“Why are you Crying Mommy?”
We all have one.
A story. That is crying to come out. There is no other pain like the suppression that comes with keeping your story submerged. It longs to see the light.
I dare you to tell me your story.
No, you first. Ok, fine. I’ll go first.
I need to dye my hair. I need to paint my nails. I need to be more outgoing. I need to stop crying so much. I need to make more money. I need to eat less sugar. I need to eat less, period. I need to exercise more. I need to talk more. I need to talk less. I need to be prettier. I need to have more energy. I need to be better. I need to love myself.
“Why are you crying mommy?”
Because, I am empty. Because I believe I am nothing. Because I believe I have nothing to offer. I am good for nothing. I am worthless. I need to be different, but I’m not. I’m just myself, who I hate, and wish I could ferociously change.
I see your hands sweetheart. I see your hands, hold me.
I love you. You are perfect. Your precious angel hands. I see you reaching for me, crying too. You don’t like it when mommy is sad. When she pretends to be something she is not. I see your tiny, innocent hands reaching for me, inviting me back home. Oh, how I long to return. I love you, I love you, I am here, I’m right here sweetheart, I assured her.
“Mommy, mommy! There’s a ghost in my room. She stares in the mirror and looks afraid and sad. Her eyes are dark and heavy and her skin is grey and dull. She has sad face on. Where did she come from mommy?”
Hold my hands. I’m right here. Love is right here. I love you, I said to myself. I love you, I said to my hands. I love you, I said to her hands. I wonder what you will create with those powerful, precious tools of yours. Where will they go? What will they touch? What will they make? What will they hold? What will they reach for?
I forgive my hands. I forgive my hands for all of the times I used them to hurt me, to run away, to escape.
I forgive you for the hands of pills you have held. And the handfuls that went down your throat and into your belly to try to drown your heart.
You are perfect, and I love you. I am here, and I love you.
The shakey, scared hands that said “I need more of these. I don’t ever want to see my hands, ever again.”
“Mommy she has tears on her face!”
Because I didn’t believe I was enough to be here sweetie, but I am here, and I love you. And I see that this whole time I have been perfect all along. Your hands are love, darling, you are love. You are safe, you are love, don’t ever let go of the love in your hands. Keep you you, honey, you are special, oh so special.
I forgive my hands for all of the reaching. All of the reaching and all of the releasing.
The reaching, for something, someone, anything to save me. For the razor blade to slice my skin, reaching for relief, asking for love, hold me, be here, I love you.
Releasing the fork, I don’t want another bite, I’m too fat, I can’t eat, I’m terrified, reaching for love, hold me.
“Mommy she is screaming, how do we help her mama?”
Reaching, God give me something.
Reaching, someone fill me with something.
Reaching, make me better, prettier, stronger, more alive, more desired, better.
Reaching, to be enough.
Releasing, because I am too much.
Giving away the power my hands hold, giving away the love my hands hold, take it. Let it go, empty me to fill me. Empty me, for I already am nothing.
You are perfect, come here, hold me. I am here, and I love you.
Reaching, bottles, fill me. Reaching, pills, destroy me. Reaching, scale, save me.
Grasping, I can’t let go of all of you, I NEED YOU.
Squeeze a little tighter, stay a little longer, there is nothing here, I am nothing here so stay with me, you can’t leave me I will be all alone and how could I remember that you are here and that you love me? I can’t even see my hands anymore they are too far away and clasped and clenched so tightly, full of dark demons of destruction.
"Mama give her hug! She need hugs!"
Open hands, vulnerable hands, vulnerable heart. NO, CLOSE!
Release, soften, open up.
Turn in, turn into, each other. See? They fit perfectly together. To hold, to love, to connect, to cherish, to be. You are all you will ever need, honey. You are enough. You are here, and I love you.
I release the need to destroy myself. I release the need to fill myself. I release the need to reach.
I turn in, rest my hands together.
I found you, waiting for what never left to return.
"Look mama! She has smile now! She's dancing mama!"
I forget, to remember. I release, to reclaim. I welcome the death of my distortion to birth the beauty of my being.
This is my story. This is your story. This is the story of pure light sent out into the world. Tainted, twisted, and tinted along the way. And the sweet remembrance of recollecting it all back home.
Here’s to the resurrection of original innocence. I dedicate this writing to my daughter, Lily. This is the collection of stories that spark in me as I raise her and recollect myself. It is because of her presence in my life that I deeply desire to shamelessly shine the light that guides lost ones back home to the heart, to the truth, to love.