Editor’s note: It’s important to note here that compared with other families, especially those who have children that are chronically ill or fighting for their life, I have nothing to complain about…my heart goes out to them and their challenges.
Today, I tell myself it’s a good morning – the sun is shining, birds are singing, the air is warm and pleasant, the boys are getting along, I have a roof over my head, food to eat…right now, it’s not enough.
The weariness of everything got to me today. Yup, I woke up knowing that I have advocates and psychiatrists to call today, appointments to schedule, laundry, work, etc. And the heaviness of the journey got to me. I had a small breakdown…sad, crying. So tired…
Tired because I do this on my own. My ex-husband is minimally involved in the boys’ life. Does he pay his child-support on time? Pick them up every other weekend when he is supposed to and drop them off? Yes. But the buck stops there. It doesn’t matter that counselors and the Director of the Center for Children with Special Needs has told him he needs to be more involved in the therapeutic process. He’s balked at meeting with a couple of the TEAM members so he can learn to be on the same page as the rest of us – citing that work is more important. He nearly refused to split the cost, and is not happy or overly willing to do so, for services for Wesley.
It’s exhausting being the fulcrum from which Wes’ TEAM rotates. It’s exhausting cutting back on what little I have to cut back on to pay for additional services. Let’s face it. If I don’t do it, who will? Who knows Wes like I do? Who cares enough and can provide the same level of care as I do without charging an arm and a leg? Who else would be willing to work a variable schedule to be here with Wes and Sea, knowing that Mom’s presence makes a huge difference in the boys’ well-being and attitude?
And, although I’m grateful that my parents’ took us in when I separated/divorced, it’s time for us to move out, time for our own place.
We’ve been living with my parents for almost 6 years. Six years!
The close quarters, lack of space, and having to put myself back to maintain peace reached one of those hiccups today. I don’t ask for much. I really don’t. But, oh, to have our own place…sigh…
It’s the little things that add up over time. Struggling to find space in the fridge for fruits and veggies, or meals that I prepare for myself. Struggling to find space in the freezer for frozen berries or gluten-free bread. To have space to put our few possessions without feeling cramped. To walk in rooms and not hear the tell-tale “sigh.” To have room to practice yoga (the one thing I do for myself) and be able to reach my arms overhead all the way, to be able to bend over to the side without hitting my head on my bed or bookcase; to not have to wait for these few months of good weather so I can get outside if it’s not thundering or raining and practice in a spacious environment after I put the boys to bed. To be able to sit in the TV/family room with the boys and play games or read or watch a movie with them without having to feel guilty about taking up space and being there.
…so my parents’ don’t have to sacrifice anymore. So I don’t have to feel guilty about their sacrifice – these aren’t their kids. So I don’t have to sit by and see how our being here brings up opportunities for my parents’ own transformation that at times aren’t met with the desire to change, but to remain the same…
Sometimes I wonder, am I asking too much? Is a small house in decent condition with 3 bedrooms, a quiet space for me to practice yoga, lots of natural light, and a small yard in a decent neighborhood with good schools too much to ask? I don’t think it is. That’s when I dream, dream about being one of those contestants on Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.
And yet, part of me doesn’t know that the challenges I face would be worthy of such a lofty gift. Maybe that comes from the tantric part of myself. I don’t know. Because when I’m faced with these challenges and I wipe out, I get back up on the surfboard again and laugh, and actually thank the Universe for having taught me or shown me something that I hadn’t seen before or hadn’t seen from a certain perspective.
When I sit back and look at my situation (the play or dance, nay – pulsation – of prakasha/vimarsha) like someone looking at fish swimming in a tank, or at a tapestry, all I see is a beautiful display of lights and darks, of a lovely scene unfolding one step, one day at a time, of the dance of a woman’s courage, heart, beauty, and freedom expanding one golden thread at a time.
And, I smile – my heart becomes lighter and more easy. I know that the Universe wants to support me, wants me to be free and experience pure bliss…she does. In my meditation, I ask for the Universe’s support in manifesting, and I thank her for all that she has given me, for all that she has shown me.
Sometimes, I have to take a step back from the tapestry to see that and to remind myself that those qualities are already inherent within me. That by letting go and allowing, I have the ability to tap into the freedom already within my Self that I seek on this physical plane. I have the ability to see that these challenges, these daily struggles are but the colors and the depth that add to that tapestry, that they are the stuff from which the thread has become strong, beautiful, and is softening.