The past year has been difficult, to say the least. Logistically, just surviving has been a challenge. I’ve never lived on my own before, so it has been a struggle to be the sole bill-payer, house cleaner, and general keeper-upper-with-things. Add to that the whole single-parent issue, and I can say with certainty that it has all pretty much sucked. But I’m doing it. I’m paying all my bills, keeping up with most things, and the kids have stayed generally clean and well-fed. I had a hard time remembering to keep their teeth brushed for while, but we’ve overcome that minor hurdle. I’m doing it, but it’s been really really hard. It’s been all about survival this last year, physically as well as emotionally. And because of that I haven’t been the kind of mommy that I once was.

Don’t get me wrong. I am cutting myself some serious slack in this department because, honestly, things are going very well and that in itself is a testament to what a good mom I am. But lately I’ve hit kind of a wall of grief over it. Everything now is rush rush rush, get to school, get to bed, get to daddy’s house. We’re not at home that much, and when we are it doesn’t even feel like home, because we’ve just recently moved again. The girls are in a constant state of transition, and it’s been all I can do to just keep us moving through it all. This is all so different. I remember the days when all we did was paint. Or play with playdoh. Or walk to the park on a sunny afternoon. I had so much time to be a mom, and my entire existence was focused on them. I used to read parenting books and go to lectures, I was involved with Babs’ preschool and our church groups. Everything was centered around them, and it’s just not anymore.

I realize now, of course, that focusing my life solely on my children was part of the “problem”. I lost myself in trying to become a perfect mommy, and I never spent time thinking about who I was or what I wanted. The marriage suffered as well. Ammon and I were never alone together. We went away only once after the kids were born, and that was at the very end in a vain attempt to salvage our crumbling relationship. When we separated, I was forced to question for the first time who I really was. The labels “wife” and “stay-at-home mom” were suddenly stripped from me, and once they were gone I realized that it was those very labels I used to describe myself. I was so lost, and I grieved for the comfort of knowing where I stood in the world. And I have spent the last 9 months completely rebuilding the definition of my existence. I have been so absorbed by that, so deep in my head about it all, that it has been hard to be as present mentally as I would like to be for the kids. And that feels pretty shitty. Good lord, this has been the most frightening and tumultuous time in their lives, and I haven’t really been there with them. I haven’t talked with them like I used to, or just sat down and played. All I’ve been doing is walking behind them with my hands on their backs, pushing them forward into this new life. Let’s go c’mon we’re late we have to go go go go go. My poor babies.

I think this is all coming up because Babs’ birthday is right around the corner, and it’s time to start planning a birthday party. My concerns are so different this year than in years past. It’s no longer, how will we celebrate? or who should we invite? but what the hell can I handle without being completely overwhelmed? And that breaks my heart a little bit. I don’t want her birthday to be about me. It should be about her. She has been such a champ. Both of them have dealt amazingly well with the changes in their lives, and have come through it like the strong little troopers they are. But I’m wondering now if the reason they have been so strong is because they have had to be. Because I haven’t been able to be strong for them, and give them a safe place to be weak.

Hawaii was a very huge experience for me. It was there that I realized how truly capable and successful I am, completely on my own. I realized that I no longer have to rely on others for support or guidance, because I finally have my shit together enough to figure it out on my own. And the best part, the part that blew my mind, was realizing that I don’t want to rely on anyone anymore. I like making decisions and taking action on my own, because I trust myself to do the right thing, and I trust myself to do it well. I discovered that I like who I have become, and that for the first time in my life it feels really good to be me. It was so hard to come home, back to this stressful, crazy life, after having had such a peaceful experience there. But I’ve been trying to hold on to those feelings and weave them into my life here. I’ve been trying to let go of stress and guilt, and remember that I can do it, that I will do it, and that I will do it all well. I am constantly overwhelmed by this new life, but I have a new sense of calm that has come by just believing in myself for the first time ever. I hope that I can take this new strength and re-focus a bit on my daughters. It feels good to be a strong woman, but that strength means nothing unless I can use it to be a good mother. They need more of me, I know this. And I think that I am finally whole enough to give parts of myself away again. Life used to feel like I was holding water in my cupped hands, trying desperately to keep it from seeping out between my fingers. Holding on to that water was all I could think about. But I think it’s finally time to let go, to know that I am capable enough of finding water anywhere I go. I could trek across a desert if I needed to, and find the oasis on the other side.

My daughters have given me so much purpose, so much drive to become a better person for their sakes, and I think the time has come to show them how very thankful I am to have them in my life.

Zibbit, upon finding a sprouted potato on grandma’s picnic table:

“Look Mommy! The potato is about to hatch!”

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.

If only
I could hold my daughters
in the palms of my hands
both of them curled up
in a woven bed of soft grass and
strands of my hair
and I could keep them
forever

Children trying to kill me. They are winning. Can’t hold out much longer.