I feel compelled to write tonight. I’m should-ing on myself a lot. I know I shouldn’t do that (SHOULDn’t do that, Lord I can’t stop!) but it’s now seeping into every aspect of my mind and my decisions and I hate when that happens.
There is the all familiar wall that has just gone up inside my chest. Protecting my heart. From what? Or preventing me from feeling her secrets? I don’t know. Suddenly I feel sick. And blocked, in my chest. Stop. Breathe. Believe.
I am not here to judge you.
I am here to help you.
I am here to heal you.
I inhale deeply, I exhale deeply. I let go. A little.
Tonight the story that I am telling myself is that I should be a better mother. I remind myself I’m doing the best I can, but the should-er in me says ‘yes but that’s not good enough; not as good as you would like. You can do better.’ She’s true, and she’s right.
Today I read a beautiful lesson from a woman who died too young to cancer in her twenties. She reminds us to embrace what is truly important and let go of the little stressors (even the chipped nail,) and celebrate our lives and our relationships and our trivial petty illnesses that aren’t life threatening. I am in a deep web of allergies; full body sneezes, and peeing when I sneeze (TMI, I know, we just became best friends if you’re reading this), and less mobile being pregnant, and less energised, and depleted to Lord knows what kind of allergen that my body is ruthlessly fighting back on as if it was cancer. Maybe it is; but I’ll choose not to believe that. And perhaps that’s where today’s ‘should’ started. I should be able to control my body better than this at fighting allergies that aren’t ‘there.’ I shouldn’t be so pained by something that isn’t fatal, but is oh so debilitating while I go through it. It’s a bit like when I told Dr Woods that I didn’t have a right to feel sorry because people go through much worse than I do. My mother taught me that. Dr Woods gave me a voice, she told me my problems were MY most serious and I had a right to address them. Maybe that beautiful soul’s letter made me feel bad about feeling bad about this. She’s right, I shouldn’t. But I should… but I shouldn’t.
I don’t know where this leaves me other than talking in circles and feeling awful so I guess it’s time for bed. I will close my eyes and tell my beautiful borrowed body that it is safe; we are not under attack, there is no major threat, we are safe, I am okay. Better than okay. I have a beautiful life, and beautiful boys, I just wish I wasn’t allergic to it.
Maybe this is a process. Maybe this is still me playing it safe, with cute Instagram quotes hidden behind a handle that isn’t my name. Maybe I’m still at arm’s length when it comes to sharing emotions that not EVERYONE will like. Maybe my envelope is still glued to the desk with no way of pushing it yet. Who knows. Maybe I’m scared that moving to Avalon Beach will erase my efforts. Maybe I’m afraid that staying here will keep me stagnant, and sneezing. Maybe all my maybes and my shoulds should maybe go fuck themselves. I don’t know.
“I’ve been afraid of changin’,
Cause I’ve built my life around you.
But time makes you bolder, even children get older,
I’m getting older too…”
- Landslide, Fleetwood Mac
Maybe they’re useful, and I should listen to them more. But for tonight, I’m powering down.
Big love, and bigger anti histamines to you, beautiful one.
K x
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