The storms rolled in and out this week. And I'm not referring to our winter weather. My lovely and wise therapist reminds me constantly that this is part of the process of recovering from tragedy. The ups and downs remain a constant. I can intellectualize this, but my heart sinks so quickly when the balance is rocked. It drives me a bit crazy and always catches me off guard. I like feeling on top of my day and it's a clear reminder that no matter how strong I've grown, vulnerability is not far from the surface. The potential for capsizing is unlikely, but the thought still lurks in the shadows.
If I can recognize my specific triggers, maybe I'll be able to come up with strategies to not plummet so quickly or so far. In meditation, when my mind wanders, I identify the distraction, but don't get caught up in it. I just name it and let it go. Maybe that can work for the key struggles that still bog me down? I already feel like only the major ones remain. Those early pitfalls around abandonment- betrayal, loss of love and how could this have happened have truly lessened. That's a relief, right? What still plagues me is what hurts first and matters most, ultimately. Concern for my babies.
So, I'm naming it:
I hate feeling helpless when my children suffer. I'm frustrated when I can't prevent them from being hurt.
Oh yes, that's my tender spot... always has been and I imagine always will be. It's what turns me into both a ferocious mother bear or the walking wounded. Either way, I must learn to be resilient. To fight for what's right, but not be destroyed in the process. I guess I am still searching for my sea legs as the storms ebb and flow around me. But it's clear that this entire year, I never capsized... that I clung to the wheel and am finding my way home.
So I'll just keep naming it and letting go...
Hi Maya! I would agree that healing oneself feels possible during - and even empowering - after the pain of loss and betrayal of divorce. Yet watching our children get hurt by the other parent, who we once trusted, is extremely harrowing. As a mom, I would rather suffer ten-thousand times over, before either of my children get hurt. I imagine that will be true for all the days I am alive. The power of motherhood. It is something to be proud of!
ReplyDeleteYes, it is powerful love. There is nothing else that compares to how I adore and cherish my children. Thank you for sharing your experience of what it is to see the parent you once trusted to be someone that could be a source of pain for you children. It's a different kind of betrayal with an impact that has been far deeper than I could have ever imagined, had I not experienced it.
DeleteSeeing how my husband's decision to leave devastated my two girls (9 and 12), this is the fear that weighs most heavily on me, too.
ReplyDeleteAnd despite the fact that we're managing well in the aftermath--most days it would seem very well--everything I read makes it sound like they're going to be "damaged" no matter what I do...that it's just a question of how much. That hurts more than anything else. Because I know that all the hurt is still there, right below the surface. I'm just trying to mitigate the damage.
We don't have the strong and committed male presence in our lives that all the experts say is so important, nor do we have family here. We do have wonderful, caring and supportive friends, though, and they help lift us above the waves.
Still, as the only "broken" family in our circle, it's hard. We do a lot of talking through things, and we're very, very close, but that feeling of being powerless to protect them from such a huge hurt drags me under sometimes.
So I guess that I, too, am still trying to find my sea legs and help my daughters find theirs.
Oh Tracy! I'm glad you can visit us here. Being the only broken family in your circle can be isolating for all three of you. My children and I are not the only ones in our community... but close. I do believe caring and supportive friends can be enough. One "strong and committed" parent is far more important than anything else. I do believe this. I had my mom. I still do. She was enough and still is. Please take that in.
DeleteHi,
DeleteI've never commented here before and I'm not struggling with a devastating loss at the moment, but I wanted to add a different sort of insight. My mom left our family when I was three and then came back in the picture when I was seven (although she decided to live 2000 miles away from where the rest of our family was). Tracy, you mentioned that many sources say that your children will be "damaged" no matter what you do. Their father leaving will, of course, be a formative and lasting experience in their lives...I'm 27 and I still struggle at times with the relationship I have with my mother. I don't, however, think of myself as damaged. In many ways I feel that I am a much better person because of my difficult childhood experiences...stronger, wiser, and more compassionate. So, while the pain has been there and has been hard to bear at times, I know how much I have gained because of it. My daughter is now four and my experiences have definitely shaped the way that I mother. Also, I couldn't agree more with Maya that "one 'strong and committed' parent is far more important than anything else." Throughout my life my dad has been my rock and best friend. My respect and appreciation for him has deepened as I grew to understand all that he had to go through to keep our family together. All of this to say, your children will be okay and they will be forever grateful to you for providing them with constant love and support. Your daughters will be stronger women someday because of the time that they have spent trying to find their sea legs.
Thank you so much for sharing your insight and perspective as a child raised by her father... and now going on to parent her own children. I love hearing what gifts this experience gave you, rather than seeing it as damaging. Perfect inspiration for all struggling single parents, out there. Thank you, again.
DeleteI have to admit, I still haven't completely found a way to either stay on my feet, or let the waves wash over me. When I'm triggered "I" disappear, and my brain's survival strategy takes over. The things I try to do to keep even-keeled, so to speak, are taking care of what I can take care of, and avoiding the things I can't. Seeking help from others is a big help for me too, but sometimes, I am still completely overwhelmed.
ReplyDeleteI have a hunch, by how hard I seem to be fighting it, actually, that the thing that would help the most is to learn how to let the wave wash over me. But that would mean "surrender", and those of us with deeply ingrained survival strategies are still here because we didn't "surrender". How does one give into the pain and suffering that you've spent so long avoiding? We are, by nature, wired to avoid pain! I think your way of naming the pain and then letting go is a very good place to start. Thank you Maya.
And thank you for creating this space here. I know I'm coming at this from a slightly different angle, but your words help me. Hopefully mine will help others.
Survival and surrender... and how we are wired to avoid pain... Much to think about here, Cinnamon. I am always so grateful for you voice and thoughtful insights.
DeleteMaya, I could subscribe EVERY SINGLE WORD. Our stories are slightly different (no other woman in my case - maybe this made it all even more difficult to understand), but the concern for the kids, that are being hurt in such a mean and unexplicable way by the father they love and who loves/loved? them is truly hard to bear.
ReplyDeleteI know those waves of feelings all too well. They still sometimes wash over me many years after all the tragic events in my life. I feel my vulnerability fiercely at such times. Often, I just surrender to the feelings, knowing that tomorrow will be better and I will regain my strength and passion for life.
ReplyDeleteHOPE....is ...always...there.