in pursuit of wild things

We eased back into school after my mother’s visit last week. The emotional impact of her visits are not quite as emotionally explosive as they used to be since the kids are getting older. Instead of acting out they are asking questions…sometimes I’d rather deal with toddler behavioral issues than insightful questions from my crew. Sparkles and my mother really butt heads on this visit and I am proud that my little girl stood her ground on her beliefs. Sparkles has always adored her grandmother and fought hard for attention from her…only receiving harsh words and judgment for all her adoration.  Sparkles didn’t take it this time and gave as good as she got! I am so tremendously proud of my little girl. I wish I had some of my daughter’s strength. In the moment that I see my mother I become in my soul the unwanted child I always felt to be growing up. I am a fourty-two year old woman but am instantly reduced to feelings of hopeless abandonment at the very thought of seeing her. The terrible dark feelings and knowledge of being unwanted that I keep deeply buried most of the time come to the surface. Bleeding, unhealed wounds that I cannot ignore but must endure until she leaves plague me. I hate her visits…I hate the weak child I become when she is near. I want to cry and scream at her…make her see the wounds her callousness burned in me.

I remain silent and broken…and I hate my brokenness…I hate the silence between us. I realize during this visit that I cannot ever really talk to her and my soul is enveloped by solitary sorrow…a ripped and defeated kind of sorrow that is tired of giving and forgiving. I prayed and begged my Father God to take my life before my children ever felt so much pain because of me. I don’t care what mistakes I make in life so long as my children know that I love them dearly and they know they are wanted and adored by their mother.

I am emotionally exhausted to the depths of my very soul…an exhaustion that I know only God can redeem and heal. I haven’t asked God to heal these wounds in such a long time…I just bury them and live with the feelings when I have to. I quit praying for healing a long time ago. I truly envy friends who love their extended families. I honestly cannot comprehend my own husband’s love for his mother. I do not understand his love for his siblings and I have accepted that I never will understand…I find that realization so comforting and I cannot honestly give you a reason why.

I’ve had a tough week. Most people I saw this week didn’t even notice…except my kids. Oldest noticed. He asked really hard questions this week. He was trying to understand me…his broken mother. He isn’t a hugger or a touchy-feeling person…but he was for me this week. He saw that I needed grace and understanding…and gave it unconditionally. God has given me such beautiful children and I am overwhelmed…I am unaccustomed to feeling loved by others. I expect indifference and am skilled at invisibility. Now that my children are getting older I am learning to accept…being loved. I guess I never expected to be loved by my kids. I know that sounds absurd to normal people…really I get it. Maybe, in my heart of hearts, I’ll always feel like an abused and unwanted child…helpless to rid myself of this black hole within my soul. And that’s okay…because my children will never feel that way. I’ve given them unconditional love since the moment I realized they existed…and now…they are starting to return my love…unconditionally. Thankfully, being loved unconditionally for them is normal…I’m learning to accept.

My mother left on Saturday…the kids did not cry this time when she left. Sparkles always cried before. Oldest didn’t even say goodbye to her. She favors him over the others and it makes him

uncomfortable. He was so upset that she spent more on gifts for him than the others. Oldest is passionate about fairness. He believes that everyone should be treated fairly. He was disgusted by my mother’s preference for him over his siblings. He is my firstborn son and in my mother’s eyes the firstborn son is the only child that matters. Oldest is uncomfortable with that distinguishment. He was so upset that Littlest received a gift from her of little monetary value that he insisted on using his own allowance to make up for the slight. So after she left Oldest and I popped onto Amazon and I let him order a gift for his littlest brother. I am so proud of his unselfishness.  Oldest didn’t have to do that…Littlest didn’t even notice the insult. But his oldest brother did…and filled the gap. My heart breaks…I am so proud and humbled.

I’ve been easy on the kids this week…maybe too easy. After five days with my mother they deserve an easy week. We didn’t take a break from school because we love time in the school room together. But I didn’t insist on good penmanship this week or perfect history narrations. We cried together over The Trail of Tears for the Cherokee and the betrayal of King Arthur. We said goodbye to friends moving to another state far away. I am angry because I know this lady would have been my best friend if she did not have to move away…

My flow is a tad bit depressing this week…I know. It is just where I am at the moment. Next week will be better…God’s grace and my husband’s love are always present to see me through.

Linking up with: Weird Unsocialized Homeschoolers

not the smallest library