“You need to crush that seed of hope, Brie.”
It’s not every day where you hear those words. And these ones actually came from my therapist.
We were discussing the ways in which I let my thoughts loop and ruminate to replay what I wanted, what should have been. What I desired. Where I thought I would be. What I hoped would happen.
And this wasn’t just in regards to Aspen.
This was in relation to much of my life, where I stand today.
Honestly, nothing in the last odd 10 years has been even close to what I pictured for myself when I was younger.
Right now, however, it appears I just need to start settling in. To accept. To acknowledge and to receive what is in front of me, all of it. That means the shit, too.
In reality, nearly every attempt I’ve made to force something different has often only backfired.
To cause more pain, more rage, more hurt… and usually even more distance to the place I’m trying to go.
Which is where, exactly? I don’t know, I hear Peacetown, USA is lovely this time of year. Or perhaps, Chilloutville? Or maybe I could just move to Worryfree Lane. I mean, getting off Angry Avenue would be a start.
The level of stress, anxiousness, fear and full blown, frenzied frustration that has filled my bones this past year is something that has consumed me.
In some ways it's changed who I’ve become.
So how do I get back to a level of acceptance, or even to a level of okay-ness if you will, rather than try to fix, solve, push, pull, and… well, hope, for something else?
I was told by an amazing (and very wise owl) friend that it is a real possibility that I may never receive the “simplicity” of a diagnosis. That even if one came, the path and course she takes will continue to be her own. That no amount of love, effort, worry, or even, I don’t know, bloody damn insanity on my part will, in turn, alter her trajectory to the place I want her to go.
She’s literally going to define her course. Over a year on this road, and that is the one thing that has been profoundly clear.
Without any answers, her medical team continues to believe something is “wrong”, that the “wrongness” will reveal itself in the coming year(s). They also predict that her feeding tube will be required for continued growth for, at minimum, the next couple years.
Does this make me want to burn their offices down? Why yes, yes it does.
But then I put the matches down and take a big, fucking breath.
I pause to see where we are. Today.
I acknowledge just how far we’ve come.
And I accept that I can’t control tomorrow.
So much of my journey with Pen has been one of letting go my expectations of how I thought things should have been. Letting go of the desire of how different I wanted things to be. Honestly, in regards to it all. From her conception, to her birth and delivery, to her growth and development, to my role as her mother, to its impact on my relationship with my partner…
All of it has altered my previous understanding of what it means to become a mother and a family.
This experience in nearly.every.way has been so incredibly different from my first mama run with my two other girls.
And of course different doesn’t only mean worse.
While this tiny monkey has filled me with such intense feelings of failure, confusion and despair, she has also drowned me with such light, love, happiness and joy that is unlike anything I’ve felt before.
The gift of this journey is one that has shown me that while simple hope is lovely, it doesn’t serve when it derails me from accepting where I am today.
Which isn’t where I want to be, but in countless ways, is a place that holds its own magic.
I mean, seriously, look at that face above. Magic.
So I'm trying here, universe. Thank you for the lesson...
I'm here for it, as long as I don’t get arrested for arson because of it.