My Norah, keeping me honest...
How often do we say, “I’m fine; really,” to friends, family and loved ones alike? I say this expression constantly and got called on it twice in one week.
Ouch!
The first time was from a dear friend in Colorado, I was interested in hearing about a health crisis that she is facing. As a long time chronic disease sufferer, she wanted to hear about me first. I said, “Oh sweetie, I’m fine, let’s talk about you.” She called me on it, saying, “you are not fine, please share with me what is going on!” Well she was right, I was holding back, because I wanted to hear about her stuff. I minimized my pain, out of solidarity. Her struggles needed to be the topic of conversation, not mine. But, she wouldn’t have it, there was time for both.
The second time, was gut-wrenching. My Norah has had a miserable week. Many, many meltdowns, lots of tears, and just frankly struggling with the challenges and joys of being 8. So in a moment of desperation and true maternal concern; I grabbed her, curled up on the green couch, to get to the getting.
After a few minutes, the tears got flood worthy, and she shared that her “wishes” (birthday wishes, errant eye lashes, pennies in fountain) you name it; they never came true.
And then it came,
“My wish is that you won’t be sick, that your cough will go away forever, and that cold urticaria leaves our life.”
HAMMER moment... Huge, air sucking, leading to me desperately trying to hold back the tears.
But, I couldn't. I couldn't hold them back.
The tears for both of us, they just leaked out.
Earlier in the week, I scored some antibiotics for my awesome chronic bronchitis. I’m really good, not minimizing, considering some of the past episodes, this one is a piece of cake. Neither Jeff nor I were worried, we’ve got this. Time, medical attention and patience, and this episode will be in the rear view mirror.
But, for my Norah; past episodes have faded from her mind. This episode IS scary. Filled with lots of coughing, and a grey, tired and pale looking Mommy. She also witnessed, more than once this week, something I have done so many times, I don’t even think about it. Cough induced vomiting. Attractive, right?!
So that explains her state of mind. Unsettled and scared.
I tried to explain that just because I don’t voice everyday how angry, hurt, frustrated, and sad I am, doesn’t mean I don’t hate it every single day.
Then we walked through the ways that I managed my sadness: I have a very small and private core that hears me. They included the doctors and therapists she knows, and she also knows my close female confidants, and of course her beloved Daddy.
They hear me, and they love me while I say it. The anger, fear and disappointment.
I also explained that PilgrimageGal is my safe place. To share and give voice to my truth.
And while she understood (to the depths that her sweet little 8 year old body could), it was of small comfort. She had to comprehend a life in which wishes don’t always come true.
And as I wiped the tears from both our eyes with my sweatshirt, the other hammer came.
I told her that sometimes I just say, “I’m fine” to keep people from poking around the soft, painful edges that hurt. My closest friends call me an amazing liar. We all know that the pain of this life can be unbearable, if we let it.
I can’t and won’t acknowledge the depths of my hurt. Because it’s not going to change, I won’t ever wake up disease free. It’s not happening for me. My lungs are damaged, they will never fully heal.
Then hammer number two. “Mom, if you say you are fine when you aren't, well that’s lying and it’s wrong too.”
I mean ouch, ouch, ouch.
Norah resonates, doesn't she. She sees life in its complexity, but in a beautiful way. In the beauty of being 8. I told her I needed to really think about what she shared. Frankly, I needed a little prayer time.
So I took the time, to really sit with her observations...
And here is what I've got:
I have to work on my vulnerability, my openness. I have confused having a great attitude, being strong, making this life work, with being open and honest with my loved ones.
And when I say open, I need to allow myself the space to be open to the right people. And allow them to be open and honest to me. To give them the space to tell me they are worried, concerned, or upset that I’m not at my best.
I often work so hard to make the people that I love comfortable, at ease, I forget they need to mourn and grieve too.
And I need to let them.
I need to accept their love in all forms. And that love is sometimes painful. We forget that love at its core is raw. And we don’t do raw. Because love that is raw at times is grief. And no one likes that. No one.
The grief of my family, my husband, and those who love me. To grieve for the possibilities that won’t be, for the adventures we won’t take, for the wellness that can’t be given. And to understand that, I'm loved so deeply that those who love me want that and so much more for me.
And to allow myself to be vulnerable, and to sit within that painfully uncomfortable silence. I can be open to this part of love too. So I will take the time to stop and sit and realize the depths to which I am loved. And allow those who love me to worry and grieve.
But, not for long...
Grief should be acknowledged, but not given the space to linger. When it lingers, like a house guest who stays too long, it is unhealthy, and needs the help of a professional; a very, very good one.
I have the one day rule. You get to dwell, roll, process, mourn and wallow. But only for one day, if it’s really bad, maybe two. But, if it’s over two, I’m on the phone, raising the white flag calling on my team of experts to make sure it doesn't take on a life of its own.
Life is far too short, to stop and worry, wonder and consider what might have been. You lose the chance to make what will be. You have to “get to the getting” as I say all the time. To allow the possibilities of life to unfold, to share the beauty, wonder and joy that is this life. We always have far more blessing in this life, than we have loss, and it is in making the lemonade that we often find the sweetest gifts there are...
This week, allow yourself the possibility to be loved at your most basic. To find the room, the time and space to allow your love to be reflected on you. Be open to seeing who the Divine has placed in your life, so maybe this time you begin to grasp how special you are... To all of us.
As always and forever... the Divine in me bows to the Divine in you.
Namaste, my fellow Pilgrims. Namaste.
photo credit: PilgrimageGal