An Exhale of Acceptance

 

If it was simply an exhale of relief, I would know what to do. But it’s not. I find myself at this time of winter holiday feeling more fractured than ever. I don’t see my children anymore. One has indicated he wants no further contact, and the other continues as he has for almost twenty years. I don’t understand how any of this happened, but it has. I suspect it’s the tendency to hold others in a place of our own choosing that’s in play here. But then it can be hard to let go of past hurts, real or imagined through a child’s eyes.

It’s not been an easy road, being a mother. An empath, I could see the larger picture so I always wanted to be fair, occasionally to the point of indecision. I didn’t want either child to feel that I didn’t believe them, or that their voice mattered not. However, I never suffered from the debilitating syndrome of trying to be my child’s friend. I saw moms who did that and shuddered as I saw the damage they were doing. No, I was always their mother. But now the one who still occasionally speaks to me has reduced me to someone on the fringe. Although a matter of perspective, I suppose there’s some truth to that.

I suppose I’ve expected too much from them. We’ve had somewhat of an alternative lifestyle, given that we homeschooled after a point, and were martial artists with our own dojo. And although I basically lived as a witch, I never found the right words to tell anyone until a few years ago. It had always been a private reality for me, growing up as a witch and an empath as well. It was my safety. It was my truth, but I never felt safe enough to tell anyone other than a few who suspected in high school and college. After that, I worried about staying employed, married, etc. Witches weren’t as mainstream as they are now. And I feel horrible that I wasn’t on the front lines of that struggle, aligned with my sisters and brothers in that effort. But it is what it is and I can’t go back and change any of it.

So the exhale I believe is about looking at my life and accepting what is. Maybe someday my boys will forgive me for being a mother who encouraged them to consider the “possibility of”, to convey that they could accomplish anything they chose, and to live with integrity and purpose. Or maybe they’ll just forgive me because they realize that there was no roadmap for a mother with gifted children. Because I’m not the only one. Maybe they’ll realize I did the best I could do, that I never abandoned them, no matter what the situation, no matter the circumstance.

Maybe they’ll exhale as well and realize that they’ll always have a home in their mother’s heart.

~Blessed Be