All too often, we focus on being strong, remaining stalwart. This unyielding shell may not reveal the pain inside, yet still it lingers. Give yourself permission to feel. Let the armor fall and allow the tears to fall with it. True strength comes when you embrace the pain prior to its release. Give yourself permission to cry when you need to and you’ll find that the smiles come much easier.
5 Benefits Of Bawling Your Eyes Out.
Three years ago next month, I lost my husband. Three years ago next month, I gained a father.
My parent’s divorce occurred when I was in elementary school. My dad then relocated across the country shortly after I turned 11. We did not see much of each other for the rest of my childhood or throughout my twenties. In fact, we didn’t really know each other.
Three years ago next month, I went to visit my dad for the first time in several years. I think we were both a little nervous, as were trying to learn the choreography of our adult relationship. I was with him when I received the text that ended my marriage. In that instant, I gained a father in the truest sense of the word.
With no hesitation, I became his little girl again. He moved into action immediately, doing what he could . He held my hand for the endless trip back to Atlanta, not even letting go when he drifted off to sleep on the plane. He made the phone calls I couldn’t and stayed in the house with the dogs when I wasn’t able. He cried with me and cursed with me. He hurt with me and he healed with me.
Three years ago next month, I gained a father. A guide. A cheerleader. A mentor. A friend.
Sometimes, it takes a loss to realize what you have. You win some when you lose some. Dad, I’m glad I won you:)
And Tiger’s looking forward to your visit too!
I met my dear friend and her three year old daughter at the Children’s Museum this morning. Her daughter, we’ll call her Kayla, is an absolute delight, even for those like me who are prone to hives when surrounded by too many of the younger set. She is in exactly the 50th percentile in height and weight, has the most adorable curly blond tendrils and little pink glasses that she is always pushing back up with a furrow to her brow. She has a stubborn streak born from her early months as a survivor after a premature delivery complicated with additional health issues. Like all three year olds, she like to state, “I am a big girl,” and ,”I can do it,” whenever someone steps in uninvited to render aide.
But this survivor has another side.
My friend and I were sitting on a nearby bench while Kayla played in and on a hybrid treehouse/ playground within the museum. Kayla scrambled halfway up a climbing net, looked back at her mom and said in a pitiful voice, “Help me, help me. I’m stuck.” Now, my friend, being an awesome mom, immediately read the situation and realized her child was fine. We stayed on the bench, watching, but not moving to offer assistance. Moments later, two other children approached her and helped her climb the rest of the way to the platform. She began to repeat a circular route: up the net, across the bridge, through the house, and down the stairs. Each time she arrived back at the net, she would look around to see if there was anyone, child or adult, that looked like they might lend a hand. If she spied a willing soul, she would ask for help in a soft voice. If no hands appeared particularly helpful, she would easily scamper up the net on her own, a satisfied grin wide on her face.
How many times do we do that in our own lives? You do not need to be three or even female to act like a damsel in distress, calling out for someone to rescue us when we are perfectly capable of helping ourselves? It is an easy trap to fall in to that is reinforced by other’s good intentions.
I saw a lot of myself in Kayla today. I am also a survivor with a strong stubborn streak. And apparently an inner three year old. I will bristle all too easily at unwanted advice, my inner child stomping and shouting, “I can do it.” While, at other times, I can act like a damsel in distress, helpless, so that I do not have take on the responsibility myself. Because Kayla’s mom does not reinforce her distressed damsel, Kayla will learn what she is capable of and will develop independence and confidence. Sometimes we all need that lesson.
As I have written before, there is no shame in asking for help, but there should be a timer set on assistance. Take that hand, but know when it is time to let go.
Do you turn your gaze when you receive a shot? Dream of a tropical island while you are on the dentist’s chair? Imagine walking on the beach while you are crushed into the seats in coach for a cross-country flight? Our minds are so good at these little disconnections, these travels away from the current discomfort. The problem is that, as with anything we repeatedly do, that mental disconnection can become a habit.
When I take an honest look back at my life, I can see that I have, at times, become too dependent upon my mind’s ability to wander. I had two years of teaching where I was completely miserable due to the circumstances at the school. In order to cope, I distracted myself as much as possible. I was not present in that classroom at all, although I still made connections with the kids and the test scores showed that they mastered the matieral. I knew that I was unhappy with work, but when I realized how dependent I had become on being disconnected, I knew that I had to make a change. A drastic one.
Mindfulness is a highlighter. Examine your own life. When do you tend to engage in mental escape? That is a clue that something about that environment, situation, or relationship may need to change because it is causing you pain. Or, perhaps, you need to be honest with yourself about the discomfort and change your approach to it. Regardless, mentally running away from any lasting situation will not be of benefit. Bring your focus to the present and connect with what is causing you discomfort. As with studying a textbook, the highlighted areas are the ones that need more attention.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 