what's wrong with me? i don't know. i can make all kind of excuses for not blogging--like our computer is on the fritz and i've been sucked into the facebook nexus instead...but really i think there is something deeper, and i can't quite put my finger on it. i have lots of things to say, but i seem to have this wall between me and the actual sitting down and writing process, even in my journal (which has always been sporadic and spans many different felt and leather books.) i feel something emotionally toxic building up inside me, as well: negativity, jealousies, unstoppable impatience, laziness. its amazing to me how forgiving my family has been, but i don't like what's going on. i feel like i've regressed a decade in maturity over just a few weeks, and i am not sure who or what to blame--i'd like to blame myself but in the past i've been able to pull myself up by my clog-straps when i've recognized a problem. i'm perplexed because i've been doing much for myself and my relationships: i work a few days a month outside the home making good money, i am exercising regularly, eating well and avoiding soy reactions, having nights-out once or twice a week with good company, blake and i are connected and getting along well, and my house is almost always tidy and clean. i should be tip-top!
but something is amiss. the worst part is my mothering. i'm awful right now--no where near being the kind of parent i want to be, approaches and philosophies be damned. my poor children get the brunt of my frustrations everytime. i find myself apologizing for my riduculous outbursts too often. most concerning is how this affects my relationship with mayan, who even on our best days have to work at a connection. to remove her from the mine field of my potential rants, which do nothing for her self-worth, she has been spending more days at nomad, where she is very happy to play chess and being the nomad assistant (she now sets up for piercings and stocks needles from the back.)
somehow isadore weathers these storms with more grace than any five year old i've ever met. a few days ago, i was coming down pretty hard on mayan over something stupid i'm sure, like housework or homework, and isadore witnessed the whole event from her barstool, while coloring and practicing her handwriting. mayan had stormed off bubbling with anger and i let her go so i could allow myself to calm down. isadore casually climbed down from her stool and into the kitchen and began to do a little housework, and as she did this she mused, "i love you, mom." and when i say "mused" i really mean that--it was not some please-don't-turn-that-anger-toward-me attempt, it was relaxed and matter-of-fact. i was stunned by it and plainly said "isadore, how can you say that after my terrible outburst?"
"i don't care about that. i only care that i love you," she told me.
at this point i had to sit down. i was in awe of her unconditional love, such a stark contrast of my own example i'd just set, and could only say "where did you come from??"
she smiled and leaned on the counter and replied, "i come from my heart."
maybe that's what missing for me right now--a path to my heart. i don't seem to operating from that place, so how could i possiby write without that source? i have much to learn from all of my children, and right now isadore is my top mentor--her forgiveness, her bravery, her big wide-open heart. i'd like to be like that when i grow up.
i can't promise i will start writing again any time soon. although i will say writing this feels pretty darn good. i don't feel depressed per se, which i've experienced before so i am not sure what to pursue to feel better. i can promise i will continue to try and put my finger on it; that never stops for me. i'm alwasy examining and reflecting on my behavior, just lately it feel like the "do-er" and "reflector" are two different people, worlds apart. in the meantime, i just hope and pray that my children are well-equipped with their grouchy-mama-repellant rain gear.