My memory reaches far back into my childhood, and even back then, there's the tiniest whisper of guilt in some of my earliest memories. It walked with me to school, sharing my footsteps. It spooned with me in bed at night, stealing the covers and making me sweat.
When I felt jealousy towards my foster siblings? Guilt was right there, strangling.
When I felt overwhelmed and confused by my mother's strokes? Guilt held my hand.
Joy at my brother's 2 year old face lighting up when I came home from school? Guilt pinched the soft inside of my arm.
Rage towards my father for so many things? Guilt coursed through these veins.
Even in sleep, where unrealized desires and unspoken words prevail, guilt hung like a fog around my face.
Now:
Guilt for not being strong enough to give total forgiveness.
Guilt at not being able to force myself to learn to love-again- someone who broke me. Guilt at the rage I feel towards him for this.
Guilt for blaming him.
Guilt when I ease into bed next to my girl, watching her chest rise and fall, knowing I haven't done the best job.
Guilt that I'm breaking her, unwittingly, with my actions now.
Guilt when I hate life, even if for a few minutes.
Guilt at being frustrated with those that are trying to help.
Guilt when I find some joy in my days, selfish or not.
Guilt when I cry, when I ache, when I sleep in to avoid all of this.
Guilt when I wake up in the middle of the night, and for one split second, think I'm back in our first house, where things were fresh and frustrating but mixed with love and hope. Guilt that I can't bring that back, that I can't fix what I didn't break.
Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.
Learning to let go is hard. Learning to say goodbye to someone who has been gone from my life for awhile is painful. Moving on and finding happiness outside of the one person I thought I would be with until my dying day? Unbelievably rough.
And this guilt, this itchy wool coat a few sizes too small, makes it almost impossible to breathe another day.
9 comments:
Wow! If you change it from one child to two, you've told my story, too (except for the foster siblings thing and the mother's strokes).
Know that I am there for you, I love you for having the courage to tell your story. You have the courage to blog about it. You have the courage to put it out there for others to read and comment on. I would love to be able to talk to you about all of this. To commiserate, to share stories, to share tips and tricks that can help you get through those sleepless nights. DM me on twitter if you want to send me contact info. I really can help! You are loved (by more than just me) and we value you!
Your daughter will get through this like my girls are. Maybe I have not made all the right choices, but I've done what I've done for my kids. Everything I've been through, everything yet to come, I do it all for my kids. So they can be loved, and nurtured and try to grow up as 'normal' as possible. Crying as I type this because I know I have made some wrong choices which I thought were right at the time (and believe me some of them were REALLY BAD.) I know I'm rambling and I apologize for that. I just want you to know that I am here for you if you ever want to talk. You have my number. ((HUGS))
P
"And this guilt, this itchy wool coat a few sizes too small, makes it almost impossible to breathe another day."
Ugh.
I have worn this coat.
I have taken it out of the closet and caressed its itchy surfaces. Pulled it on and took a deep breath to make myself smaller. To allow the buttoning of those buttons. To wrap myself tightly.
In this too-small coat of ruination.
My heart aches for you and the place in which you find yourself at this moment.
Find hope in the word "almost."
You will breathe another day.
Because it is not impossible to do so.
Just so very very difficult.
Love to you.
Much love.
You are setting the example for your daughter in more ways than you know. You are showing her unconditional love. Strength. Beauty. Faith. And the idea that your worst day can't break you.
There is nothing worse for me than the feeling that I am letting my child down. That my life choices are screwing her up. I strangely find comfort in reading just how not alone I am in this oppressive guilt. Although it would be better if we could all just move past the feeling.
Let it go. Guilt only holds you in the place you don't want to be. It's suffocating and incidioius.
oh my fresh hell I love you and miss you! I love your writing oodles. You are so amazing, Lady. You turn my insides in a most uncomfortably fabulous way. The way you tackle those feelings in prose that most people work so hard to conceal...though I am sad that you are struggling, I thank you for that fresh breath, that fresh voice that only you provide.
i will be hanging around more often. hope you don't get sick of me.
@SouthernSis-Thank you.
@Kris-Yes. Oh yes. Still breathing. And slowly unbuttoning.
@JENNerilizations-Yes, I hope so, I really do.
@MissCharlie-Yes, it *is* comforting to know we aren't alone in this. I am glad, but yes, it would be so much better if we didn't have this shit in the first place.
@linlah-Suffocating. For sure. Trying so hard to unbutton and let go.
@Thank you. Thank you for your kind words. And no, please don't go anywhere. I am so glad to have you in my life.
There is happiness to be found in change...no matter how difficult the process, you will find your peace once you forgive yourself for not being what you think you should have been.
Life is too short to be spent on regrets...as long as you've done the best you could and loved where others have hated then you should do what makes you and those you love happy.
Take care pumpkin
Holly
XOXO
We do the best we can with what we have, we live the life we are face with every day the best way we know how, that is being the best parent we can be.
Allow yourself to breathe, allow yourself grow and move on, doing those things are gifts to her too.
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