Saturday, March 25, 2017

So Hard

Robbie is an angel.

He is seriously just about the easiest kid I could have been blessed with. He doesn't complain when we're cooped up indoors and I'm working on my computer for days on end, nor does he protest being carted all over the place or dropped off for babysitting quickly and randomly.

Being his mom has been easy.

Being a divorcing mom has been hard as hell. Gerund emphasized. As, it seems, it shall stretch on and on and on...

It pains me that I can't fix this problem. No, it more than pains me. It plagues me. It horrifies me. And whenever I think about the future, Robbie's future, knowing no matter which direction I go, he will suffer? I swell with such anxiety I can barely breathe.

And I keep it bottled inside, until my 50 minute therapy session once per week. Then, I let it out some more on the drive back to my parents' house, where I'm asked if I'm ok, if I've been crying. And I want to keep it from my mother, my pain. I don't want anyone to see it, especially her. She's a cancer survivor who just this month had major surgery again to repair a hernia from the first surgery. She doesn't need my suffering, she has her own. And when she tells me to imagine Robbie is in pain, that I would want to know as his mother... I answer back, "And so by telling you I've been crying, and I'm not ok - that will help me feel better, because now I've made YOU feel more pain and sorrow?"

So that's where I am. I am filled with such sorrow. Such deep, deep sorrow, that I just cannot fix things. And I never could.

As this all swells up and I sink into my own sorrow in the silence and loneliness of the only place I feel I can truly let it out, I'm reminded that I'm not alone - because I'm reminded what Feast it is:

This is probably my favorite painting of the Annunciation - because I love finding little hidden meanings in things that are already beautiful, and this painting has so many of them. Yes, my favorite is the tiny flying Holy Spirit, headed straight for Mary's womb from the window above, carrying a tiny cross and all. I mean, how all-at-once poignant, hysterical, and beautiful is that? :)

And just like that, I am calmed. Alright, after 20 minutes of sobbing texts with Sew. See, she's my tiny little Holy Spirit carrier.

When I think I have problems - today of all days - it helps to focus on what is truly important. And when Mary said the following words 2017 years ago, she wasn't just thinking of an "inconvenient pregnancy." She knew her yes was the first of many, she knew the cross of being the object of public scandal was only the beginning. She knew. And she hesitated not in accepting it all - accepting the entire future.

"May it be done to me according to your word."


Anonymous said...

Just remember that by allowing your mom to be part of your path, you are allowing her to serve you, to empathize with you, to feel part of you. It gives her a way to help when she's been on the receiving end for a while. It can be selfish, in a way, to tell her she can not help you, cannot walk along side you. After all, isn't that what Christianity is all about? Let her in, I say. Don't let your pride get in the way of letting your community help you. I'm 60 and very, very used to giving and not receiving. It took my daughter having cancer for me to understand how much it helped others to let them help me. Your mom is invaluable, let her in. Let her feel worthy. God has put her there for you. I mean to be encouraging, not critical.

Grace of Adoption said...

HWhat a beautiful response in the midst of your pain and suffering. God sees your yesses. Prayers prayers!!!!!

Catholic Mutt said...

Your mom already knows you're hurting. If you share it with her, even a little, she can be there for you in a small way, and guaranteed she prefers that. Praying of you!

Shannon said...

Praying for you! Have you heard of Neal Lozano's work and book, Unbound? I'm just starting the book and thinking it might be helpful to you.

Anonymous said...

Oh what a terrible Cross indeed. I am so sorry and will keep you in my prayers.