everything's an anchor


My kids just left this morning after spending their first week at "mom's house".  There is so much about the journey of divorce that feels completely surreal, like I'm watching a movie that's about my life, but doesn't really look or feel like my life at all. Even Luna still seems a bit bugged out.

Though I'm finding it amazing how resilient we are as humans, and how the brain constantly seeks comfort and wants to avoid pain. I've been trying to stay inside mindfulness, walking a very thin line of trying to allow time and space to feel my feelings and also give in to necessary swaths of time scrolling through Pinterest and playing Bejeweled. Checking in with my kids often has been essential, and both are moving through all the changes at their own pace and in their own way. My oldest fights the idea of change transition tooth and nail, but in the end moves through it with skill and relative ease. He's learned how to communicate his feelings and this is everything. The little guy had less tools in his toolbox and is more afraid of the overwhelming feelings, but he's learning that baths and soft things and talking and even crying, really help.

It's the tiny things that have been saving us. Uno games at night. Watching Pioneer Woman and planning things to cook together. Meals at the table. Getting notes and packages in the mail from dear ones. New furniture arriving, like this gorgeous chair I got as a birthday gift from my parents. Hanging things up and putting things away. Each load of laundry and dishes. Buying new measuring spoons and soup bowls. Every small move is an anchor dropping us into this life a little deeper and into more steadiness each day. 

Gravity is everything right now. Even writing this post to all of you, knowing you're somewhere out there with me is real comfort and ballast, keeping me from being washed away by the next wave of emotion.




4 comments:

  1. It is so hard to see our little ones leave... especially when they don't want to. When they beg you to please do something so that they can stay with you. When they fall asleep crying in your arms, and you into theirs. When they are not there, I find myself looking at everything as through their eyes - a new place to visit together. An activity to do together on Saturday. A movie to watch in bed with popcorn on Sunday. And then, they come back and everything makes sense again. Until they leave. And I ask myself: could I have done it differently?

    Could I have stand the abuse just a year or two longer, so that my youngest daughter would have more tools?

    I don't know. At the time, it truly felt like the only option. I was truly afraid for my life, and so were my daughters, who kept reflecting this back to me again and again. In the end, I left, not to save my life, but because I couldn't bear one minute longer having my daughters live in a state of constant fear.

    And yet... it does not make it easier. None of it does...

    Much love to you Mindy.

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    1. Isabelle, I am so in awe of your strength and your story. everything you share touches me deeply, and I can't imagine the complexity of the kind of transition you and your girls are moving through. I do know that you've done the right thing AND that it was probably one of the hardest things you have ever had to do in your whole life - those two things will always live side by side. I can feel the truth of that in my own way even though my circumstances were far from that dire. sending so much love and hugs and hope for all our futures <3

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  2. Your inner strength and love for yourself and your children shines through, Mindy. It is a journey. A challenging one that brings growth, but not without the feeling of being pulled and shaped into something new. You are surrounded by such a sweet love and hope you continue to feel it as you move through the newness of this journey you are on. xoxo

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