Mama, Free Your Hands for What Matters

Eli&me2001

I’m not a mover and a shaker.  I start and stop.  Start and stop.  I think it’s time I just own up to that and accept it.  I want to think it is going to change.  Like life is just going to open up at some point and I will SHOW UP in all my glory.  And there it is – perfection – rearing it’s ugly head once again.  No.  THIS is me showing up.  And it is not perfect.  Not even close – and that is the beauty.  I continue to learn to take it easy on myself – to realize in all ways – that I AM ENOUGH.

When I am not moving and shaking on the page – or in my business – it is because I am showing up in my life.  It’s not that I don’t want to share – or encourage others with what is going on in my life.  Not. At. All.  In fact, those are the times I want to reach out with my words the most.  But, in my circumstance, there are others involved.  Others who want privacy.  Others who need room to breathe and NOT have me “blabbing.”  It’s important that I listen – especially when the “other” is one of my children.

“I believe in radical authenticity – speaking your truth – telling your story – and learning from the doing AND the telling.”

My dilemma.  This puts me in an odd position because, I believe in radical authenticity – speaking your truth – telling your story – and learning from the doing AND the telling.  I have felt shushed for quite awhile now.  Halted from talking about the very thing that is testing me and shaping me in ways I never imagined.  Halted from writing about something I know many in recovery share in.  I have been holding on for dear life.  Visual: Body wrapped around a pole –  holding tight to the rope the connects my teen and myself – like an umbilical cord he wants to cut himself – to be free of me – and then at times returning to me with the softness of a 3 year old.  Needing me.  He’s suffering.  Struggling.  This has been one of the hardest segments of my life – if not THE hardest, and that is saying A LOT.

“And then I flash back to the grip I had on booze, drugs, cigarettes, unhealthy relationships. perfectionism – and all of a sudden I feel healthier than ever in my gripping and hair tearing…  This is what I am here to do.”

I will hold on.  Like a dog with a bone.  Hold on with one hand – while ripping my hair out with the other.  I don’t think my grip has ever been tighter.  And then I flash back to the grip I had on booze, drugs, cigarettes, unhealthy relationships. perfectionism – and all of a sudden I feel healthier than ever in my gripping and hair tearing…  This is what I am here to do.  This is what my hands are now free for.

What I am here to do.  Loosen the grip on the shit doesn’t matter and cling to the beauty and love that does.

Carry on, Mama.

Love.  Learn.  Recover.

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