11/9/17
My love,
my beautiful and brave love,
I see you.
I see through the layers of all that wraps around you keeping you closed off
keeping you close
keeping you warm
keeping you cold
I see that this life isn't easy.
Easy isn't suppose to be what we get; the pain gives us purpose and power
Power to be brave
Power to fail
Power to
Ignite our fight
Power to cleanse the oh so black layers of the past that have caked on and broken off into a crumbled mess
In your tall stature of an almost and already woman
Your innocence screams out to me so often
And I hold you in hopes that you won't know what else is coming
Just wanting to protect you from all that tries to drag you down.
I know you're tired.
Exhausted
apathetic to some of the trauma only we can remember
or what you choose not to let in
I see your brain...
your beautiful and bright and beastly symphony of a muse;
it drives your dedication and aspiration for perfection and obsession
yet holds you back and pushes you down when you're already down.
I can't get to it to beat the shit out of it when it
decides to be the schoolyard bully that day
I so wish I could, sweetheart.
I see you.
I know you the way no one will ever be able to...
because I'm mom, sure.
but more so because I've studied and mastered the art of figuring out how to maneuver through the madness of the beast.
Your heart....your brilliant display of simple love
is more powerful than you know.
I pray you will know.
I pray a lot...
For your strength to never stop
for your pain to some day, break away like a window crashed into a million pieces
like stars that twinkle and serve as beacons for those desperate to wish,
I pray those pieces will to.
I pray love, for the beast to lose the battle and the calm to render you peace.
You are something to behold; my child, my happiness, my purpose and my blood.
You are here for this long haul of hopes and dreams that will rise and fall and show themselves like the dusk glory on an autumn evening. You will leave a fantastical mark and be the imprint on my life and the Universe will celebrate you richly
with sparkles and sprinkles and peppermint and bubbles.
I love you.
xo Mama
Saturday, November 11, 2017
Thursday, November 9, 2017
Rain rain go away...memories took my heart today....
There is something fascinating about grief. It comes in pouring over your soul at the most untimely and unexpected times and completely sucks the reverence and spirit out of you, yet it is a cleansing of our soul and spirit....God's way of allowing us to shed the pain and loss of what once was...to let in light where the darkness so very much took over, leaving you empty and contained in a place of sadness and agony.
You think you have experienced and closed the book on grief and have done "your time" with mourning what you lost, yet like some clairvoyant presence, grief has its own knowledge about what is to come and just how much time you still need to let go and become the self you were before you lost.
But are we ever that same self? Doesn't grief act as a thief taking a part of that self or does it transform it depending on how healthy we are in accepting it into our lives....I'm not sure.
What I am certain of is that today wasn't a day I expected to feel pain. I never anticipated when I awoke that the rain that sprinkled my gardens would also act as the cleansing blend of my sadness and God's hand soothing me and washing away my tears. I never welcomed the very thought that I was ever going to weep over something I had to say goodbye to 6 months ago. Grief is sneaky like that. Quiet, stealth-like and too powerful to avoid.
Today I remembered that yesterday is the 6 month anniversary of my daughter's diagnosis of RSD/CRPS. That exact recall moved me further backward to a week before that when we lost our beloved and most treasured family pet. His name was Indy. And I miss him. Today grief clearly reminded me of that and took me back to a time when I fervorantly felt the change in our path and the paradigm shift shook our core and took away so much.
The sky hadn't begun to pour, but my God, my heart did. And just like that, I was grieving. Instant madness shuffled through my morning and took me somewhere far far away and so deeply difficult to grasp and dig out of. That's the way grief binds you and holds you down until you just can't fight it; after resisting to exhaustion, you have to give up...let go...and let it consume you at its will.
It is unfathomable to take the broken pieces of the last 6 months and try to compose and construct what was, but we have them. Like a child who had so meticulously spent what felt like a lifetime putting them together to proudly share her masterpiece, crying out in I want
** Edit
11/9/17
There are none and then a zillion explanations as to why I haven't written on this blog in over three years. Life is too short to explain sometimes. I'll just say that I've returned today...after so long, to find this draft sitting in my account. I can't remember writing it or the place I was in when doing so, but it makes me both sad and joyful. Sad to read the pain I was feeling...that unsightly and terrifyingly lonely time for our family...joyful, because here we are, 4 years later, pain free, living our lives with joy and health. Looking in the mirror of our life, we don't see tragedy and heartache in our the reflection but the evolution of our selves...of our family...of our personal growth and healing.
And so in the month of CRPS awareness..."Nervember"..I leave you with a window into the soul of a mother's perspective of the aftermath of the disease.
God bless
You think you have experienced and closed the book on grief and have done "your time" with mourning what you lost, yet like some clairvoyant presence, grief has its own knowledge about what is to come and just how much time you still need to let go and become the self you were before you lost.
But are we ever that same self? Doesn't grief act as a thief taking a part of that self or does it transform it depending on how healthy we are in accepting it into our lives....I'm not sure.
What I am certain of is that today wasn't a day I expected to feel pain. I never anticipated when I awoke that the rain that sprinkled my gardens would also act as the cleansing blend of my sadness and God's hand soothing me and washing away my tears. I never welcomed the very thought that I was ever going to weep over something I had to say goodbye to 6 months ago. Grief is sneaky like that. Quiet, stealth-like and too powerful to avoid.
Today I remembered that yesterday is the 6 month anniversary of my daughter's diagnosis of RSD/CRPS. That exact recall moved me further backward to a week before that when we lost our beloved and most treasured family pet. His name was Indy. And I miss him. Today grief clearly reminded me of that and took me back to a time when I fervorantly felt the change in our path and the paradigm shift shook our core and took away so much.
The sky hadn't begun to pour, but my God, my heart did. And just like that, I was grieving. Instant madness shuffled through my morning and took me somewhere far far away and so deeply difficult to grasp and dig out of. That's the way grief binds you and holds you down until you just can't fight it; after resisting to exhaustion, you have to give up...let go...and let it consume you at its will.
It is unfathomable to take the broken pieces of the last 6 months and try to compose and construct what was, but we have them. Like a child who had so meticulously spent what felt like a lifetime putting them together to proudly share her masterpiece, crying out in I want
** Edit
11/9/17
There are none and then a zillion explanations as to why I haven't written on this blog in over three years. Life is too short to explain sometimes. I'll just say that I've returned today...after so long, to find this draft sitting in my account. I can't remember writing it or the place I was in when doing so, but it makes me both sad and joyful. Sad to read the pain I was feeling...that unsightly and terrifyingly lonely time for our family...joyful, because here we are, 4 years later, pain free, living our lives with joy and health. Looking in the mirror of our life, we don't see tragedy and heartache in our the reflection but the evolution of our selves...of our family...of our personal growth and healing.
And so in the month of CRPS awareness..."Nervember"..I leave you with a window into the soul of a mother's perspective of the aftermath of the disease.
God bless
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