Today another shift. Another letting go.
This afternoon I gave away some of my favorites of Ada’s baby clothes. I will be selling some, giving away most of the rest and keeping a few for a legacy blanket (thanks to wholly jeanne for the idea and the support). This feels good and makes my heart ache at the same time. I need to let them go, to create space for what is to come and I need to honor the dreams that spent time in those vacuum sealed bags. Dreams of another child, of pulling those clothes out again for daughter number two or giving them happily away when a son came along. Going through them, I remembered the way Ada looked in a certain outfit, or how I felt when I bought it, or how I wished I’d realized something fit smaller than it should have and I’d missed the window because they grow – she grew – so fast.
So many memories, so much love.
I’m also clearing space inside. The magician discovered today that I feel guilty about sleeping well (what?!) and that it’s tied, once again, to beliefs formed by a little girl who didn’t understand the world around her. We pass emotions and beliefs on generationally without realizing. I wonder what Ada is getting from my current struggles, my grief, my growth. I hold out hope that her light is bright enough to withstand the current storm; that my attempts to turn my face in the direction of ease, love and presence will temper the moments when she feels responsible for what’s happening in our home. Because she’s a child and that’s what children do. It’s what I did. Inside me there’s a little girl who feels responsible for every tear her mother shed, a little girl who took on someone else’s journey as her own.
The same therapist who told me to dance used to ask me, What did you do that was so horrible, so wrong? There is no logical answer to that question from an adult point of view. But somewhere down in the fish poop is the belief that I am not worthy of a marriage that works, a child that lives, work that I love. It’s well buried at this point, this belief. I don’t know when I would have uncovered it if Ben hadn’t died. Grief has me diving deep and stirring things up that I thought were resolved, staring into the looking glass and falling down rabbit holes. This time, I’ve got help. Amazing healers keep appearing in my life and through the pain I hold the vision of myself shining brightly, hand in hand with those I love.
Right now the wounds are open, gaping, raw. I want them to heal clean this time, from the inside out. It’s time to help my inner little girl grow up.
Sweet thing, it’s not your fault. Let go.