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Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Good Bones

Let’s chat for a sec.

In the past 48 hours I’ve had several women in my world ping me and say that I’m killing it at the mother thing, as evidenced by my facebook posts.

But I need to come clean.

I think I have most of you fooled.
And I probably have my kids fooled.
And maybe I have myself fooled most days.

Because I’m not really sure I’m really “killing it” as much as it might look like. To be honest, most of the time I am not sure what I am doing at all. I’m just trying to hold on to the thing that makes the most sense to me right now--and that is my kids.

In the wake of Trevor’s death, my transition to being a widowed, single, working mother, and all of the adult anxieties that come with that, I am exhausted and lonely and sad still a lot of the time right now. My soul aches. I worry and worry and worry. I snap. I sleep too little or too much. I cry. I still try to see a lot of beauty and hope and possibility in the world, but right now my rose-colored glasses are often tinted as equally with despair and stress and fear.

I am so keenly aware of the deep holes that losing Trevor has opened up in my soul. And I don’t think they will always be there in the same way and intensity that they are now--but as hopeful as I feel some moments, there are moments that I feel equally as hopeless. As strong as I sometimes seem, there are just as many moments where I am deeply, deeply afraid of what comes next in my life, in my kids' lives.

And one of my fears is letting this sort of complex orientation to life that I have currently leak out onto my children. And the thing that makes me feel most alive and whole and sane is to try and make them happy, to sell them on the idea that even though bad, painful things happen we can be happy.

Because I do believe that sentiment logically, even if a lot of the time right now I question its reality within my mind’s innermost sanctums--and sometimes even out loud to my most trusted confidants.

Am I "killing it" at being a good mom right now?

I’m not sure--and sometimes the suggestion that I am almost makes me a little uncomfortable, makes me feel sort of like a fraud because being a good mom or looking like a good mom on social media is so far removed from my motivation that it is hard to explain. But this poem comes the closest....

I’m not really trying to be a good mom as much as I am trying to sell my kids this world, this life experience.  

I’m trying to give them a better frame of reference than I sometimes have after burying a man I deeply love--because even when you are acutely aware of the conservative estimate that this world and many of the things that happen to us while we are here is fifty percent terrible you keep it from your children. You show them the good bones of a place or a world or a life. You try to convince them, and maybe even yourself, that you CAN make this place beautiful.


scott McRobie said...
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