Today was so hard. There’s often so much going on in my head that I end up squashing it all down, compressing it into the tips of my toes and leaving it there. But maybe I should start sorting through it all? Unpacking my emotions is something new to me – who knows if it will even be worthwhile.
Anyway, today was difficult. I am currently a ball of self-loathing and regret.
For the first time, in my son’s (my beautiful, beautiful son’s) 17 months on this planet, I mumbled that I hated him. He was having a difficult day, like really difficult, and the three of us in my little family unit were really feeling down. My son doesn’t enjoy listening to me or his father, and I don’t know how to get him to start. So today, as he was fumbling around with the electrical sockets, and I was shrilly demanding him to stop before yanking him away by the arm, I mumbled “Sometimes I hate him.”
I didn’t even mean it. I didn’t realise I was saying it until it had already been said. And my stomach just hit the floor. I am big on positive language, I don’t like using what I call ‘angry language.’ This includes swearing, raised voices and yes, the word ‘hate’.
So now I feel like a hypocrite, because how dare I say that word to a tiny creature who is still so new to this earth? I don’t hate him. I love him, I am in love with him, he is from my womb and an extension of me and I love him, more than I will ever be able to describe.
What drove me to say it? I know we all have moments like that, even if some of us won’t (read: can’t) admit it. And that’s okay. But for me, I know I am at my best when I’m taking good care of myself, and I haven’t been lately.
I work as a writer, so by nature I am already overly-critical of myself. I strive for perfection, even though I pretend I don’t, and when I can’t get my tiny person to listen to my instructions I feel like a lesser being. Work pressures, family pressures and my own pressures add up to overwhelm me and it comes out in spiteful, vicious tongue-lashings and words that I’d never usually speak.
I’ve spent the last few years working hard to be conscious and present in all that I do. It’s been the only way I could overcome my past, past addictions, past behaviour, past mental illnesses. Becoming a mother is the one thing that tests my consciousness, well and truly. When I fail to be present, and I lash out with my words and my anger, I feel ashamed. I sit with that shame now, and I acknowledge it. It feels good to own up to my actions, even if I’m filled with regret about them.
And lo, I feel better about it all after having typed this. Guess there’s something to be said for talking about your feelings after all.
I hope you’re happy and full of light, my sisters. You are loved 🙂
Love, Bliss xx