Blindly Pushing.

I have been stumbling through hundreds of words for the past two months, unable to come up with anything sincere. The grief that I was feeling was so heavy that I could not make space for a rational understanding of what was transpiring for me emotionally. There are some people who are able to compartmentalize their feelings, go on and smile as if they rolled out of bed and donned beauty, happiness and success... I envy them. I get so engulfed in my anxiety that the panic overtakes my breathing. It is the thief of my appetite and it suffocates the sounds in my hysterical crying. I unraveled so many balls of hurt and anger that rooted themselves in my stomach as ulcers. Pain makes a home in our bodies in ways that we don‘t even know. Maybe I can gain some weight now?...

But being human in my rawest form is quite a unique experience. I was built with the capacity to engage with this multifaceted spectrum of emotions that, as an adult, I can’t say with confidence that I fully comprehend. It is awe-inspiring to go through these fluctuating patterns of happiness and hurt. There’s just that small glimmer of hope that nudges the human spirit to keep blindly pushing.

One day I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that at 26 years old, I’ve already been divorced, have two children from two different men and am currently unwed but getting a house with baby daddy #2, and then all of a sudden I am wallowing in these “failures” of mine. But I keep blindly pushing. I have a wonderful partner who I know loves me, but amalgamating two human beings under the pressure of baggage, bills and two children is extremely challenging. Meshing 24 years of completely different opinions, outlooks and experiences is a task that has surpassed my abilities, even at my best. He is relaxed and patient and I am energetic and forward thinking - being on the same page is mostly impossible. But I keep blindly pushing. Being responsible for two boys’ health, hygiene and happiness is also quite burdensome. Sometimes I feel like I do it all wrong. I try to equip them to combat unkindness with ingenuity and brilliance, but sometimes I see how they’ve endured such a beating by my disappointments and rejections that I never intended to make them feel. I still hurt them even when I try really hard not to. They still crumble under my maternal wings and I feel so incapable and broken. But I keep blindly pushing.

Life is so, so hard - too often and just too much. But there are still moments of love that are so intense and infectious, you can’t be the same after experiencing them. There are those magical times where we look back on our trials and have a moment of silence for the justice we feel for things working out the way they did. And then there are just those simple moments of laughter, community and feeling the warmth of the human touch that keep us weathering the storm - whether we’re at the point of drowning, we’re on a yacht, or we just downgraded back to a canoe with no paddles.