they need to fix or help. They’re kids.
Yes, I messed up. I’ve realized the faults in my subtle words and actions and the implications they’ve had both on my kids and the marriage I’m trying to save.
I still have a lot of learning to do to understand how to control the new emotions I’ve relegated to the deeper reaches of my mind for so long.
It’s slow work. Painful. Imperfect. But it’s work nonetheless.
And I’m sure I’ll make many missteps again, but the important part is learning from them, understanding how little things can have broad impacts and consequences.
And it’s also a stark reminder how, just when you think you’re doing well (and I use that term loosely), you can be reminded that you’re not doing that well at all.
Some days will feel good(ish). Some days will start great and end horribly (like today). Some will start horrible and end great. Some days will beat you down to a pulp. Other days you’ll feel great, on top of the world, owner of your own destiny.
Again, it’s painful and likely unrewarding work if your goal is single and narrow. Mine is not.
I will learn. I will improve. I will be proud of who I become. And I will persist in the paths that are presented to me.
My kids, my family… they don’t need me to be perfect. They’re not asking for that. Maybe I’m asking that of myself, and that’s wrong. impossible even.
Steady, on the other hand, is what everyone needs. That’s my work to figure out.