Afternoon Musings
5/17/2009 06:23:00 PM 2 Comments »
Every once in a while, I have a moment to relax and take an inventory of my life. I ponder the delicateness of this life and the sometimes fleeting relationships that make up our lives coupled with the intense interpersonal bonds that we forge and maintain our grip on as seconds turn to years before our eyes.
I think about being seventeen and seeing my husband for the first time. I felt a pulsing ache, a need to be held by him and enveloped by the heat that I just knew we would generate. Of course, that was a relationship that ended in a ball of flame reminiscent of the fire that began the affair.
I think about the need-to-fill-a-void feeling that followed that relationship. I stumbled into the poisonous relationship with the young man who had no home and was horribly in need of someone to love him-or so I thought. Instead, he wanted someone to join him on his sinking ship.
In the middle of it all, I had two sons. Those two boys changed everything. Everything I ever wanted for myself flowed miraculously from my heart to theirs as they grew inside me. Every dream I ever dared to dream suddenly became theirs. I wanted to be so much more because of them. They were my hope for something better. I belonged to them.
I think about the years being beaten and berated, all the while shielding my sons, emotionally and physically, from a man who shared their DNA. I wonder who that girl was and why she believed what he yelled at her. I'm embarrassed by her frailty and desperation.
From there, my mind wanders to the sense of failure intermingled with exaltation and freedom as I emerged from that emotionally debilitating arrangement. I found my wings at the same time as I realized my limitations. I wanted to build a life for them, and for me, but I was a wreck, a shell.
Finding my husband, after all those years of not seeing him, was amazing. I was drawn to him, almost like there was a magnet in my core that pulled me to where he was. We are lucky to have each other. And because of this, I believe in fate, destiny.
From that love, that intense nuclear explosion of heat, came our little man. Everyone in our circle dotes on him. He is the connection to all of us-he made us a family.
Finally, I think about who I am now. All of those years of catastrophe resulted in me having built a facade that sometimes crumbles under pressure. I'm unsatisfied. Don't get me wrong, I have a great family, amazing friends, and I know that I'm lucky. However, I look in the mirror and see all of those faults: I'm fat, my hair is too frizzy, I still break out-at 35!- my legs are blotchy, I occasionally have a rogue facial hair that is embarrassing, my kids do stupid things and get bad grades, I am often tired, I'm not as smart as I want to be, I should be done with school by now, I am far too judgemental, I still want another baby, despite knowing that we can't afford it, I should volunteer at the kids' schools more often, etc.
Even after all that I've been through, all that I've worked for...failure is just around the corner, looming, mocking me-just as judgemental as I am.
Peace Out,
Mom
I think about being seventeen and seeing my husband for the first time. I felt a pulsing ache, a need to be held by him and enveloped by the heat that I just knew we would generate. Of course, that was a relationship that ended in a ball of flame reminiscent of the fire that began the affair.
I think about the need-to-fill-a-void feeling that followed that relationship. I stumbled into the poisonous relationship with the young man who had no home and was horribly in need of someone to love him-or so I thought. Instead, he wanted someone to join him on his sinking ship.
In the middle of it all, I had two sons. Those two boys changed everything. Everything I ever wanted for myself flowed miraculously from my heart to theirs as they grew inside me. Every dream I ever dared to dream suddenly became theirs. I wanted to be so much more because of them. They were my hope for something better. I belonged to them.
I think about the years being beaten and berated, all the while shielding my sons, emotionally and physically, from a man who shared their DNA. I wonder who that girl was and why she believed what he yelled at her. I'm embarrassed by her frailty and desperation.
From there, my mind wanders to the sense of failure intermingled with exaltation and freedom as I emerged from that emotionally debilitating arrangement. I found my wings at the same time as I realized my limitations. I wanted to build a life for them, and for me, but I was a wreck, a shell.
Finding my husband, after all those years of not seeing him, was amazing. I was drawn to him, almost like there was a magnet in my core that pulled me to where he was. We are lucky to have each other. And because of this, I believe in fate, destiny.
From that love, that intense nuclear explosion of heat, came our little man. Everyone in our circle dotes on him. He is the connection to all of us-he made us a family.
Finally, I think about who I am now. All of those years of catastrophe resulted in me having built a facade that sometimes crumbles under pressure. I'm unsatisfied. Don't get me wrong, I have a great family, amazing friends, and I know that I'm lucky. However, I look in the mirror and see all of those faults: I'm fat, my hair is too frizzy, I still break out-at 35!- my legs are blotchy, I occasionally have a rogue facial hair that is embarrassing, my kids do stupid things and get bad grades, I am often tired, I'm not as smart as I want to be, I should be done with school by now, I am far too judgemental, I still want another baby, despite knowing that we can't afford it, I should volunteer at the kids' schools more often, etc.
Even after all that I've been through, all that I've worked for...failure is just around the corner, looming, mocking me-just as judgemental as I am.
Peace Out,
Mom
