Thursday, December 3, 2009

Kid tears ...


Crying girl
Originally uploaded by ilya.b

Snot overflowing. Salt water splattering from every part of the eyes and pummeling the face with gale force intensity. Chest caves in. Heart feels like it may bust open the rib cage from the sheer pressure of its ache. This is the impact of my little one's sadness on my adult body. It is years of caged up, stuffed down, pushed away, no place here for tears. These days, they can sneak up on me quite unexpectedly or they can slowly build and I feel them in the background, like hearing the creaking of logs about to split open right before the man-made dam bursts.

Tonight's appearance of kid tears took me by surprise. I had a lovely, heartfelt day on my last day of classes with my research students. A day of kind words and feedback and genuine hugs. My stomach has returned to near normal and it was the first day in a few I felt pretty good. A lovely women's meeting this evening and good company. The drive home began with Christmas music and gazing at the moon. A brief stop at the ShopRite to pick up "real food" and continued movement home, picking up where I left off with the holiday tunes and moon-watching.

And then the wave came crashing. Hard. Forceful. A wailing wall of water. My adult self took control of the wheel, attempting to remain on the road through drippy lenses. And I remembered what my healer told me about the importance of this space, this time alone and my attending to what arises for my little one. She was making herself known and heard and felt in the biggest of ways -- "biggest" being the operative word, as she was required to be invisible and to not utter a peep, especially when it came to crying. And I acknowledged her and I named some of her feelings: "Sadness"; "Scared"; "Heartache". I reminded her that she could cry as hard as she wanted because she had the freedom to do that here. And she wanted me to know it was about the moon. And I remember writing about the moon being one of the first important "anchors" for me as a little girl, something I could always count on when I felt most alone.

The moon, just a day past its phase of being full, shimmered so brightly tonight, filling up the sky with its glow. I am aware that my adult self also experiences melancholy with the significance of the moon and its meaning, especially as it relates to the connection with the love of my life. All of this was here under the light of the moon. It took my little one's bravery to allow the emotions to surface and to have a place to live; my adult self, the one who sometimes still believes she needs to be "strong", would easily push those feelings down and away, often unconsciously. In the midst of my little girl's fury of tears, my adult self asked G-d, once again, for help. To hold me so I could hold her so she could know there's a safe place for her kid tears -- this is an absolute divine gift of healing.

And, after the tears dried up and we both got into our warm home, the Christmas tree lights were turned on and we ate Funny Bones.
I never imagined I had the capacity for this and yet I always knew that somehow I would have the opportunity to be a loving "mother". Who knew that I would be doing this for the little girl who resides in me who always longed for one.

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