again and again

Everything keeps coming out wrong. I try to write what this week held and I just can't. I feel that way about going downstairs to change the laundry, too. I think of doing it and then I just can't. I walk to the bed and lie down instead, like it's the only option in the world. That's what I do sometimes.

I suppose it's pregnancy hormones or the winter blues. It just feels extra cold and dark in every way lately and then when hard things happen, they feel extra hard. My thoughts get too heavy behind my eyes and then I just can't pick up the book or the phone or write it out or play slap jack again. Or go downstairs for the laundry.

Something strange is happening though, because I don't feel like a horrible person or even a horrible mother over it. This is new. Usually I'm very very good at the guilty thoughts that make it even worse.


The boys and I watched part of Harry and the Hendersons yesterday. I had completely forgotten that movie, since it's from the 80's and that means it's been a while. I forgot that the beginning is kind of scary, with this big hairy guy that looks like a monster getting hit by the family car and all that.

Asher reached over and took my hand and pulled it over his other hand and he whispered, Mommy, keep touching me.

So I did, as long as he needed, I did.

It didn't take long for him to not need the grasping. He went on to laugh at Harry, the furry family friend, and forgot his fear. And I thought about how we all need that. We all need just a moment from each other, to just show up for the being together while the hard feelings swing through again, whatever the reason is that they came.

We just need a touch.

This week held something really hard and I wish I could fight to make sense of it, to write about it, but I can't. It's not my story to tell and it's not coming out right anyway. I think maybe I wanted to write and write until I wrote something so profound that it made everything make sense for all who are grieving...but there is so much that doesn't make sense and so I'm choosing to accept that rather than believe the lie that I always have the answers in me somewhere and I'll find them, if only I think long and hard enough. Sure, there are answers, to many things, but there are none for many things, too. And maybe that's okay.

I'm learning not to fight to know what to say or to fix or control. I'm learning not to do that because it feels desperate and false and it tries to steal mystery and grace. And I usually really mess things up, when I pretend at knowing what to do or say or be. Because all I really need to do is to show up, to stop pretending, and to extend my hand for the touch.

That's all.
To say I don't know either
and then just love.
Until it passes
again and again
and again.

20 clicked right here to comment:

Corinne said...

Thinking of you....
Sending some hugs.

swonderful said...

lots of love heather. i haven't been writing anything or taking photos of anything or anything, either. xo

Pamela said...

Oh, how I get this.

Tessa said...

In Zen buddhism there is something called a koan (koh-ahn) and it is a paradoxical anecdote or riddle, demonstrating the inadequacy of logical reasoning.
Many times, for me, questions just lead to more questions and sometimes we just have to sit with the question, you know? We may not find an answer, but rather peace without an answer.

Peace to you and yours.

trishatfox said...

Your recovery is continuing in really profound ways. It's amazing how you can articulate these steps, which probably don't feel like steps. But are huge ones. Good for you.

TKW said...

Just know that coming from you, that "I don't know either" means everything. Sniffle. Damn you, you did it again.

One Crafty Mother said...

Oh, how I loved this:

but there is so much that doesn't make sense and so I'm choosing to accept that rather than believe the lie that I always have the answers in me somewhere and I'll find them, if only I think long and hard enough. Sure, there are answers, to many things, but there are none for many things, too. And maybe that's okay.

This is beautiful, Heather. I'm sorry for all you have going on, but like another commenter said your perspective on everything is so very real. And it will help you heal.



Ann Imig said...

My career coach is a firm believer in sabbatical.

A sabbatical can be as big as quitting your job, or taking leave, or as small as a day off or allowing yourself to leave the laundry.

A sabbatical is a reset button--and everyone needs and deserves ones.

Even if it is just a brain/faith/fixing things one.



Simply Created by Cole said...

Thinking of you...I hear what you are saying. Sending *hugs* and *chocolate* your way. :)


~j. said...

I am a firm believer that you happen to always say precisely the right thing.

Cynthia said...

Some things can only be handled with a sincere "I'm sorry you have to endure this pain" and a hug. Over and over if necessary. I pray that comfort will come eventually to those in your life who stand in need of it at this time. I'm sorry.

dangerous linda said...

Hopefully, the gift of writing this blog for us was therapeutic for you as well. Again, you captured the very essence of what many people feel (especially this time of year ...)

Melissa said...


You and your blog are truly amazing.

That's all.


Elaine A. said...

I'm smiling at your description of Asher and you watching the movie because something VERY similar happened with me and my oldest this weekend. We were watching a Hallmark movie in which this precious dog goes to rescue some kids from a forest fire and Ben was so scared of what was going to happen in the movie and I almost wanted to turn it off so that he wouldn't be scared. But then I realized that it would all work out and he needed to see that it would be fine in the end. But not before he came running to sit next to me while the fire was ablaze... :)

annie said...

Beautiful post! I'm so glad I clicked on your name in the comments over at Pricess Mikkimoto! I think you articulated so well what most of us struggle with.

Sometimes just a hand to hold keeps us up under the weight of all the big stuff.

Stacey said...

i recently stumbled across your blog and i'm intrigued!! i appreciate your honesty from what i've read so far.

i awarded you a Stylish Blogger Award. head over to http://www.agoodandsimplelife.com/2011/01/stylish-blogger-award.html and check it out!

Anonymous said...

To say I don't know either. - So simple...and so hard.

Thinking of you and always available if you need.Because sometimes it's nice to not know with someone else.


Denise said...

This idea--being ok with not knowing. This is, at the core of all truths, THE truth, I think. Sometimes I just don't know. And I rail against this knowledge. A lot. Yet today, you made that ok with your words.

Jessica said...

First trimester combined with January is simply awful- and yet you continue to give us these beautiful words. How do you do it? Thanks for this grace today.

Adventures In Babywearing said...

Oh my gosh I loved that movie.

And your first paragraphs there describe me to a T but I am very not pregnant. So.

Anyway. Why won't you come move next door? It would just make so many things so much better.


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