Monthly Archives: January 2014

Sitting in the dark

Hey baby girl,

Right now I’m sitting on the floor keeping watch while the kids I nanny fall asleep and my heart aches for you. You see my love, they are only a couple of years older than you would be and sometimes it breaks my heart. Tonight, the wind is howling outside the windows and they are scared, and so here I sit in the almost dark, standing guard so they can fall asleep unafraid. And I wonder, would I have done the same for you?

I wonder if your hair would smell of strawberries and if you would tell me secrets in soft whispers as you are falling asleep. I wonder if you would still ask me to crawl into bed with you and hold you right when the monsters in your dreams feel too real. I wonder if we would have face pancakes for breakfast or if you would insist on using glitter on all your school projects.

Baby girl, while I miss you always, the ache of not having you here has hit me hard today. And normally I try to stand in the ache alone, but tonight? Tonight I’m going to so something different. Tonight I will ask some of my friends who know you (and who know my love for you) to stand in the ache with me. And maybe, just maybe, though the ache will still be there, it won’t feel so alone.

I love you forever and always,
Mommy

The one about the dark.

It’s dark right now.  An all encompassing and suffocating dark.  A dark that is filled with silence and fear and in that fear, I have been pushing everyone away.  I have been pushing away community.  I have been pushing away friends.  I have been pushing away writing and reading.  But most of all, I have been pushing away love.  And to be honest, I don’t know how to stop.  I am just starting to see that I am fighting against the good, but when another sleepless night comes along, it feels easier to revert back to my “I’m safer and better off alone” mentality.  And the energy and strength it takes to send a text asking for prayers (as my lips have forgotten how to pray anything other than “help”) causes me to need to crawl back into bed and sleep.

Sometimes, words aren’t enough to take away the fear and anxiety and the pain that the start of a new year can bring.  And when the word, “naked” chose me for the year, I didn’t expect it to hit so hard.  From learning to accept myself to being honest about what is going on in my life (even the messy and broken), naked feels like it is my undoing.  But I have to believe that while I feel as if I am falling apart right now, I have to believe that there is hope around the corner.  I have to believe that I am not alone in this.  I have to believe that words will find me again.  I have to believe that I won’t be able to push everyone away; that there will be a few that are willing to sit with me in the dark.  Until then, I will sit in the dark and cling to the gift of grace that I found last year as I wait for the light to come back.

Because I need to believe that it will come back.