Waves

How do you describe a wave?
Water pushing and pulling. Dancing upon itself.  Folding.  Grasping the dappling sun, pulling it beneath the teal waters. Twisting and turning. Capturing and releasing. At its peak it rolls, curling under, ready to submit to itself.
I am having problems with my fiction writing. While it was flowing before now it seems to have dried up. So I thought that I would begin to write. Let the words flow from my mind to my fingers. It did not matter what I was writing, I needed to be writing.
I keep picturing the wave in my mind. Seeing it build and peak and crash back down. Or smooth out softly hitting the shore with barely a ripple.
When I was younger, I would go to the cabin with my amma. The dogs.  It was at Beaver Creek, now known as Beaver Creek Provincial Park. It is on Lake Winnipeg. I loved swimming when it was rough. Wading in, diving through the waves. Laying back and letting the water hold me, keeping me safe. I would ride the waves. Letting the water lift and lower me. The water was my friend, warm even if the day was gloomy and overcast. I have always loved the water, feeling protected and secure.
I miss being a little girl. I miss my amma. I miss my grandma and grandpa. I want a chance to do it all over again. I want the chance to make different choices. I want to fly. I want to dream. I want to live as though tomorrow has no consequences.
I know that this is not realistic. I am an adult, I have responsibilities. I have a life. A son. So going back is not an option for me. And besides all my choices have lead to me being here.
I have always felt strong emotions. Sadness. Fear. Love. Pain. Joy. Happiness. Anger. And I really never knew how to deal with them. I was unable to see that eventually they would pass and I would go back to it being alright. I did not know how to let go of those emotions. I hoarded them. All the hurt and pain, I shut it out. I never learned to navigate those emotional waters. How much has time changed. Now my main goal is making sure that T is able to do so.
That he is going to know that not everything is going to go the way that he wants it to. He will learn to weather the disappointments and let downs, knowing that they are not going to last forever. T will ride the wave better than I have.
Going forward when things get a little much for me, I will ride the waves. The anxiety, pain, fear, disappointment whatever it maybe, I will go up and crest. Than slowly come down the other side. Landing upon the shoreline. I will ride each wave. Secure in the knowledge that the waves can be swum, I no longer need to fear being submerged and drowned.

Good Enough Woman

Friday I was talking with M. She was not feeling well and had decided to go home. I cheered this decision. Because as I have learned ignoring your own needs and those of your body is detrimental to your mental and physical well-being.
At first she attempted to downplay how she was feeling. Her heart was doing some funky things. She was not sick sick. Not contagious. I was a little ticked off and told her that whether mentally, physically or emotionally ill, you have to take time for yourself. That being stupid like that is greatly overrated. To which she asked if I had never worked when I was sick.
Yes, I have. I often feel guilty that I am calling in sick. I pushed myself through at least two months of depression before I finally hit my rock bottom. I have been made to feel that I should work through any illness that I might have. That if my child is sick I am required to make other arrangements. I must be there. Well hell guess what? I no longer choose to allow someone else to decide whether I am healthy enough to work or not.  I will no longer not be with T when he is ill. Children need you. I still want my mom when I am sick. So she can tuck me in and make things all better. It doesn’t really but I can pretend.
My response may have been a little extreme. I mean we were texting and I could have edited but my text went to her as though she was sitting in the room with me.
“I have and where the fuck did that get me? Emotionally and mentally ill. Breaking down because I thought I had to be superwoman.’
And there is the crux of it. I thought I could burn my candle at both ends and get away with it. It is not possible. It is not healthy,  I thought that if I was superwoman, if I was perfect that everything would fall into place and my world would begin to make sense. But it didn’t. Again, Superwoman is overrated. Being her requires a lot of personal sacrafice and being there for everyone but yourself.
Personally I prefer to be ‘The Good Enough Woman’.
The Good Enough Woman:
My son thinks that I am an amazing person. He believes in me. He believes in my writing.
I have learned who my supporters and friends truely are.
I have found myself again. The real me. Not the one who used alcohol and drugs to escape her pain.
I have found strength.
I have reprioritized my wants and desires.
I am reaching for the stars.
I wake each morning feeling satisfied and wonderful.
I am settling the past and living in the today.
I am learning, each and every day, new things about myself.
I am able to own my feelings.
I am able to now see when I allow others to affect my mindset and self. (They whoever they may be do not have the right to make me feel as though my best is not good enough) And I will calmly explain that this is how I feel and I do not appreciate it.
I am good enough for myself. I am good enough for T. I am good enough for the people that orbit in my life.
No one is perfect. I don’t care what you believe. No amount of striving and reaching will ever be enough. You are always going to fall short.
And when you fall short the recriminations, the disgust, the need to push beyond your limits will fell you like the mighty oak. And perfection is overrated. We all have flaws. We all have imperfections. And that is what makes this beautiful world of ours so magnificent.