Today has been hard. Really hard. There is so much I want to say, but let it suffice that I’ve spent the better part of the past five hours crying. Parenting is hard. Parenting a sensitive six year old in the aftermath of his parents’ unexpected divorce is even harder.
I am exhausted and overwhelmed. I try so hard, and I just don’t know if I’m doing the right things. I left the pediatrician’s office in tears this afternoon and have hardly stopped crying since.
We walked in for a regular well-check, and I can’t even explain the bizarre behavior and tantrum that came from my child. Punching, hitting, and biting me. The nurses were completely shocked, as was I. I’ve been taking him to this same small office since his birth, and they’ve never seen this from him. They weren’t giving a shot. There was no threat. I asked him to pee in a cup, and next thing I knew, we were leaving the office without the exam because he was so beside himself, there was no way it would happen. He was delirious with fear and anger.
I walk a fine line here – and in my everyday conversations with those I’m close to – a fine line between being honest and trying to focus on the good around me. I’m trying so hard to follow the smallest sliver of light toward wherever it will lead. And I want to see that good emerge, so I look for it when I can.
But some days just suck. Sometimes it’s just hard. I get chided a lot from their father that everything I write is designed to make me look “like a martyr,” and I pray that is not true because I do not see myself that way at all. I am not a martyr. I am not persecuted and suffering. I am strong and resilient, and in most moments I am happy. But I refuse to gloss over the hard stuff all the time.
There are three people in this house who are all aching with growing pains, and some days it is really painful to feel and to watch.
I want every single person reading here to be honest and call me out if you see me as trying to appear like a persecuted saint. It is not my intention, but I fear it is what people might think sometimes.
I am not. I mess up everyday, and I take full responsibility for my actions. I’m trudging through some really messy territory right now, and it is not always pretty. There are days when I feel like nothing I could do will mend what has happened. My swollen eyes are evidence of that right now. It is hard – and that is not because I am a saint; that’s because it’s life. Life is messy and sometimes full of shit that I frankly don’t want to deal with, but I am expected to guide these two kids through this patch in front of us, so I have to deal with it whether I want to or not.
This space is really important to me. It is more than a website to me, and I want it to continue to feel sacred. I feel that I’ve written myself through some dark moments, and I can see the thread of my own expanding consciousness, my own growing character, as I read posts from the past few months.
And 99% of you offer so much support and a sense of community that I need badly. But sometimes I wonder if it is worth it when anything I write here is dissected by a few people, and some of you who leave encouraging comments or dare to click a “like” button even receive unsolicited personal messages educating you on all the million ways that I am a terrible person and the multitude of reasons you shouldn’t show me love or respect.
How do you do it, fellow bloggers? How do you feel free to write in spite of the nay-sayers? It’s the one in one hundred complex…. If 100 people in the room love you and one doesn’t, you focus on the one. It leaves me so frustrated with myself, but I can’t help it. Sometimes the one is so loud and so close to your own ear that it begins to steal the joy from the other 100.
I intend to take a break from this space for the rest of the year. Rest assured that I am still writing somewhere – in half-finished documents I hurriedly type or in scattered bedside notebooks. But I am taking a break from posting here until I can gain some strength and resolve to hear my own voice strong enough that others can’t drown it out.
I want this to be my space again, that small and quiet room where I can come to reflect and refresh. I don’t want to let a small few bully me into silence or steal it from me. But to be totally honest, right now it feels a little stolen. I just need to find a way to claim it back again without feeling like I am under a microscope. Especially at a time when I have fought so hard and for so long to sound my own voice.
It’s just a pause button. I’ll be back in 2016 to gain some strength again from all of you. Wishing you peace and gratitude in the last weeks of the year.