your momma’s so broke

dear cost of living,

i hate you.

sincerely, hh.

rx

1. hire a babysitter to play with eldest while youngest naps 2 x per wk. clean during this time.

2. hydrate (and drink lavender-mint tea in large quantities).

3. detox: eat more salad and less bread.

4. be in the sun as often as possible.

5. be present during play time (immerse, indulge, bring and receive joy and love exchanges).

6. nap in the afternoon whilst the dependents sleep / rest.

7. make dinner early, clean up early, have the dependents fed, bathed and in bed early.

8. yoga q 1 x per 24hr period and prn.

9. bed by 930 for book time.

10. lights out at 10.

“collect all parts of yourself”

as you know this momma’s been suffering a wee bit. nothin’ catastrophic but no one orders post-partum depression off the menu (and for good reason).

the awesome news is that my self prescribed treatment plan includes yoga immersion and yoga works. so, yay.

the double yay is that whilst recently getting my ass handed to me in power yoga class, the teacher also gave me a serious pep talk. well, not just to me… i promise i’m not gonna be all nutty and claim that she knew what i was looking for but, common now, obviously the universe heard my call for help:

“when you feel caged in, uncomfortable and on the edge, don’t do anything. be still, just be there in the discomfort, and make peace with what is. then, when you’re gathered, let the process find you” – jodie, yyoga, 07/03/2013.

i think it’s safe to say that no further explanation is required.

i don’t want to live that way

i was standing at the counter, washing dishes, when a song i loved came on. immediately the volume dial was spun; words, music, amplified.

my big boy, maturing and becoming himself faster then i am even aware of, i’m sure, was fast in the kitchen with me, defining the moment with his running commentary: “momma! you LOVE this song. this song makes you happy!”.

he was gone as fast as he came, his body writhing along, feeling the tunes, relieved, it seemed, that i was having a feel-good moment.

i kept at my chore, legs dancing, hands elbow deep in dishes that i had been too tired to deal with the night before. he was right, the song did make me happy and the louder, the better.

my gaze found forward, towards the window- the view expansive, bright; my chest constricted, heavy.

——

my son was sat in a bar- dark, musty, furnished with heavy wood- and was facing forward, watching the game. his shoulders were broad, muscular; his neck, craned forward over his beer. i was alarmed, he looked so much like my brother from the back- tall, strong, beautifully toned, stern faced. next to him was someone i didn’t know, someone he too was not overly familiar with, given the small talk, the getting to know you exchanges. perhaps a college acquaintance, or a teammate.

“so, your mom’s coming to visit, huh?” he said, inviting my son to engage. “what’s she like?”.

my son winced, right cheek to right eye, took a drink from his beer, and subtly shook his head- chin shifting minimally to the left. “my mom’s a bit much, ” he offered- no eye contact, no details.

“yah?”, probed his buddy, light hearted, busy in his body, looking for some energy out of my kid, now grown up.

“yah,” my son affirmed, tentatively. “she’s a weird one- you never know what mood she’ll be in”.

——

the song was over, my day dream over, radio ads now filling the space at a too loud volume. the noise hurt. i reached over the island to return the volume to an acceptable level, my shirt becoming damp from the counter’s edge, and saw my precious children. a big smile came back across my face.

“hey, mom!” my eldest greeted, poking his head up so he could see me from my reached over stance. he had a balloon in one hand and a mish-mash of play kitchen food in another. “it’s your birthday, mom! keep smiling! it’s chocolate, it’s your favorite”.

——

that’s when i knew: i hadn’t gotten out unscathed.

for me, last time, it was an anxiety, a worry, a rigidness, a panic. for me, last time, it was ruminative doubt, it was fixed ideas and plans, it was near obsessive. for me, last time, it was guilt, worst case scenario thinking, generalized sadness, pervasive stress and a creeping desperation to be free yet a paralyzing fear disallowing separation. for me, last time, i didn’t know what it was until it was gone. for me last time, it was my first time, and insight came too late.

for me, this time, it’s a pressure on my cheeks, a low grade head ache behind my eyes, an irritability that rests just below the surface, a short temperedness that ignites when itched. it’s a fatigue that’s increasing, despite sleep habits improving. it’s a uncharacteristic sourness, a powerful one, that tries to taint my rational appreciation and my authentic (deep down) happiness. it’s a threat to my genuine love and delight in my children, in my life.

for me, this time, it’s not compromised thought content, behaviour, or living style. it’s all affect. it’s a bluntedness, a flatness. it’s all heavy heart and effort, it’s all forced enjoyment. it’s all fighting against the beast version of the mom i could be, if i let my impulse win; my impulse that is not in line with who i truly am; normally am.

for me, this time, i know.

i know that now, after the regular hormone shock attacks have largely ceased, the typical jolts and bolts of post-partum change, that this is different, that this is more- a monster of it’s own.

for me, this time, long since i have successfully recovered and healed from a challenging pregnancy, labour and birth, long after i’ve adjusted to our family of four and care of two, months after mastering our daily life, that this discord is purely internal.

for me, this time, i can’t pretend that this is normal and i know that this is not healthy, both for me and for them.

for me, this time, i’m taking charge- for all of us, and our life. our full, complete, and love swollen life.

my son(s) will remember me and this time fondly. i will too.

——

my son was sat in a bar- dark, musty, furnished with heavy wood- and was facing forward, watching the game. his shoulders were broad, muscular; his neck, craned forward over his beer. i was alarmed, he looked so much like my brother from the back- tall, strong, beautifully toned, charismatic. next to him was someone i didn’t know, someone he too was not overly familiar with, given the small talk, the getting to know you exchanges. perhaps a college acquaintance, or a teammate.

“so, your mom’s coming to visit, huh?” he said, inviting my son to engage. “what’s she like?”.

my son looked down at his beer, smiled, and subtly shook his head- chin shifting minimally to the left. “my mom’s a bit much, ” he offered, chuckling.

“yah?”, probed his buddy, light hearted, busy in his body, looking for some more details out of my kid, now grown up.

“yah,” my son affirmed, jovially. “she’s a weird one- she’s full of crazy, but in a good way”, now laughing in full. “i can’t wait to see her”.

days gone by

my beautiful big boy,

i was reminded today, in yoga class of how i sang these words to you- for months as you transitioned to living a life outside (outside of me but in to our family).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OjAYkFpyqp8

i am amazed by you. you who is so deeply involved in the process of becoming versions of yourself that we have yet to meet.

while watching you, though i am so excited to meet the boy you will be, i can’t help but remember when you were small enough to fit in my neck, new enough to want to be held tight against my chest, and basic enough that you were easily soothed by the hum of my voice.

how fast it goes.