Five glorious years

Today my daughter got into trouble. Nothing major but I can tell that it left a stain on the day. She wouldn’t listen so I yelled. After that moment she refused to talk to me. Even after I apologized and asked for her forgiveness she did not speak. Only later did she tell me that I hurt her feeling.

My daughter is five.

I should have more respect for this tiny human and yet. I think I put to much on her shoulders. I think I expect to much and get angry. She isn’t the best listener. She gets overly excited about pretty much everything. But that does not deserve my anger no matter how frustrating it can be at times.

My daughter is five.

I feel like such a monster. I told her so. I told her how I did not wish to hurt her. I apologized and asked for forgivenesd but…I also told her that it was ok. She did not have to accept my sorry. She did not even have to forgive me. What I said, what I did, left a stain on our day. I would do anything to go back and change what I did.

My daughter is only five.

And yet she lives her life with a mother who struggles with mental illness. She knows emotions like other children know candy and shopping sprees. She can tell you safety plans for every occasion and exactly what it means when mommy can’t seem to sleep.

Yet she tells me I am the best mommy ever. That she loves me no matter what. That she is proud of me. She looks forward to my hugs. She smiles so brightly when I tell her how I feel…even on the bad days. I am so proud of her and I tell her. I tell her all the time. I may be a monster but in her eyes I am worth it. In my eyes she is a reason.

I did it

Looking back now I am not sure how I reached this point. I think apart of me is scared that this will all end up being a dream. She won’t be here sleeping next to me. Instead I will be in am empty room. In a house filled to the room with depression and regret. I would possibly…I may even be dead.

But I did it. And looking at her. I can’t help but be afraid. I do not think I am enough. But in the end. Even that fear is worth it.

I love you my sunshine.

Juice From The Berry Tree

I never persumed to know love

Tickled beneath a berry tree

as giggles touched the leaves

I was never one to really believe

In love and all those silly things

But here I sit in stiled laughter

With a daunting dancing daughter

Her smile lightens my darkened heart

Beneath this berry tree

1 by 1, 2 by 2, she calls to me, lovingly

Beneath this berry tree

Perfected

School is almost over for me. Got one more semester to go before I get my AS and go off to a four year college for a BA. I still have dreams to get a degree in Philosophy but I just can’t seem to make up my mind about what else I want to go for. I am trying to decide between Psychology and Sociology. I know I want to help people in any way that I can but with my issues I am not sure how to go about doing that. Either way, here is to another semester!

As for other updates. My little one is on her way to Kindergarten. I should be excited…but I am not. I am scared because I do not know what to expect in the world. A part of me wants to just wrap her up into a bubble. But I can’t do that to her. I do not know how other parents do it. How they can be so trusting and hopeful. I hate how terrible I feel because I want a normal life for her. She deserves so much good in this world and I am just not it.

Parenting a child as a person with mental illness is hard. I like to think that it is worth it. That she will grow up to be a well adjusted adult. But the risk…I do not know if I am worth it.

Tasteless

A word spoken into exsitance has the power to tear me down but I can’t let it. I know it would be better to take it back but I lost the flavor and now can remember what it was like before. This word gives meaning when there wasn’t any. Bringing to life things that I should have just let die but I can’t. It is a curse to go back and give it away. Cracks appear on my mind because I decided to trust this broken word with a broken meaning. Leaving me spinning. Telling tall tales about how I have courage to defeat my own creation. But I guess I am paitent.

I guess I am just that paitent.

Nocha

I am not an incubator for your pleasure

and yet you deem me worthy of your favor

as if I should drop everything and run

because you have so much in common with the sun

“He didn’t mean it” and yet it was said

how my morning star was better off dead

because if I loved him, if I cared

I would have buried when she barely appeared

but I am the monster because I choose not to forgive

go head and sanctify me

shower me with despair

because it is how you show you care

You see me as corrupted with power because I will not give in

you count my blessing as your own win

hold it over me as though I seek your saving grace

Well Fuck you, you can’t even look her in the face

Tell her you begged me to do the deed

Tell her how you threaten that you will leave

Let her known about your fire

Let her know that you wish to wield all the power

and when she waters heavens with her tears

and causally throws down her spear

When she shows your the lamb and tiger are one

I want you to know who has truly won

I will not be your incubator

and you are far from being my savior

my saving grace, my morning star

she is all I need thus far

and when the heavens soon turn bright

we will both hear her battle cry in the night

A/N Poem dedicated to a beautiful little girl. Mommy loves you.

Joyful Motherhood

I don’t know how to tell my mother I love her. For that, I guess I should be grateful. How can I say such things when I really do not understand the meaning, the feeling, of these simple words. If it were up to me I would shout them from the heavens. I would tell her all the ways I appreciate her and the things she has done. How proud of her with how far she has come. I guess that is love and yet I am confused. These words, so overly spoken, only have meaning because I give them such. So what if she hears my shouted words and hears something other then love? Does that make what I said false?

Should I give up?

See, the word love has always confused me. It is a subjective response to something. What I may confuse as love others may believe it to be anything but…but would that be my fault?

Maybe because I do not understand this I can not accurately predict the way which is best to express it. What if my mother needs gifts, simple actions, wishes of more? Of course, for a friend it would be different, for my daughter even more so.

How can I unpack the various ways to show love and accurately pinpoint which ones works best with which person without going through the motions of stress.

I guess this is a lot to think about because, honestly, none of it really matters in the grand scheme of things. See life is unpredictable, at least it is to me. Something so simple as love and expression, trust and affection, will not look the same for everyone I meet. But intention! Yes, see intention, is sometimes all that matters.

I do not know a lot about love but I wish for my mother to know how much I care. I want her to know that I appreciate the courage it has taken her to bring her children to this point. I have a daughter, my own precious little one, and my mother has given me all of her skills, the good and the bad in raising her. I may not know how to properly show this love but I feel my intent, with every attempt, is enough.