I Get So Frustrated!

Writing about myself is one of the hardest things I’ve ever tried to do. Yet I can’t stop trying. I need to get my words out, if for no one other than myself. I get so frustrated when reading others blogs. I love to read them and enjoy the content of their posts, but I find myself getting lost in envy over their fluidity of total expression. I wonder, do they struggle like I do? Do they sit at a little wooden desk and fret for countless days, months and hours…agonizing over every word, writing and re-writing…walking away and returning? Whenever I’m not in front of my computer I feel like I am about to burst at the seems. There is so much that wants to come out. Why is it so hard?!

Just when I think that I’ve figured it all out and am ready to open up the flood gates I go dry again. Where is inspiration? Isn’t it enough to live the story that I want to tell? My words feel emotionless and sterile. Yes, that would best describe it. Perhaps I’m trying to hard. Perhaps it just me and my disconnection to life. My mind won’t allow me to feel the fullness of my emotions. I guess it would be too much. Maybe I should just close my eyes and breathe… All I can see are words floating around in space…taunting me…haunting me. Memories flash before my eyes, yet I still feel nothing. I think I want to cry and scream, but I can’t. There’s nothing there…

I looked into the mirror once and saw a women mentally bludgeoned. I’ve been violated in every possible way. My spirit battered, broken and left for dead. My girth increasing and decreasing…increasing and decreasing…increasing and decreasing… I am OBESE!! I am UGLY!! I am UNWANTED!! I am UNLOVABLE!! There’s no escape. I’m going crazy, I need to release. Please God help me!!!!

I can walk through a house of mirrors and never see my own reflection. Conditioned to ignore the obvious. I live an illusion. I always have. Where there should have been love…there was none. Where there should have been protection…there was none. Where there should have been comfort…there was none. Where there should have been laughter, joy, fun, adventure…there was none. I have been imprisoned by life, my parents, my conditions and even my own mind… Flawed from head to toe…inside and out. I am queen of the misfits…discarded like a broke Christmas ornament. I want to see beauty, but I can’t. I know beauty lives inside. I want to be beautiful on the outside. I can’t see myself because I don’t want to. I don’t want to face the ugly truth. My friends, they tell me I’m beautiful, but they are just being kind.

I crawl out of my hole and begin to pick up the pieces. I try to make sense of what’s left of my life. I put on the face of strength for my child. I don’t want him to see me broken even though he already knows that I am. You see, he knows first hand the pain that is mine. When he was a toddler we used to visit my parents on the weekends. It would take most of the day for me to manage the thought… Hours of crying and vomiting and then slowing getting ready to face the beast. My dad, never satisfied, would always criticize me. One day it had gotten so bad that my precious little one ran over to me, jumped onto my lap and wrapped his arms around my neck…screaming and crying. He turned to look at my dad as if to say…leave my mommy alone. I hugged and kissed him and told him it was okay. We went home. There were many occasions like this, but I dare not miss a weekend. My parents insisted that we break bread together every Saturday. My mother still presenting the face of perfection. Still perpetuating the lie. Will it ever stop?

My parents are gone now. Would it be wrong for me to say that I am grateful? Should I feel guilty for feeling this way? My son can since that I am still haunted by my past. It is on those days that he hugs me and rubs my face to ensure me that it’s okay. I look at him in think how precious he is. He is perfect. He will never know the beatings, ridicule, disconnection, blame and hate that I endured. If only I too had been so precious to my parents.

I relish the joy and peace that we have in our home. My son will never have to question if he is loved. He will never feel the pain I felt. I thank God for that. I thank God that he made me strong enough to break the curse. I thank God for the blessing of my son and the gift of motherhood. Thank you God for showing me what parenting should be… How love should feel… What peace is…

It is because of my love for my son and my quest for healing that I take this journey. I want my son to have the absolute best of me. I want to be free. Not stuffing my pain, but releasing and letting it go…completely. That is my goal. And I will achieve this even if it takes me one letter at a time…

 

Related articles

• Terrific Terrible Twos (cgpbrowning.wordpress.com)
• Cameron Day at Ascension Help: The Birth Bump – Being Born in the Wrong Family (jhaines6.wordpress.com)
• Parenting and Stress Management (everydayhealth.com)
• Admitting how hard parenting is, and recentering on the positives (frompracticetoparenting.wordpress.com)
• Parenting a Child With ADHD (everydayhealth.com)
• Reassessing Happiness Research: Are New Parents Really That Miserable? (herstoriesproject.com)

Song and Sniffles pt. 1 (Repost)

Today I’m seeing another leap in my son. He’s becoming so mature. It’s a little hard for me facing the fact that he’s growing up so fast, but at the same time I celebrate his accomplishments, his growing desire to learn more, try harder and achieve. This is monumental…

Hunt enjoys being in a music/speech therapy group called Voices Together. He seems to enjoy the group activity and is making friends, but reluctant to participate in the actual singing. Hunt loves every aspect of music and even shows an interest in learning to play a few instruments…drums, piano and guitar for now. He’s the oldest in the group by a year or so and his general demeanor depicts a measure of boredom as I guess it would be with any teenager who’s not totally committed to the cause. Whatever the case, he seems to enjoy himself, so I press on.

Each semester the children learn a new song. This semester’s song is very long and a popular hit. Fortunately we are to learn the chorus, only. I bring the words home and find the song on YouTube. We listen and then I sing… My son shows little interest as he usually does when embarking upon something new. It takes more than one exposure to something new before he reacts to it. Well, unless it’s a food item he does not like. That is when I can expect the tale-tale wiggling of the fingers accompanied by a very clear and stern “no” or “do not.”

I played the song several times, always encouraging Hunt to sing along if only a single world. He refuses, but does so with a sheepish grin. That tells me he’s receptive to my proposed notion, but will comply in his own time. There’s more school work to be done, so we’ll try the song again on another day.

Time for group again and as usual Hunt is eager to go. He runs into the classroom and greets everyone and takes a seat. The therapist “K” plays her keyboard and begins to sing. Hunt sits and listens to everyone singing and he grins. Song recognition is wonderful, but I do so want him to sing a little. “K” encourages Hunt to sing, but he only points and requests to play the piano. I clap and cheer at the end of the song and tell all, job well done. Hunt grins again and begins to clap. I am happy that he gets so much enjoyment out of this group. Perhaps one day he will sing along with the rest of his peers.

Today after finishing school work Hunt pointed to the YouTube icon and grabbed the clipboard having the words to the song we’ve been practicing. He waited with anticipation for the song to start and was particularly interested in the icons I clicked. As soon as the song began to play, he grabbed a pen, started rocking and pointed to the words of the chorus that were in front of him. At the appropriate time he began to sing the chorus. Oh my goodness, he’s signing the song!! I stared for a moment and then left him on his own to process the song in his own way. He must have played that song 20 times. I think he sang for about 30 or so minutes. He worked so hard to sing as much of that song as he could. And he did exceptionally well I might add. He sang and sang and I shed a joyful tear. He sang until he was satisfied and then announced that he was done. We have another group meeting tonight. I don’t know if he’s going to sing or not, but I know for sure that he’s learning this song. I guess I’ll have to wait and see. I’m so excited. Okay, time to get dressed.

I’ll be sure to let you all know what happened when we get back…