Monday, June 7, 2010

The Path


I had to confront my fears this week. I did. My husband is back to work and that means the day dream that was our reality is shifting again. I feel a great sense of accomplishment and yet, a great sense of dread came over me a few nights ago. I sobbed like a baby. Back to a new kind of grind. A good kind. But I am afraid.

Our daughter has been somewhat of a handful lately. At first, I blamed it on the notion that there seemed to be a conflict with the things we teach her at home in comparison to the things she is picking up at school and I was faced with the desire to keep her home. I have often thought it would be better for her to learn at home, at her own pace, which is different from her peers sometimes. She is like an old sage in a child's body I think. She knows things. She sees things with her heart that she can't seem to express. She seems to get easily overwhelmed and takes any and all information from all sensory responses and tries to knit it all together into something she can understand. But, the trick is there is no way to understand it all. I don't. Nobody does. How do I tell this to her in a way that won't make it worse?

We manage. We talk and talk and talk together like old friends. She loves to draw and color. I bought her a box of Crayola's this past weekend and that seemed to ease things off... Back to being a child again she went. She knew the path well. She travels back and forth upon it all the time time time. Nothing beckons you back to your youth and the joyful side of life like a fresh box of crayons. At least for us creative types. We see the world through strange eyes. We wonder if we are really even meant to be here. Or, we wonder when the truth will come out and all the disorder will be laughed off the stage once and for all and peace will finally take root... My mind drifts. I think these things over.

So, I cried my eyes out. My husband sat next to me and he listened. He held my hand, he listened. I cried. I unloaded it all. I am afraid. I am afraid of my own weakness. I am afraid of spiders. I am afraid of being alone. I am afraid to lose someone I love. I am afraid to mourn. I am afraid of sorrow... she is an evil partner and we've danced together too long already. I want to see the sun but I am so afraid of everything everything everything.

The tears poured down. They flowed like rain.

I am weak. I am so tired of being weak. I want to be strong. I don't want to be afraid anymore.

"So" he said. "Don't be," he said.

And it was that simple.

And I went to bed and woke feeling groggy and puffy but better. Happier. Lighter. Released.

I looked into my human eyes of blue. I looked into the mirror. I can do this, I said to myself. I can live this life. I can strengthen myself. I can muster my faith and I can kill a spider if I have to. Or release it. It will depend on the urgency of the circumstance, won't it?

From this point on my daughter's heightened anxieties seemed to ebb. I wondered, did she sense my discontent? I think she may have. She was happy when her father tucked her in tonight and now? She sleeps like a baby.

My son never doubted me. Never for a minute. He sleeps like a knight in shining armor and so he is... To me. He's been rescuing people since the day he was born.

Amen.

Hallelujah.

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