Day 76: I have been looking at the computer for about an hour trying to figure out how not to write this. I could not come up with a viable excuse and I want to honestly journal this journey.
The question becomes do I convince myself that I am content with something, do I visualize what content in a situation would mean for me and then work at shaping that into a reality, or do I just fold? And into this mixture of questions I must add the additional ingredients of my own belief system: everything is a choice (I don’t get to blame/credit someone else) and the idea that somewhere, somehow I chose to live this particular life.
Yesterday I chose to address some feelings I had about things going on with my son. He reminds me of the pines and cedars that grow in Colorado on the face of granite slopes. No protection from wind and weather, not a water source in sight–growing out of stone in its own fashion. I have chosen to be his safe place–the person to whom he can express his issues without rejection. Have you ever seen that old footage of a nuclear explosion at a distance and then the people, homes and lives are leveled by the invisible shock wave that follows? It’s like that. I’d like to say that I can just deal with it some aging incarnation of Wonder Woman. And I do when it’s grenade-sized. But other times I am reminded that I have PTSD. (Did I mention that? Yep, I do.) And when the shock waves hit my surface of contentment and hard-won layers of peace and inner quiet, it feels like they melting and I am left with a puddle of self to rebuild.
And that brings me to the end of this day that I spent wrapped in mental band aids having cheese corn for both lunch and dinner. I visualized this phase of life and of parenting much differently. Does the perfect parent make sure they are there indefinitely? Does it make me the worst parent ever and most selfish person to want to choose my own health and calm and structure ahead of another’s? I don’t know.