The world does not feel safe. My children do not feel safe from the world. Even from me. I feel frozen in fear, a huge energetic weight holds me down. Even my thoughts feel like heavy mush when this happens. We can’t move, and the thoughts can’t even move. Just squished down under a big heaviness.
Nothing feels safe. And I am small. All the time now, I am small. I know tomorrow i will have to do big things and be big again and I think I can. I feel so distant from everything. I’m not sure who I am anymore. When I must be mom, I am mom. Most of The time I can pull that out of me just fine. I do, when it’s time to, I do. It’s exhausting. Sometimes she is frantic and can’t handle any stress input or loud, and she feels she could explode in on herself. Everything is so loud sometimes in the head. And outside too. And I am screaming inside and life is too loud outside. And the body is overwhelmed and it’s hard to be a calm mom. I hate that.
And I crumble under the weight of it, my whole entirety is screaming
And I need my kids to be safe from the world and even safe from me. I am so scared for them. To have bad things happen to them that hPpened to me.
I am so scared the world hurts so much. The world will hurt you. Not much feels safe, but the husband feels safe and my dogs feels safe and my bear and my blanket and the weight of my dogs on me.
I’m not sure where I went when I left. I feel like maybe I left. I don’t know why I can’t be a person anymore. I look at pictures of me before and it feels so strange. I know I felt things then. I felt like a person. With a personality. And I was funny and I could feel different things. Like grown up things but also young people things. In the middle. I felt alive. I felt real.
I’m not sure where I went or who is in my place, but I feel like a shell. Just a shell trying to wade through quicksand to raise these kids and keep us safe.
Cars drive by and I feel strange thinking how they are all seperate people with their own intricate lives.
And who am I inside my life? Where did I go? When?
Sometimes when I feel small I can only just whisper. I like to be small in the night time now, most of them, because I run out of bigness. My husband is sad because I can’t make love to him, not for a long time – not anymore at all.
but when you are small you can just only be held, and that’s okay. That feels safe. That kind of touch is safe.
I don’t know why some of my parts had to go away. all my fun parts and bigger parts happy parts and loud, free, pretty, brave, happy parts are not allowed to come out anymore
I think they’re not allowed because we hurt ourselves when they come out. Not like self harm, but we are destructive and impulsive. We were too wild and we wanted to have fun in ways that hurt the system and the family.
But we are not happy without them.
We are sad and empty and trapped and it isn’t fair.
We must just have the mother now in the day and then at night we can be small.
But those are not the fun parts or the happy parts. The other parts were our good selves too and they were happy and fun and felt grown up too. But not too too grown up. They were just the right big, liek the kind everyone wants to be forever. But we got in trouble that way. But those parts could even sing. We can’t sing anymore.
They were the ones who didn’t have to work so hard or be serious and they kept us happy that way.
And now we are empty and sad and this is all that’s left. Just the functions that have to be mom, only, and at night time we can be small.
And it feels like I’m a stranger in my body sometimes. Just going through the motions. Riding in the car, but someone else is there, or gone, I don’t know. I don’t cook now. That part got shoved away. It’s not our fault, they arent allowed to come out anymore, or they just went away, I don’t know. Functioning is harder I think. Or maybe easier, The husband says easier, but it’s not true. It’s limited. My self is. My self is missing parts of me that I can’t be without. I needed to function – all of Me. All of me to function. Some of those functions are hard to access now.
Even though that was sometimes wild and unpredictable and got me in trouble, there was functions I needed.
Sometimes even words feel too big or loud, and I like to whisper better. And it feels nice when the sheet tent is on top of us like a big cave, but a really safe one. I like it kind of dark, I like the rest of the world outside of my tent to stay there, on the outside. I can’t see it. And inside here is just the husband, and he is big and safe and soft and he lets me be small. It’s safe to be small here. It’s funny sometimes. When he puts us in the sheet tent. It feels nice
I can’t be the mother though when I’m very small. If I have to, I must, but it’s hard. Things that are big are for tomorrow when I can be big. The mom can do the big things in the morning, but right now, I like the way my feet feel and my dog feels and my bear feels and I don’t want to be big. At night time I don’t have to be big.
I always wish the kids were here when they’re gone. I always feel so sad and heavy all the time when they are gone at the way I wasn’t good enough when they were here. I wish so bad I could protect them from the hurt.
Keep them in a safe tent like this one where nothing outside can get them and take back all the horrible things I’ve done or said when I was an angrier self. The more explosive self that couldn’t always be the best mom self because she wasn’t big enough or calm enough. She went away I think. But she had other functions.
I put on make up today and in the mirror she was so familiar. She felt pretty and deprived of life. She wanted to come out and play so bad, and have fun like she used to – and she was so sad. All day we were so sad.Published in