Awhile back I was invited to participate in Mother Talk’s Blog Book Tour. Out of the titles I was given to choose from, one really stood out. I replied that I was interested, and a few days later I received this book in the mail: Healthy Mother, Healthy Child by Elizabeth Irvine. The author is a mother, nurse, and yoga instructor, and she uses her experience in these areas to explain her philosophies on healthy spiritual and physical living. I knew this book was going to be useful to me when I saw the front cover. Under the title is the phrase “Creating balance in everyday life.” And boy, do I need me some balance right now.

A quick update on my personal life: Ammon has moved out and filed for divorce again. We are getting ready to put the house up for sale so that I can move with the girls into something more manageable and affordable before Kindergarten starts in the fall. My emotions are in tatters, my shoulders are so scrunched up with stress and tension that I barely have a neck anymore, and my mental health seems to be teetering somewhere between barely hanging on and certifiably insane. Good lord, do I need balance.

The book is broken into four parts, but it was the first section on the body that really spoke to me. In this section she talks about the need to tune into your body’s intuitive healing processes through yoga, breathing techniques, and good nutrition. Since I’ve never tried yoga before, and I quite frankly suck at taking care of my physical self, I was a bit worried at first that I wouldn’t be able to connect with much of what she had to say, but she explained it all is such a simple and gentle way that within the first few pages I was down on the floor attempting my first Cobra Pose. What I appreciated the most about this book was that Elizabeth didn’t stop at teaching you how to try her ideas on your own- she takes it a step further, and guides you through the process of sharing it with your children.

The past few weeks have honestly been hell. Not just for me, for the girls too. Little Zibbit has been clingy and upset, and Babs is on high alert and tuned into the distressed emotional state of our family like only a five year old can be. This period of our lives is going to be so incredibly difficult for us all, and it’s going to take everything I’ve got in order to keep these frightening transitions from becoming traumatic. As a mother, I can only take my daughters so far along the path of physical and spiritual wellness. I can give them healthy food, a safe home, and a stable emotional environment, but deep down the way they weave these experiences into the tapestry of their lives is up to them alone. The best gift I can give them is the confidence that they can do what it takes to take care of their bodies and their spirits, because they are strong. I love the idea of sharing something as simple as yoga with them, breathing with them, showing them how to relax and center themselves. As much as I would like to, I can’t reach inside their bodies and stitch up the broken hearts this divorce will create. But I can give them the tools and skills they need to heal themselves, to grow and learn from the pain and hold onto that fiery strength that they were born with. This divorce is not going to break us. I’m going to make sure of that.

I’m trying to stay away from the soul-sucking negative thoughts today. Here’s a list of some things I like about myself:

I finally like my hair
I’m a good mother
I’m smart
I’m very understanding
I’m gentle and patient
I love my tattoo
I’m capable
I like my freckles
I’m sensitive and caring

Now tell me a quality you like about yourself.

Anne Lamott says, “Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: You don’t give up.”

I’m not giving up. I’m showing up for my life every day, and I swear I am really truly trying to do the right thing. I am waiting. I’m watching. I’m working. But the dawn is slow in coming. I’m tired of being so confused about my life. I’m tired of hurting people that I love. It’s so hard to see how things are going to be ok. If my marriage ends, how can I be ok? How can I be a single mother? How can I make new friends to replace the ones who have taken off after being hurt by me? How can I ever ask someone to be in my life, to be a part of this mess, when it seems so inevitable that knowing me in any way will eventually end up causing them pain?

I’m so lonely, so starved for connection that I had to sit on my hands at a meeting last week in order to keep myself from reaching out to the woman sitting in front of me and touching her curls.

I have to stay strong during the day in order to be there for the girls. I’m their mother first and foremost, no matter what else is going on in my life. So I suck it up. I play with them, I snuggle with them, I read to them and sing them songs. But when they go to bed I crumble under the weight of all this pain. And sitting here in the dark right now all hope seems lost forever, no matter what the great and glorious Annie Lamott has to say about it.

It’s hard to be so lost. But I’m not giving up. I’ll show up tomorrow, like I do every day, and walk through this crap one step at a time. There’s nothing else I can do.