The heater blows full, on high, warming the van before we take off on a quick zip to see family. It was our oldest sons’ idea to go a couple days ago and we aligned our Sunday plans to fulfill his request.
But as the classical notes from the CD player breathe through the noisy vehicle fans, my heart sits heavy. I’ve lost count of the times when Elliott’s brain screeches on the breaks as we ready to go anywhere. We’re into the umpteenth-thousands…and I’m never prepared for the sinkhole feeling that comes, wanting to swallow my whole body…the hot tears that pool in my eyes and I dare not blink or they will never stop coming.
Even though I hate what it does to him, I love him still.
Like a quicksand that we are both in at the very same time, the more I try to save him, the more we’re buried and the less leverage I have to save him.
I’m angry. Furious at what it steals from him, our family, and his close friends. I feel like a fire-breathing dragon ready and able to sear this nasty thief.
I take the stance and breathe in enormously. Aiming for the eye of the storm, I’m about to release all the fury…all the fierce love I have to protect him and all of us.
At the last second, I see him laying in the wake, the war path if you will, curled in a fetal position, having already been hit by an invisible blow that even I didn’t see coming.
I swallow my fireball and it descends, burning all the way to the pit of my belly.
For if I had released it, the damage would be on the boy.
I want to be a dragon. I want to breathe fire and kill off all that hurts him and my family. In order to do that, any wayward flames would singe all of the things that have been born out of the limitations.
We all have our very own monstrosities that rear their wildness and mysteries causing us so much pain we crumble in their wake. They waft fear into our lives and upon their arrival our lungs exhale sighs of exhaustion and defeat…our shoulders shrug in surrender.
They can stir such frustration that our strength plummets at an astounding rate and all hope feels lost.
When you feel like what you are trying to do to hold your child up or diminish their pain and everything you try produces little to zero results you wind up in a hopeless state.
Is it really possible to feel strong again as a mom? As a woman? Together as parents?
Yes. Yes. And YES!
You can have days, like I did in my story above, and momentarily wonder how you are going to get through.
You can stay calm. You can overcome. You can stay connected to your child…no matter what is going on that day.
Start here with this Free Audio I made for times just like these. I can help you stand ON the fear and pin it down so defeat becomes a thing of the past! You will move forward and have HOPE once again!