I’ve been feeling riled up and at the end of my rope. I have my list of reasons why my life is challenging right now. I have my bag of feelings telling me: this is too hard, I need to find a way out, I can’t do this, I’m failing. I’m keeping struggle and conflict nearby, like they are part of my identity.
I’m tired. I’m edgy. I’m “this close” to biting your head off.
Like a wounded animal, I snarl and back into my cave. Don’t fuck with me.
I can taste the blood in my mouth, the blood of this heart I’ve been carrying around, and I realize that it is MY heart. The anger and frustration are in vain because they only lead back to self-sabotage.
Bruises are blooming upon the mind that keeps punching itself. But once you’re in a downward spiral, none of this matters. You are drunk on this conviction that THIS IS ALL WRONG.
The blood leaks from the corners of my mouth.
I don’t know how to put my heart back in my body.
I don’t know how to find stillness in this world that is so very cracked.
I don’t know how to meet the standards it takes to be a “good mother,” a “good woman,” a “good human being.”
The satisfaction is always a step away, an achievement away, a validation away.
“I’m almost there.”
“I’m going to make it.”
“Everything is going to be okay.”
“My kids are going to turn out fine.”
“Someday, I will find love.”
But this is now.
Something in me is crying, because it is right here, and it always has been, and I’m so sorry I’ve forgotten again. I forgot it about you, and him, and her, and me and all of us.
Help me remember.
Help me find my way back when I’m lost like this.
Will you shine your light on the path that leads to the field that Rumi speaks of?
I had a dream last night, full of the usual busy-ness and nonsense. I had a million obligations. I felt judged. I was comparing myself to those around me. I harbored a list of the 5,642 reasons why I suck.
Suddenly, I was drawn to lie down on a hidden patch of grass, dappled in sunlight.
I lay down.
It was the sweetest thing.
That feeling of failure was so strong and I was so tired from it.
I let myself rest.
I was being given a gift, lying here in the sun. The chaos of the world was three feet away, but I was offered a respite, a moment of inactivity.
I didn’t earn that moment.
That moment didn’t fix me.
I didn’t escape my whereabouts or my looming obligations.
In that moment, as gave up on trying,
I felt loved.
And I was that love.