My heart was racing. My head was about to explode. I just wanted her to leave me alone. I just wanted the questions to stop. I just wanted to sit down for a good 15 minutes please with no one asking me for anything.
Dear Mother God, was all I could say.
My voice edged nearer desperation. I can feel my hands slowly curling up into hardened fists. My jaw tightening around my face. The heat rising from my belly.
Thankfully, I remember. And I unclench. I breathe. I surrender.
Damn it. I hate having these moments.
But I’m human. And I live in a world trying to break me, mold me, chain me, suffocate me, brainwash me ALL THE FREAKING TIME into thinking I have no choice. No power. No worth.
Just because I make the same mistakes.
Just because I’m slow to learn sometimes.
Just because I am not PERFECT.
Oh but there is where my power comes from.
In my imperfections. In my failures. In the slow unfolding.
I kneel on the ground and I say I am sorry. My eyes could tell the whole story. And she listens. And she hears me. I tell her mama is still learning. How to take care of myself. And be wholly brilliantly ME. And that we are learning together. She looks at me, and softly says, I just want you to be happy mama.
And immediately, I saw that she already knew what I am trying to get back to.
She already knew how to take care of herself. (No, she can’t cook her own meals but she knows how to get herself fed since she was a baby.) She already knew how to be wholly and brilliantly herself. She already knew how to be happy.
It was in fact, her natural state.
And it was mine too. Once.
I’ve been reading a lot of James Altucher lately. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to him. Maybe because I want to write like him. I want to stop hiding behind pretty words. I want to write naked. And write about sex. money. the things I am thinking about that I am so afraid to share. Because I like his 10 commandments. Because I want to choose ME too.
I see how my child daily chooses herself. And maybe it rubs me the wrong way because, well, I’ve been taught to believe that it’s wrong to choose me. That it’s selfish! It’s ungodly! Especially as a mother.
What kind of mother chooses herself?
The kind of mother this world desperately needs.
The kind of mother who values and validates her children when they choose themselves.
The kind of mother who trusts that LOVE is love, whether it’s directed towards ourselves or others. And that perhaps LOVE always flows from the inside out.
The kind of mother who will gladly help others, in ways that feel GOOD to herself FIRST.
The kind of mother who wants the whole world to choose themselves too.
This morning, I chose myself.
I woke up super early because my nephew got dropped off at ridiculously early hour, before the sprinklers even went off. Before, I would have gone all out doing my best to entertain and make someone else happy. And I kinda did. I sat there. While he obviously was happy watching something on Youtube. While I sat there thinking of how to make him happy. When he was already happy.
And I wasn’t.
So I stood up, put on my running pants and told him I would be out for a nice brisk walk. And I did. My husband and daughter were sleeping and everything outside was still. As it if waiting for me to join in the beauty.
As if it was waiting for me to choose myself.