This week was one of those weeks that I wish I could just discreetly erase from my mental hard drive. Wallowing in my own self pity, about this life, this family, these poor children. It wasn’t good.
I work very hard to keep positivism in the front of my mind. Hope is all we have sometimes, but it can be enough. Should be enough. Coping skills are needed in my world, strong ones, those made of steel — tools that anyone with a hard lot in life keeps in their quiver because you’d not survive otherwise.
But this week I had no coping skills.
Where did they go? Stolen away by tiny soul sucking events that didn’t seem at all tiny at the time.
I do not kid myself…everyone has their cross to bear, and many families have it harder than we do. I know this.
Sometimes in this journey of being my best self, I stumble. Hard and fast, I find myself face down on the ground. I had been skipping along so brightly and so skillfully -- what happened? Where exactly did I misplace my coping skills? I swear they were there when all those other hard times happened. They must be here somewhere...
When times get tough as moms, we so often have to just "decide" to do something, to feel something. We don't always have the luxury of wallowing, at least not for long. If I have a pity party, it will only last about 5 minutes before I'm asked for a cracker or a hug or a pony. We definitely don't have the luxury of waiting around until things get better before we get happier. Or before we get healthier. We are warriors, we are mothers, and we do what we have to do.
Is it healthy? As long as we truly decide to move on, and don't hold it in, yes I think it is healthy. Deciding to heal, deciding to let go. It keeps our souls cleaned out.
So today, as the sky cleared ever so slightly and I saw the sun for a few short moments, and even now as I sit and watch the sunset. The hope has returned. I’ve decided to cope. I’ve decided to renew my soul. I’ve decided to have hope.