One morning, I woke up with the inspiration that I have given special meaning to events in my life that maybe don’t mean what I think they do.
No, that’s a lie. This inspiration came from Karen C.L. Anderson’s work. I guess this somehow proves the point. Everyday things happen. I ascribe meaning to these things that happen. Oddly enough, the meaning I ascribe to things often fit a narrative. If I choose to see things from a different light, I can shift the way I perceive myself and my life. I can begin to shift my narrative.
Now, I am not talking about selling myself horse shit in guise of fudge. I am talking about seeing the past from an adult’s perspective rather than that of a child’s. The pain, frustration and anger are still there and reasonable given the circumstances. However, there is a context that provides space for compassion and lightness that wasn’t there before.
It feels so soothing. Like peanut butter, I want to slather my new perspective all over my bitterness in hopes of creating something delicious. I can’t lie. I’ve found some yummy, but I’ve also come to see myself quite differently. I don’t feel like such a fuck up anymore. I just feel lost and forever in an odd space of transition. The messed up thing is, I can see where I lost myself too. It’s sad to see. But it also means that I can find myself again too 🙂
If anything, Motherhood gives you many opportunities to recreate and transform as your kids do. In fact, I feel like being a mother demands it in some ways. We’ll see what comes up next. Until next time…
Take precious care!