The days continue to pass by. One by one, ordinary and out-of-the ordinary. I do not feel them, to tell the truth. I just notice time moving by. I look up and there is another month gone.
I remember reading. I feel time pass while I meditate. I have a sense of the world around me as I sit on a picnic table in the parkette outside my office, eating lunch. Sometimes time freezes or even moves backwards, especially when I listen to music. I feel disconnected. If you were to look at my calendar you would see how busy I am. There is always something to do. Activities, fun, friends. But it does not touch me. Not anymore. I am untouchable now.
When I play with Rielle the time goes unnoticed. We laugh and talk and play and make meaning out of nothing. When she cries and I hold her, I can almost feel time again. But I don't do that anymore.
I make small talk now. I back away when people try to get closer. I don't mean to, it's just an automatic reaction.
And yet, there is peace. Not happiness - that would require me to move on, and despite all this time, it does not seem to be happening. But peace is possible. It's not satisfying, so I try being positive. I try having an open heart.
Just yesterday, stopped at a traffic light, I asked Rielle if we could give a coin she had found on the ground to the homeless man. She agreed and as I gave it to him, I gazed into his eyes and apologized it was all we had to give. And I could feel the tears building up behind my eyes. So I looked away and turned the music up a little louder.
I have hope. Of course, I must hope for the future. I try not to dwell on the past. I am trying to savour the moments. I am pushing myself past fear, past regrets and inhibitions. I am trying to do all the living I can do, so I can prove to others, but mostly myself, that I am still alive.
But most days I am not sure if that's true. I know I am needed. I know there are important things I must do. I book after school activities and I cook meals and I give cuddles. And I cry when I watch movies that remind me. I still have a heart. I am just unwilling to use it beyond a mother's love. A mother's love is giving. But there is no longer anything which fills my heart back up again. I will not risk exposing it, because it is brittle, and the merest wind might cause it to crack and break. And I still have to use it. As a mother.
I remember reading. I feel time pass while I meditate. I have a sense of the world around me as I sit on a picnic table in the parkette outside my office, eating lunch. Sometimes time freezes or even moves backwards, especially when I listen to music. I feel disconnected. If you were to look at my calendar you would see how busy I am. There is always something to do. Activities, fun, friends. But it does not touch me. Not anymore. I am untouchable now.
When I play with Rielle the time goes unnoticed. We laugh and talk and play and make meaning out of nothing. When she cries and I hold her, I can almost feel time again. But I don't do that anymore.
I make small talk now. I back away when people try to get closer. I don't mean to, it's just an automatic reaction.
And yet, there is peace. Not happiness - that would require me to move on, and despite all this time, it does not seem to be happening. But peace is possible. It's not satisfying, so I try being positive. I try having an open heart.
Just yesterday, stopped at a traffic light, I asked Rielle if we could give a coin she had found on the ground to the homeless man. She agreed and as I gave it to him, I gazed into his eyes and apologized it was all we had to give. And I could feel the tears building up behind my eyes. So I looked away and turned the music up a little louder.
I have hope. Of course, I must hope for the future. I try not to dwell on the past. I am trying to savour the moments. I am pushing myself past fear, past regrets and inhibitions. I am trying to do all the living I can do, so I can prove to others, but mostly myself, that I am still alive.
But most days I am not sure if that's true. I know I am needed. I know there are important things I must do. I book after school activities and I cook meals and I give cuddles. And I cry when I watch movies that remind me. I still have a heart. I am just unwilling to use it beyond a mother's love. A mother's love is giving. But there is no longer anything which fills my heart back up again. I will not risk exposing it, because it is brittle, and the merest wind might cause it to crack and break. And I still have to use it. As a mother.
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