Over the years I have collected many things that I thought would keep me safe, some tangible, some that are not. When I was a kid I kept a shoe box stashed in the back of my closet filled with things that 'meant' something to me, things that made me feel safe when I touched them or held them in my hands. When I was scared or upset I'd hide in my closet and take each treasure from the box and hold it close to my chest as if it's existence could transport me to another moment. God, when I think how simple it was to feel safe back then it makes me envious of children. As I grew older the things I collected to make me feel safe no longer fit inside a shoe box, most were still hidden but no longer could they be discovered by opening a closet door. You learn to bury your treasures much deeper beneath layers of brick and mortar so that they cannot be accidentally discovered which immediately nullifies their ability to keep you safe. And then one day something happens. You wake up and you feel that old familiar need to feel safe again so you reach down deep inside yourself and search for just the right tool to make it all better but as you roll it around in your hands and hold it to your chest you are not transported to another moment, and still you do not feel safe. You turn the light on to examine it more closely only to discover that your hands are empty. And now you are left to handle this alone. Sometimes being alone is the scariest thing in the world but sometimes, it's what saves you.
There have been moments lately that I have felt overwhelmed and that scares the hell out of me. I'm used to being in control and when I'm not, I pull out those 'tools' that make me feel safe enough until the moment passes. The old tools don't work any longer, either because I've changed or they never really existed. I didn't think I really had anything else to learn but apparently I was wrong. Right now in this moment I'm searching for something to make me feel safe again. Maybe I'm just not looking in the right closet.
It seems like forever since I posted but my time seems to be pretty well spoken for these days. I swear my days are spent with my breasts hanging out the majority of the time and the left over moments are used up with diaper changes. Don't get excited...the breasts hanging out are anything but sexy when you've turned into a milk factory. :-) I meant to post on New Years and then on my birthday which was January 2nd, but both days passed so quickly and I chose to use my very few spare moments catching a few Z's.
Anyway I'm here now right? So, another year has begun and I've managed to make it past another birthday. I remember when birthdays were exciting with parties and presents but as you get older birthdays become more about regrets of the things you have not accomplished than they do about a celebration. I've had so many birthdays where the list of regrets spanned too many pages to read. Birthdays where I drank myself into oblivion because oblivion seemed much more pleasant than reality. This time, this birthday was different because the regrets I carry were overshadowed by the accomplishments that lay beside me. I woke up on my birthday with a sweet little girl named Alice with her feet planted firmly against my back and a tiny boy named Patrick who sees me as a much better person than I actually am. My children are my accomplishments because both of them proved that I can be selfless and that in itself makes me feel like the luckiest woman alive.
So I'm old - er now and somewhat wiser thanks to the education my children have bestowed upon me. My new year although uneventful to some, has brought promise and hope into my life and every time I look into the soulful eyes of my sweet babies I'm reminded that a life without hope is not a life at all. I have a life...a very wonderful one.
May your new year be filled with hope, hope that lifts you up when you have fallen, hope that lightens the load you carry upon your shoulders, hope that lets you love your life.
I'll be back soon....I promise. :-)