I was quite inspired this morning. I woke after a better nights sleep I actually got 3 hours in a row at one point! Wohoo!
All day I’ve been mulling over a post about finding stillness in the every day. My opening line was to be a quote, by Confucious I think, along the lines of “muddy water, let stand still, all become clear”. I was going to talk about how you can find peace in your mind through simple actions of homemaking, like making your bed in the morning, kneading bread, folding the washing, cleaning the windows, how the repetitive unconscious act is enough to get the mind sufficiently out of the way to allow a quieter voice to begin to emerge.
I was going to say how I’d noticed that the days when I begin by making our beds in the morning always seem to turn out better…and I could still write about all that and maybe it would be valid, it is true for me, but it’s not really what’s going on right now, in this moment.
In this moment I am sitting here in fear and self loathing, trying to be brave enough to write something meaningful.
What was my crime? It wasn’t a raised voice, no anger, no threat, nothing major really if you look at it in isolation, just a few words and a look I gave my daughter at bedtime when she was upset and woke up her brother.
It’s not the first time i’ve been unkind to my little girl and i’m afraid to say it probably won’t be the last. But tonight my daughters beautiful little crest fallen and worried face is haunting me. And despite a fairly ok day, we painted, we read stories, we laughed, I feel utterly disappointed in myself for having made that choice again.
At 3 1/2 they remember, I don’t get to wipe the slate clean each day, not truly. From now on she will remember and this realisation sits with me and crushes my heart so I can hardly breathe. She can recall the harsh words, the excuses, the looks of disappointment, the anger the judgement the blame, the shame. Yes I can apologise and I do, yes I can seek to repair the bond each time I break it, and I will. And I have to hold out hope that it will be enough for us. That she will still know beyond any doubt that I love her for who she is.
What is choking me is the disappointment, in myself. That I can’t consistently do one very simple thing with the people that I love most in the whole world.. and that is be kind. Thats’ all I need to do, just be kind, why is it so bloody hard?
I’m not writing this for consolation, truly. I know this too shall pass. I know it’s part of the process. I know i’m only human and i’m truly not expecting to be perfect. I know we fall, we all fall and that’s part of life.
I’m writing because I promised to show up. I’m writing in case there’s someone out there who feels it too, this fear and self loathing and I want you to know that you’re not alone.