last night i was on my weekly skype call with my therapist.
yes, i said therapist.
yes, i said weekly.
yes, i said over skype. i'm in africa, she's in the US, we make it work- so that i can work. so i can learn to show up well for myself, and hopefully for my family, and the rest of the people who come in my life. God is here with me all the time, and she is with me for an hour a week.
last night i was lying down in the bed on skype because i'm recovering from a horrific bout of amoebic dysentery. good times. especially good times when you are single parenting- when you're outnumbered 1 to 4 - and as i must always mention, one of them is zoe (which really makes me outnumbered 1- 6, she counts as 2, believe me). i had successfully gotten everyone to bed, or close enough, but i hadn't locked the door. 5 minutes into the session, in walks zoe with an american girl doll, wanting me to help add a watch to the dolls outfit, and struggling to understand why i couldn't and wouldn't stop whatever i'm doing to assist. i calmly shuffled her out and promised to help in the morning (which i'm now realizing i still haven't done- 4:30 pm).
when i returned to the computer, my therapist said that my interaction with zoe sounded calmer than the week before - when zoe had again barged in but that time with a more "urgent" need. and because she's a therapist she wondered if that was a reflection of my overall state of well being, being more well. and i said yes- in someways- because in some ways it's true, but that really zoe can unravel a very well being (if that being is me). she just can. or i can just let her.
and with that, i cried, probably because i was exhausted and felt alone, and had been to the bathroom 18 times in 12 hours, and because with zoe, it's. so. hard. and it has been for years. and it will be for years.
and then i said some of those things that sit at the bottom of your heart that you don't usually let have a voice. things that were all about me. about the unfairness of it. about the exhaustion and the constancy. about how she keeps me from being the parent i want to be. about how because of her, i get frustrated and i yell, and i feel like i don't make home a safe place for her, or for the other kids. and that was the bottom line. i want my home to feel safe- and my home is really me and mike- so i want to be safe.
God has kind of been putting this on my heart. He's been asking me to reflect on this. to consider parenting with that as my goal- being their safe.
safe
: not able or likely to be hurt or harmed in any way : not in danger
: not able or likely to be lost, taken away, or given away
of course it's not zoe's job, to behave in a way that allows or helps me to be safe for her. it's the opposite! it's my work to see where she is, how she is, and get to a place myself, where i can help her feel safe, and that makes the others feel safe too. but it was important to say that deep in there, some part of me blames her for my inability to manage myself well. it was important because once you give those things a voice, you can look at them in the light, and you can see that a part of yourself is so scared. a part is scared and overwhelmed. a part is herself, young and in need of support and care and love. we must tend to ourselves to tend to others. we must love ourselves well to love others well. and the only way i've found to do this- to love and tend to myself- is to open up the closets and cabinets and other hiding spots inside of me- and say "all are welcome", "bring it". bring all the fears and the sadness and the unjust things, the silenced things, the previously un-welcomed things, the ugly things, bring them to the light. only when i am split open, vulnerable with myself and Jesus, only then can i really love me because it's all of me. all of me is allowed. all of me is showing up. and i'm not too much for Him.
when i'm sitting there, with all of myself and the everlasting arms are wrapped tightly around me, so none of me falls away, that is where i feel safe. and from that safe place- i can love my husband and i can love each of my kids, as they are, with all of me.
so that is where safe begins. safe begins with me. safe begins with me taking a moment to pause, to listen internally, to gather myself, to sit in the silent, calming presence of Love, in the Arms. from that place of safety, i can untangle from her. from there, i can learn to be her safe.
yes, i said therapist.
yes, i said weekly.
yes, i said over skype. i'm in africa, she's in the US, we make it work- so that i can work. so i can learn to show up well for myself, and hopefully for my family, and the rest of the people who come in my life. God is here with me all the time, and she is with me for an hour a week.
last night i was lying down in the bed on skype because i'm recovering from a horrific bout of amoebic dysentery. good times. especially good times when you are single parenting- when you're outnumbered 1 to 4 - and as i must always mention, one of them is zoe (which really makes me outnumbered 1- 6, she counts as 2, believe me). i had successfully gotten everyone to bed, or close enough, but i hadn't locked the door. 5 minutes into the session, in walks zoe with an american girl doll, wanting me to help add a watch to the dolls outfit, and struggling to understand why i couldn't and wouldn't stop whatever i'm doing to assist. i calmly shuffled her out and promised to help in the morning (which i'm now realizing i still haven't done- 4:30 pm).
when i returned to the computer, my therapist said that my interaction with zoe sounded calmer than the week before - when zoe had again barged in but that time with a more "urgent" need. and because she's a therapist she wondered if that was a reflection of my overall state of well being, being more well. and i said yes- in someways- because in some ways it's true, but that really zoe can unravel a very well being (if that being is me). she just can. or i can just let her.
and with that, i cried, probably because i was exhausted and felt alone, and had been to the bathroom 18 times in 12 hours, and because with zoe, it's. so. hard. and it has been for years. and it will be for years.
and then i said some of those things that sit at the bottom of your heart that you don't usually let have a voice. things that were all about me. about the unfairness of it. about the exhaustion and the constancy. about how she keeps me from being the parent i want to be. about how because of her, i get frustrated and i yell, and i feel like i don't make home a safe place for her, or for the other kids. and that was the bottom line. i want my home to feel safe- and my home is really me and mike- so i want to be safe.
God has kind of been putting this on my heart. He's been asking me to reflect on this. to consider parenting with that as my goal- being their safe.
safe
: not able or likely to be hurt or harmed in any way : not in danger
: not able or likely to be lost, taken away, or given away
: not involving or likely to involve danger, harm, or loss
because the world is full of hurt and harm and danger. it's full of getting lost and being taken, and being given away. it's full of loss. it just is. and it has been forever and it will be forever. i can't protect them from it and i wouldn't want to. because all that stuff makes us who we are on the inside, it shapes who we become. my job as their mom is to help them build the frame through which they will learn to look at those hurts and those lost seasons. to teach them that the frame we build, matters more than the harm that comes our way or that we walk into. because those dangers, those losses must go through our frame before they become part of who we are. and i want to help them become the best of who they are.
when i'm sitting there, with all of myself and the everlasting arms are wrapped tightly around me, so none of me falls away, that is where i feel safe. and from that safe place- i can love my husband and i can love each of my kids, as they are, with all of me.
so that is where safe begins. safe begins with me. safe begins with me taking a moment to pause, to listen internally, to gather myself, to sit in the silent, calming presence of Love, in the Arms. from that place of safety, i can untangle from her. from there, i can learn to be her safe.
