in the moment

Just for the record, my marriage isn't in trouble.  Mark and I have always had communication issues, which you would figure after 12 years of living together, we'd finally figure out.  Not so much.  I know who he is and him me, but sometimes those issues that were cute little nothings in the beginning become so much more after the stress of mortgages, children, money and family problems come to pile on top of you while you lay there awake at night. 

When I am feeling tender and broken, I write about it.  Somehow writing about something takes away it's power to cut so deep.  I can look back and see that emotion and know that at that moment, I could feel each of those hurts like tiny shards of glass dug into my skin... much like how I imagine it feels when you lay a motorcycle down in gravel.  And then I can examine what's happening with my emotions at that very moment and realize that it's all survivable.  I can realize that it did not fracture my soul when he hurt my feelings, even if that's what it felt like in the moment.

On Monday, the girls and I were throwing imaginary pennies into the fountain at the market and Lily announced her wish, "I'm wishing for a mommy who is nice and has long, straight hair."  I felt my stomach drop out and the familiar emotion of being the last kid picked for dodge ball flooded over me, pushing me back to those days when my hair was short and frizzy and my knees always skinned.  I wanted to lash back at her and tell her I was wishing for a different kid, one who would like me, dammit.  Instead, I told her in a very quiet voice that she had hurt my feelings.  And then I took her hand and walked across the parking lot to the car, feeling the emptiness that comes with hurt.  Kids say what they feel in the moment, even if it's not always true or articulated to truly reflect what they mean.  For all I know, she didn't mean she wanted me to go away and was simply trying to add to the mommy count.  But this is where my emotions were still hovering when Mark and I had the stupid discussion that prompted my last post.  Couple that with the extended-family issues we've been dealing with and I feel like I'm walking around raw.  Open.  Shredded.

I want to be in the moment with everything that's happening right now.  I need to feel it all and write it out and then know I can get through it with my psyche intact.  I need to know that this too shall pass.  I need to shut up and listen and trust that it'll all work out as intended.  I need to remember that not every moment is fraught with emotion, even if right now, at this moment, I can't help but take it all into my tired little heart. 

In short, I need to stop trying to push the river.  No.  Instead, I think I'm going to just strip naked and jump in; hoping the rapids aren't too cold and won't leave me smashed against the rocks.  Because really, the ride? So freaking fun.  And I could use some reminding about that now and again.

Anyone want to jump in?  Swimsuits optional.