Feeling A little Guilty

I made Ely go to school this morning, even when she was feeling well.
No blood,
No broken bones,
No convulsions.
Off to school...

I always feel bad, though.
Don't know which is right.

Hope she makes it through the day...

Writing

Writing because I have to
Writing because I can
Writing because I want to
Writing because that is what I do.

So much to write about
I tell myself no one cares
I ask myself, why do people want to read your thoughts and feelings?
Is that really my voice? Do I really care?
Sometimes I care, others times I don't

So now is one of those don't care times
I want to write about being frustrated about not writing.
I want everyone to know that I have so many thoughts and feelings that I want them to know about. I need to write them out.
I want people to know they aren't alone in their thoughts and feelings.
That other people, like ME, feel the same way.

I feel sad some days, for no real reason.
I feel frustrated alot, for not getting my way or having to be flexible.
For not being understood or misunderstood.
I feel angry that I have to explain myself all the time.
I feel angry that other people are sad.

I feel love and appreciation for my children.
For my friends.
For a husband who I know loves me.
For my family. For my abilities.
I feel thankful that I can enjoy the sound of birds singing, or feel a cool breeze. A pretty flower, a nice smile. My wind chimes.
Somedays I have to force myself to see the good stuff. Hear the nice things, appreciate the positive.

But it doesn't come naturally. That makes me tired.

I'm tired of not being able to shut my brain down to sleep.
I'm tired of feeling like everything is my responsibility.
That I have to get everything right all the time.
Even though logically I know that's not true.

I want to allow someone to take care of me without feeling guilty about it. 
Allow them to see my vulnerabilities without having to show or prove that really, I'm ok.

I don't want to be ok sometmes. I want to be a mess. I don't want to hold it together all the time. I want to fall apart and not care that I can't pull myself back together.
I'm tired of having to hold it all together.

I want to mess up and have everyone be proud of me for it.

I want to feel comfortable in my body.
I want to care.

I keep remembering UYO and the angel walk, when I fell apart and people took care of me and didn't judge me for being weak or emotional. I was allowed. And still loved.

It's exhausting to hold it together all the time.
My clients have to see me holding it together.
My kids have to see me holding it together.
My husband needs me to hold it together.
My parents need me to hold it together.

I'd like to fall apart and stay there for a couple days, without worry or care about what they will think or feel.

But no.
I will hold it together.

Because that is what I do.
I can only write about wanting it.
Because that, too, is what I do.

Time and money

If only both were unlimited.
I'd take my vacation and my professional course.
Both of them.
And not care.
And enjoy them both.
And not feel guilty about either.
If only...

Just See ME

Just See Me

February 2011

The following fictitious letter is based on a collection of words, wishes and cries of many of my clients over the past 15 years. Their ages ranged from 4 - 16.


Dear Mommy and Abba,

My request to you is simple:
Please, just see me. See me for who I am. See me for who I want to be. See me for who I am trying to be.

I really want to make you happy and proud of me.
I don’t like it when you get mad at me; or when you yell, even if I know I did something I wasn’t supposed to do.

I don’t always want to be like you. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I get confused.

Sometimes I’m shy. And sometimes I don’t know what to say. Adults want me to talk all the time. They want me to be like them. But I’m not. I don't have so much to say all the time. And when I do – I’ll say it. Just give me the space to say it when I’m ready. I need space to speak when I want, not when you want me to.

In school I don’t always understand what the teacher is saying. I don’t always want to be the one to answer. And when I understand, the teacher doesn't let me make a mistake. She makes me feel bad when I make a mistake. You don’t always like it when I make mistakes, either. You make mistakes.

You get tired and grumpy sometimes. Sometimes you’re in a bad mood, too.
Why do I always have to be in a good mood, just because you want me to? I think it’s more like you NEED me to. You can’t handle it when I’m not in a good mood? Why do I always have to be smiling? Why do I always have to greet you with a smile when I come in the door? What if I had a hard day? Why can’t you just see that?

I need space to be in a bad mood. Give me the space, and I’ll snap out of it. And if I don’t, then I’ll need your help.

I’m different. I’m not like the other kids. I’m shorter or taller or slower or more emotional. I like different things, and I look different. So you can’t treat me like the other kids. I might need more of your patience, or more of your understanding. I might need you to be more creative with me.

I know I usually fight them, but I need rules. I need limits. And when I push them, hold on tight. Don’t give in to me so fast. I need you to say NO to me sometimes, even if I get angry at you. I need it. I might not like it, but I need it. And I need you to be consistent. I know it’s easier to give in sometimes. You’re tired. I wear you down. But it’s confusing when I don’t know what to expect. And then I know I can take advantage of you.

I need to make my own mistakes. You can’t protect me from all harm. I need you to teach me to use common sense. To think about choices and consequences. To think about what would happen if... And then, I need to face my own monsters. I know you want to protect me from them - from falling off my bike, or someone saying means things to me, or my seeing something scary or inappropriate. And I appreciate that. I know you love me. But how will I ever learn, if I don’t learn how to get from here to there by myself. Let me learn. Let me make my own mistakes. I need you to help me learn from my mistakes. Not blame me or say I told you so. Just be there when I make that mistake.

I know it’s hard to raise kids. But you know what? It’s hard to raise parents too!!

Love,
Me