I had enough nightmare scenes last night
I had enough nightmare scenes last night to cover my body in a film of anxiety. One that had already settled over it with the passing day.
My fitful sleep left me in a fog of aggravation. Voices, hands, inane sentences clog my pores.
All the weight bearing down through my slight foam of a chillum and black tea sweetened with raw honey. I slowly suck gritty crystals off the heated spoon.
Time, slides her fingers along my backbones. I must depart with all this...these anxious images forming their spines again. Her black hair in my clenched fists. The velvet of his tongue, cooling on my throat, desperate questions answered.
I take this with me to work. Patience on the floor ground under toddler heels. I have nothing. I grope for Him but I'm lost in the lesson. I know He hasn't gone or left me but perhaps one just been dwelling in myself to hard. My Faith on the edge? So many questions. Group last night was just heady confusion. I was twisting and twining under everyone else's vivid addictions. Their relapses, crack, pcp, both missing teeth but spouting the most confusing steam.
He saw the reaper.
And those dreams of mine. I let the second one fall into my privacy, jarred by the tactile nature. The naked symbolism of it all.
In my lap, under my eyes is the weight.
Lena is beyond edgy and the big girls are just being their manic selves. The middle one a bouncing ball. Lena threw two tantrums, refused to apologize and was just overall miserable. Short, "No!" and sticking her tongue out at me. I have nothing for these moments but cannot pause for help. Don't think of it. I become angry shouting Tara.
Once we are settled in the car I collapse under what I know I have been doing. Now they are speaking to each other in harsh tones that mirror mine.
I tell them, I'm very anxious and all the yelling, shouting and clapping is making my skin feel itchy and that's why I am getting so frustrated. I haven't been sleeping well because I have been having bad dreams so I feel very tired from not sleeping well. So I'm sorry that I have been shouting so much.
The oldest two immediately begin to tell me how they have bad dreams too.
The 4 yr old wants to know what about.
I hesitate so the six year old chimes in, they are too scary.
I respond, it's not that they are scary as they are unsettling.
The morning aggravation evaporates with my admission of frustration and my apology. I send them on their way and it's just Lena and I.
She's been especially clingy lately. Even asking me while driving if she could sit on my lap. "I promise I won't fall off."
Lena wakes up from her nap not long after I wrote that prayer. She closes her bedroom door and comes over to me on the couch. She crawls onto my belly and curls over my chest. Tears well in my throat. I don't deserve this from a child I didn't make. She sits up and I say. I'm sorry for shouting at you. Still have asleep, cheeks rosey, she doesn't respond but wants to look through the movies on my phone.
Once she's chosen, she says, it's okay Tear-wah, it's okay.
Forgiveness is a beautiful terrifying thing.
My fitful sleep left me in a fog of aggravation. Voices, hands, inane sentences clog my pores.
All the weight bearing down through my slight foam of a chillum and black tea sweetened with raw honey. I slowly suck gritty crystals off the heated spoon.
Time, slides her fingers along my backbones. I must depart with all this...these anxious images forming their spines again. Her black hair in my clenched fists. The velvet of his tongue, cooling on my throat, desperate questions answered.
I take this with me to work. Patience on the floor ground under toddler heels. I have nothing. I grope for Him but I'm lost in the lesson. I know He hasn't gone or left me but perhaps one just been dwelling in myself to hard. My Faith on the edge? So many questions. Group last night was just heady confusion. I was twisting and twining under everyone else's vivid addictions. Their relapses, crack, pcp, both missing teeth but spouting the most confusing steam.
He saw the reaper.
And those dreams of mine. I let the second one fall into my privacy, jarred by the tactile nature. The naked symbolism of it all.
In my lap, under my eyes is the weight.
Lena is beyond edgy and the big girls are just being their manic selves. The middle one a bouncing ball. Lena threw two tantrums, refused to apologize and was just overall miserable. Short, "No!" and sticking her tongue out at me. I have nothing for these moments but cannot pause for help. Don't think of it. I become angry shouting Tara.
Once we are settled in the car I collapse under what I know I have been doing. Now they are speaking to each other in harsh tones that mirror mine.
I tell them, I'm very anxious and all the yelling, shouting and clapping is making my skin feel itchy and that's why I am getting so frustrated. I haven't been sleeping well because I have been having bad dreams so I feel very tired from not sleeping well. So I'm sorry that I have been shouting so much.
The oldest two immediately begin to tell me how they have bad dreams too.
The 4 yr old wants to know what about.
I hesitate so the six year old chimes in, they are too scary.
I respond, it's not that they are scary as they are unsettling.
The morning aggravation evaporates with my admission of frustration and my apology. I send them on their way and it's just Lena and I.
She's been especially clingy lately. Even asking me while driving if she could sit on my lap. "I promise I won't fall off."
Lena wakes up from her nap not long after I wrote that prayer. She closes her bedroom door and comes over to me on the couch. She crawls onto my belly and curls over my chest. Tears well in my throat. I don't deserve this from a child I didn't make. She sits up and I say. I'm sorry for shouting at you. Still have asleep, cheeks rosey, she doesn't respond but wants to look through the movies on my phone.
Once she's chosen, she says, it's okay Tear-wah, it's okay.
Forgiveness is a beautiful terrifying thing.