The Unbearable Lightness of Being

The tears start to stream down my face, I'm caught between the fear of my desire to end my life and my desire to hold my (currently sleeping) daughters in my arms because I am so thankful for their arrival in my life. I cry because I couldn't bear to leave them without a mother, despite the fantasy that ending my life would take care of the pain I feel, and am so thankful that they are here, holding me back from the scary place where suicide crosses my mind. I feel ashamed to write this, but I need to get it out of my head, and maybe eventually help someone who feels this way too, at least to know they aren't alone.

I'm finally tackling these issues head on because I don't want to pass on these neuroses to them. I don't want them to grow up with a mother that only inhabits her mind and is tormented because of the presence of her body.

Luckily for me, my first born cries out in her sleep enough that I can justify picking her up. She settles back to sleep quickly, in my arms, her measured breaths lightly tickling my collar bone. I type one-handed.

A fully occupied body allows me to enjoy her presence, to support her growing weight with my arm, and to savor her smooth skin with my cheek. I try to forget the glance of my large upper arm I just had while reaching for the keyboard, because those tormenting thoughts rush in to occupy my mind with vile hate for my body, for what it has become, buried under all this weight. I try to turn back to the experiencing of my daughter in my arms, and to remembering to treat myself with compassion. The upper arm and the vile thoughts currently tied to it continue to try and grab my attention, resting just at the bottom of my peripheral vision.

I turn my attention as fully as I can to savoring her presence in my arms and briefly I am filled with the ecstasy of motherhood, a place that has been in its own right has been a challenge to get to. I savor this until I need to set her down to get myself off to bed as well, only because I have to be really productive tomorrow cleaning our place because of my mother's impending visit. I also will likely be woken up by first born's hunger, because she fell asleep before taking her last bottle of the day, which will mean lost precious sleep.

Getting enough sleep helps to keep the vile thoughts at bay, and thankfully I've found that if I fall asleep listing to a podcast of truly positive truths, I don't torment myself as I go to sleep, either. And as the dishwasher whirs, the pain of the stress fracture in my foot pokes into my thoughts, and I finish this post, I continue to relive the pleasure of first born's presence and essence in my arms. I feel a lightness in my spirit I haven't felt in a long time.