Please. I watch you struggling to hold the pieces in a puzzle that is being not only turned upside but physically shaken by life and what it has offered you. Not an offering of love but difficulty, a trial or several trials that have gained control of the person that you no longer know. Where is that girl? The one that once upon a time was quick to laugh or smile, greeted people with a friendly hello at small town sports events and moved in social circles with an air of enviable confidence.
Your distance calls out as I watch the mother whose mouth is pulled too tight, notice a body that is perhaps too thin or noticeably heavy. Moving through life protecting your heart and guarding the thoughts that ravage your mind, not depression but an inability to admit the troubles of this world that plague us all and some more than others. Perhaps you have a husband that compares your faults to others' strengths, maybe you have a child who, though she has always been different, has begun to show a blaring gap with his peers, maybe your daughter like my son who has been always been his “own soul” is exhibiting signs that he could be on the spectrum. Truthfully, we all have our limits and another diagnosis In my family is not allowed right now.
Please share your feelings of fear, worry, anxiety and know that you have at least one friend who will listen to your vomit of words and sit silently, listening. Even if only one far away writer, a mother herself, know you have an ally who wants the best for you. She herself struggles to control the thoughts that originate from the heart and can drown our joy if we keep them buried. Let us aspire to embrace the freedom offered when we let it go. Not admitting our truths in the theme of transparency but so we can live freely to embrace joy, acknowledge the troubles, and not miss the one life we have all been given.