I won’t be a hypocrite and say that I am a traditional Christian. I’m not. Yet every now and then a phrase from the bible rings true for me. The phrase about children leading probably strikes home more often than any other.
My son is my biggest critic, ally, motivation, comfort. Coming from a background of the kinds of abuse that makes Mommy Dearest look like the Easter Bunny, it’s been my goal to break the cycle and raise my child to be an individual who has faith in himself, recognizes forces bigger than him, and does not blindly follow authority for the sake of following authority. To that end I find that he often unknowingly conspires with the universe to give me a wake up call. You see, I’m hard headed, so you can’t just gently nudge me. I need a full on facial confrontation and a direct shove.
My son recently called me out. He knows I work hard. He knows I once loved my job as a writer much more than I do today. He knows it had meaning for me and he also knows I’ve stepped outside of that for the sake of the almighty dollar. He told me I was wasting my time, efforts, and talent and that I needed to get my shit together so I could be happy and he could have his “old mom” back. He’s 12…and he’s right.
When I started writing and going to college, I wanted to make a difference and to find a way to share some hope. As a child, I lived through various types of abuse and as a woman I had a 5 year round of domestic violence that I still pay the price for, having had my teeth recently repaired from damage that was done to them better than 10 years ago when my jaw was broken and a tooth knocked out. Let’s not beat around the bush either…I had those teeth replaced, not repaired. And true to his form, despite the court order, he did not pay the damages and still insists it never happened. That alone had me in tears for another week recently. I went through the whole array of old feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, and all the other elements that abuse so vividly introduces.
One of the ladies who writes with me recently went through her own bout. As my jaw was still throbbing, I felt energized as I tried to find some way to assist her. I felt alive and hopeful. I remembered my son’s words and I remembered that once there was a purpose to my writing.
I’m sorry that the world has to give me a shove to get things through my head. I wish I were more aware, more open. Yet it may be this tunnel vision I have that puts me on the right track. I have a whole new project coming up for survivors of abuse. I’m done wasting my skills just to make a dollar. I need something more…and so do you.
Our children are not held back by the fears that we learn to surround ourselves with. The universe, God, surrounding energy…whatever you want to call what you look to for comfort, it is not bound by those feelings that you embed in your soul. We hold ourselves back out of fear of failure or fear that success is undeserving, but we forget that those fears impact people outside ourselves.
You don’t even have to ask a question. The answers are all around you, in the drawing of a young child or the smell of an evening breeze.
Are you listening?
www.studentofmotherhood.blogspot.com
This blog feature was first published on the Chris Rice Cooper Blog Spot Dot Com on October 11, 2013
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