A Mother’s Regret

  I saw it.  I saw it with my heart and eyes.  It wasn’t what I present, a message or concept I push forth.  I saw it.  I saw what I am.  I saw a genuine moment, a reality that lives on the outskirts of my perception.  I saw the reality my children endure.  They are here with me, I realized.
I turn my back to my children.  I don’t mean it.  I stay in one spot, a bubble I created. I thought this bubble was protection.  A place where I can freely allow my imagination-verses-reality form.  I thought I was protecting them, they, who love me like I loved my mother.  I push them to the outskirts.  I push them as if I am on some track and I am saving them from an oncoming speeding train.

I live in a state of immobilization contrasted with chaos.  My movement is internal.  Inside myself, I am dreaming and loving and crying and reconfiguring and understanding and exploring and giving and receiving and manifesting.  All this is happening while I lay completely utterly still, my physical reality frozen. 

My children’s system doesn’t come from me, or so I thought.  I have survived years of living one moment to the next never knowing what to expect. And of course, I fought to control uncontrollable situations until I froze.  I am completely and utterly still as anything goes wrecks havoc on their sense of order, which ultimately affects their sense of trust, security and self love.  Ironically, these states are the exact ones I am seeking and building internally.  The same human rights that I am fighting for.  I am running against time!  I am praying and hoping and doing this spiritual work so I can service my children with exactly what I lack.  I desire most to be capable to give them what they need.  I go between praying they survive me to praying I am empowered through restoration. I surrender them to God to I surrender myself to God.  

I saw it.  My son took a video of me.  I was in my spot.  My face towards the window and my back towards him.  My eyes were closed, my hair unkempt, no pillowcases on the pillows. I am perfectly still except for my hand reaching, waving, collecting prayers.  What I wasn’t aware of is that while I was reaching for something in my imagination, my son was reaching for me, just his hand gently enters the scene.  He places a single hand softly on my back, then, he takes his hand away. 

“I made a choice. No matter what, I feel what I feel when I feel it. Recognize, acknowledge, process. I know it is the only path my emotional body can take towards healing. I must go through it completely and fully be aware of the context of my feelings. That is my hope. My wellness is my children’s wellness. I must focus on my path to wellness because surely, the loves of my life, my children, shall follow”.

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