i'm uncovering all these old beliefs as i move around in my house... belief in the ethereal parts of myself, a wonder about how to bring them forth more, which of course, leads to songs of 'how do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?'... a belief in the animation of the inanimate, i have the feeling that my bathtub is deeply concerned for me. the washing of my sorrow there on my weekends is leaving her with my residue in more than one way.
i'm processing, and sometimes the rawness is on my skin, and sometimes it is down deeper. my kids are mirroring my process, one on the skin, one down deeper... they found out this weekend about the girlfriend, accidentally, and it is a doozy for me, and i can't spend any more time wishing it hadn't happened for them.
the transitions back into this home were rougher than normal, the elder fighting me, even trying physical challenge...(which resolved peacefully)... i wasn't able to 'parent' it all this time, and they all got to see me crying, and i wasn't crying because of the challenge, but for myself. ... and they knew. and part of me is weeping simply for the sadness that caused them. I just can't hold myself apart from my emotions with such a sweeping brush. it waxes and it wanes, and 98% of the time i am so solid for them... like i always have been.
but man, that 2% .
today i'm going to take another bath, maybe hit the grocery, and then lie back down and watch a lot of tv with the youngest. and then maybe another bath...
The Accomplice, by Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson
3 days ago
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