Even the strongest swimmers can only flail for so long.
I try to enjoy the wind as it reaches me here in the open window’d car.
I hear the leaves talk too.
It brings me you
and the absence settles.
This brings me only memories and reminders that have impacted me enough,
to be able to come to me this way.
I try to enjoy it
but I only wish you were here
and that the breeze was not.
” I wonder,
if you could choose how to miss me, how would you? “
” I wouldn’t. ‘Cause I’d have you.”
Do you miss a person?
Take that idea and hold it in your heart. Now we’re going to inspect.
Perhaps you just miss the feelings he created within you. How he or she made you feel clever, hopeful or even better as a person. Perhaps she was a creative outlet in which you were appreciated- for your wacky brain, your confidence in creating. Maybe you don’t miss him at all but all the things he provided. Safety, stability, being cared for. Even the person you were when you were with him.
It may be that you don’t really miss who she is as a person, but rather the world of what it meant to have someone there. To connect with and share with.
Really let your heart feel out on all angles, what this miss actually is for.
Next I want you to ask yourself what of that miss, you can supply on your own.
Getting into a comfortable relationship with yourself is so incredibly important but it’s often the thing we focus on the least.
Administer the value on yourself, yourself. Take moments to actually laugh at how silly you are being or how radical you know your mind is. Validate your beautiful existence yourself. If this means making a sticker chart and rewarding each recognition with an end of the week treat? Then do so.
Fill this ‘miss’ void as much as possible. Wrap up love and give that gift to yourself over and over again.
In the end, you’ll find you are much stronger and funner then you thought you were and whatever miss you felt for a person or a place,is less- simply because you’re able to produce the feeling of being cared for, yourself.
May I remind you too, you don’t need someone else to make you better. If you like who you are when you are ‘better’, go be that without the crutch of someone else.
If you can do that, your ‘better’ just got a whole lot better.
My sons father hasn’t seen his son in one year and three months.
It was a sacrifice he chose. For me. For his son.
I still love the man because he is good. He just wasn’t right for me.
In five days he will meet his son.
Because his son is altogether new. Unfamiliar. Different then the last time.
So yesterday, I got the burst of a new feel.
I am excited to show him our son.
For him to represent my hard work and dedication of over a year.
I am responsible for his manners and his voice. The words he uses and his diaperless bum. I am the reason behind a lot of the good things and of course, some of the bad.
I am excited to show him the being we made and how it is no longer a 7 pound wriggle, but a 31 pound child that hugs hugs-the best I’ve ever had.
He’s my heart beating reason,
and I’m excited to show him that.
I had a breakdown yesterday. I sat outside on the wooden chairs, facing away from the house with my guitar in hand and sobbed till there was a puddle at my feet. I was involuntarily moving and for the first time in years, I felt fear for my behaviour. I felt panic rise, my stomach going in and out while my hands clenched and unclenched the wooden table.
With ‘Love More and Worry Less’ in my ears, I looked up at the tree and I desired to be right under it. So I stood and laid down on the wooden patio, straight out like a board and I watched the leaves twinkle in and out and I watched the sky flicker between them and I closed my eyes and I wanted sleep.
And then my husband and son were standing over me and I was getting up and I was putting a bottle in the stroller and then son in the stroller and telling husband I was going to walk to Family Mart.
I got a bottle of rum and Coke Zero and I sat down outside while Zeek drank his bottle and I poured my rum into the Coke Zero and we sat watching traffic drinking from bottles.
And later that evening after son goes to bed I will desperately feel a need to call anyone from Canada and I will sit on the bed frantically punching in numbers on my Thai cellphone and will slowly realise that I do not have enough credit. Husband will come upstairs and hand me his phone and I will call my mother and while she sits in a bank parking lot across the world I will sob to her for twenty three minutes and I will tell her it is the unhappiest I have been.
And it is not until I hang up, that the significance of the statement confronts me. I have been telling myself and others that I’m happy but could be happier, not that I’m unhappy or sad .
I pick up Toast, my teddy bear that is larger than me, grab a sheet from the spare bedroom closet and I open the door to the balcony off our bedroom. I lay down with Toast while cars pass below and I fall asleep.
I awake to husband standing over me and I get up and I fall sleep in the bed but it takes me awhile and I do not have a good sleep.
I am unhappy and I have finally said it out loud.
I’ve finally admitted I am.