But I passed the test. You came to me in your darkest moment, and although it broke my heart into a million pieces I did what I have never done with you before. I said "No". I did not allow you to pull me into your madness one last time. I am terrified of what will happen to you without your lifeline-me-but I am feeling lighter, more free, and more full of potential than I have in years.
I know I'm not really alone. There are many who care and will help if I ask. But, truly, in the daily chores and activities, it will just be me. I don't have a day a week to expect a break. I will do it on my own. I'm OK with that. I'd rather be on my own than drowning in the chaos that constantly surrounds you. I have every reason to make this work and an untapped potential of strength to do it with.
I have only to take one look into the face of my baby-who is no longer a baby-to find all the reason I need for moving on. I see a light at the end of the tunnel I've been crawling through. It is getting brighter every day I move further away from you. Soon, I will be back in the daylight, my little guy by my side, and, hopefully, you can find your own way through your own dark tunnel. I pray you do, but I am finally alone and not responsible for giving you my hand.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Riding on the Waves
It shouldn't feel like a betrayal. Moving on has been my goal all along, but the actual act of recognizing that our future is so terribly different than it was supposed to be and moving forward on my own is difficult. I'm excited for this new chapter, and it looks promising, but I still mourn for what we had decided to build together.
Someday someone else will fill your shoes. Someday, you won't be the first person I think of when I have thoughts to share. Someday you won't be the last thing I think about at night while I'm trying to sleep. What if that someday is closer than I thought? What if that someday is now? How do you live life without your best friend beside you? This last link is all that held me to you, and as I prepare to sever it, I feel that same sadness and brokenness that almost crushed me in the beginning. Its weight is not as heavy, and it will not drown me as it did before, but I feel the water lapping around my calves. I feel the undertow gently pulling, and I slowly back out of the tide. I will leave you there to swim on your own. I can't swim beside you any more to give you the strength to keep swimming. It's time now to swim alone and fight off the sharks as they come for me. One of the sharks may even be a dolphin in disguise, but it's time for me to find out.
I'll miss you. I'll always love you. Goodbye.
Someday someone else will fill your shoes. Someday, you won't be the first person I think of when I have thoughts to share. Someday you won't be the last thing I think about at night while I'm trying to sleep. What if that someday is closer than I thought? What if that someday is now? How do you live life without your best friend beside you? This last link is all that held me to you, and as I prepare to sever it, I feel that same sadness and brokenness that almost crushed me in the beginning. Its weight is not as heavy, and it will not drown me as it did before, but I feel the water lapping around my calves. I feel the undertow gently pulling, and I slowly back out of the tide. I will leave you there to swim on your own. I can't swim beside you any more to give you the strength to keep swimming. It's time now to swim alone and fight off the sharks as they come for me. One of the sharks may even be a dolphin in disguise, but it's time for me to find out.
I'll miss you. I'll always love you. Goodbye.
Monday, May 4, 2015
Perfection
My son fell asleep on my lap tonight. He was curled up, head against my chest with his long, skinny legs hanging over the side of the recliner. He's six now, and usually too "cool" to sit on my lap for more than a minute unless he wants something. It's been years since I've held his sleepy body on my lap and was able to drink in his perfection.
I kissed him on the tip of his nose. I looked at his sweet face-the same face I've looked at every day for six years. It hasn't changed a bit. He looks so different. He's not my baby any more, but I know that no matter what, he will always be my baby boy. He sighed and snuggled into me some more. I know he feels safe and the thunderstorm raging outside is far from his mind now. But I can't let him go just yet. He has school in the morning, but I need him on my lap for a few more minutes. I need to remember. I need one last snuggle.
As I hold him close to me and brush his hair back from his sweaty face, I know that these moments are soon going to be gone. He won't want me to kiss him on the nose and brush his hair out of his eyes. It's not far off now when telling me where he's going and who he'll be with will be too much effort. He's not going to come to me when he's hurt to put a band-aid on his cut. I pray he'll come to me when he's scared and confused and life doesn't make any sense.
As the years go by, he will become independent. He will need me less and the time I don't have now will stretch before me. He will have friends and relationships and I won't be there to hold his hand. He will forge a path in this wide world and he will have adventures that neither of us can dream of today. He will fall, and he will get up and continue. I will be watching, but I will not always be able to give him my hand. He will always have my heart.
My son fell asleep on my lap tonight. And I held him there for just a few extra minutes.
I kissed him on the tip of his nose. I looked at his sweet face-the same face I've looked at every day for six years. It hasn't changed a bit. He looks so different. He's not my baby any more, but I know that no matter what, he will always be my baby boy. He sighed and snuggled into me some more. I know he feels safe and the thunderstorm raging outside is far from his mind now. But I can't let him go just yet. He has school in the morning, but I need him on my lap for a few more minutes. I need to remember. I need one last snuggle.
As I hold him close to me and brush his hair back from his sweaty face, I know that these moments are soon going to be gone. He won't want me to kiss him on the nose and brush his hair out of his eyes. It's not far off now when telling me where he's going and who he'll be with will be too much effort. He's not going to come to me when he's hurt to put a band-aid on his cut. I pray he'll come to me when he's scared and confused and life doesn't make any sense.
As the years go by, he will become independent. He will need me less and the time I don't have now will stretch before me. He will have friends and relationships and I won't be there to hold his hand. He will forge a path in this wide world and he will have adventures that neither of us can dream of today. He will fall, and he will get up and continue. I will be watching, but I will not always be able to give him my hand. He will always have my heart.
My son fell asleep on my lap tonight. And I held him there for just a few extra minutes.
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