It’s not often that I allow myself to become a blubbering hot mess allowing the ugly tears to run freely down my face. It’s not often that I allow the floodgates to open so completely and uninhibited. My Constant doesn’t see me this way. Usually I choke down the tears and perhaps allow one or two to flow. This time I was a complete hot mess.
The last time I remember being like this was when I was still with my ex-husband. Thinking that there was something wrong with me and I was so very flawed, I bawled, lying on the ground, crying out, “This is not who you married,” hoping for help. Begging for assurance. But he looked at me with contempt and walked away.
I keep my emotions to myself and struggle to let them loose and run freely. I know my Constant can handle it but I rarely can be so uninhibited. I struggle to allow myself to be vulnerable like that again. It’s why I write. This is my outlet. This is the place I allow myself to be most vulnerable. It’s my place of being completely me as I try to navigate this brutal and beautiful place called Life. It’s my place of letting down the facade and taking off the mask.
Today I realized that my family of origin is going camping with my ex-husband and my five eldest kids – again. It hurts like hell. Now it’s not just a rejection of me, it’s a rejection of my daughter. As a Mum, that is a knife wound. The mother bear comes out and yet I can’t protect her from this kind of hurt. I can only do my best to surround her with as much love from our other kids and my Constant’s family. She will have fewer people in her life but she will be loved deeply and completely.
I cried my big, fat, ugly tears to my Constant, “This is not how families should be!” “No, it’s not,” he echoed simply, giving me the assurance I desperately needed.
I thought my family of origin and I had started a small bridge when we were all together in Vancouver for my father’s funeral. I thought we could start again – maybe uneasily, maybe uncertainly – but at least try. But we are back to where we were at. No one is willing to do the hard work. No one is willing to work on their half of the bridge.
My Constant’s family is not perfect but they aren’t dysfunctional. It’s the first time I’ve been a part of a normal family and I realize my expectations of what family should look like is very low. My Constant’s family don’t go camping with his ex-wife. They don’t exclude our baby. They don’t sit in continual judgement. My Constant’s mother calls me “his wife” even though we haven’t been able to make that official step yet due to bureaucracy and Covid lockdown. His father envelops me in huge hugs. They have photos of my Constant and me on their brag wall whereas on my mother’s wall still hangs the five year old photo of me, my ex, and our five kids. Seriously, my expectations are not exceptionally high.
I wonder if they realize that each of these moments is an assurance to me that I made the right choice in leaving that church, leaving that religion behind. Each time I realize it’s not religion and judgements that matter but relationships and justice that do. It’s not about law but about love. Always Love.
Today, I am a hot mess and I will be okay with that. I will sit in the awful emotions and allow them to be. Tomorrow will be better.
The storm always runs out of rain.
Darlene
no longer small 