Posted by: scintillatingspeck | September 6, 2015

What’s true: Jaggedness.

I would be baldly lying if I said the past week, or the past month for that matter, was all good and fine and okay.  It has been painful to the core.  It has taken every ounce of resolve in me to try to get a toehold in the seemingly sheer wall in front of me.

You’re doing it, though, Inner Wise Woman is quick to point out.  Please give yourself some credit, because nobody else knows the precise dimensions of how hard it’s been.  You are tough underneath.  You are doing good, foundational things, focusing on food and sleep and social contact, even if none of those things are proceeding ideally.  And you’ve been doing this while parenting a child who’s been volatile all week.  Not to mention all of the other unmentionable things.

Most times when I think I’ve gained some purchase on my slow climb, another rock falls on my head.  Some hours, some whole days, it seems to be raining rocks.

There are raspberries in the garden, red and ripe, and I pick them daily and freeze them.  The volunteer tomatoes are ripening.  The bush beans I planted at the end of July are flowering.  I make myself notice these things.  I want to shriek, “Appreciate!  Appreciate!” but that hardly seems the route toward a peaceful heart—I can’t spiritually whack myself into a state of okayness.  The raspberries and tomatoes and beans are all good.  I’m still hurting.

There are drowned Syrian refugee children.  It hurts to think about the suffering, and my speckish impotence in the face of such things.  The dead children are only part of it.  There is suffering among many.  I don’t know if it makes any difference to name it.  I don’t know much about changing the world other than changing myself and hoping it can ripple out.  It will never be enough.  I am not feeling strong.  I tell myself, start at the beginning.  Eat a tomato.  Get some sleep.  Try to take care of yourself.  You can’t do much if you are mired in the stricken-space, the bitter tunnel vision.  Nobody can reach you but you.

I see that I have stories upon stories about Who I Am, and Beliefs about How the World Works, and I squint at them, make them visible, ask them questions, tell them not to be so uppity and convinced of their solidity.  I think about failure, and writing, and mothering, and separation.  I think about relationships.  I think about cultural conditioning that oozes out of my pores.  I think about worthiness.  I think about community, family, and belonging.  And love.  The cruelest rock-throwing demons would have me believe I’ve forfeited any claim to receiving love.

My concentration is not so good.  I see the jaggedness of my writing, and it cuts me.  Just write what is true.  It ends up being more important to write what is true than to fuss about how it’s received.





  1. You write beautifully I hope days lighten. Meanwhile know that you have a gift

  2. May you receive my warm breeze of love for you and Lily. I have heard my whole life, the devil messes with you hard right before God Blesses you dearly. May God let His Blessing rain down hard on you. May the Angels give you Protection from evil and the ugliness in this World. And from one struggling momma to another, May this day be full of easy, comfortable Peacefulness. I can’t count the days I have send gratitude to you for the happy medicine you shared with me. Take an extra dose, it may help. with love, Lisa

    • You were prescient, Lisa. Thank you for your prayers and light!

      • I had to look up the word prescient. I love you are word smart. Thanks for teaching me a new one.Hope your day is beautiful. with love

  3. Kudos, dear shadow of my younger self! Powerful words and even more powerful memories. I have read the end of the book. In it you are much loved and gloriously happy!

  4. […] week ago I wrote a blog post and noted that I had been suffering quite a lot.  I knew that something had to give, but […]

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