The Making of a Mother

I was never angry with Zac for dying. I was never angry with God for taking him. I was and still am, so grateful that he was mine to start with.  My first born son, a beautiful unexpected gift. A miracle. 

Zac was the hardest thing I've ever done. I was challenged in a million different ways. It wasn't that I birthed and raised a son. No. Zac created and molded a mother. Zac made me ME. 

Consistently, from the moment I discovered I was pregnant I had to learn to be something more. It was no longer enough to skate by. It was time to stand up. For Zac. For myself. For what I believed was right and just. 

Zac taught me compassion for those who are different. He taught me patience. He taught me how to communicate. He taught me about what mattered, and what didn't. He taught me to be wrong. He taught me to fail and to fall but to get back up and keep trying. He taught me to fight and to win. 

But mostly he taught me how to love, without lines or limits. He taught me that you can be lost in the dark, and still love. He taught me that those society might call unworthy still long for love and are deserving. 

And then he died. And in dying he taught me how to speak my truth, how to set boundaries, how to hold safe space for myself. He taught me how to be sad and how to be angry and that both of those are okay. He taught me to forgive. He taught me how to be alone and how to connect with others. He taught me that you never really know someone. He taught me that being kind matters. He taught me holding on is okay, so is letting go. He taught me that what really matters is not the family you're born to but the family you create. 

Mostly he taught me that I matter. What I think and feel matters. Maybe not to you, maybe not to the world, but to him and to me. I do not have to play small, sit silent or pretend, ever again that I am unimportant or unworthy. I do not have to play nice so that people will like me. I don't have to swallow my truth for fear of making someone else uncomfortable.  

Perhaps it is selfish and self centered of me, but I always felt that Zac came to this world to be my teacher. Both in life and in death. I feel like he was born so that he could create me. I feel like he died so that he could continue to mold me. I am not sure which of those was more of a sacrifice for him, to walk this world or to leave it. But his sacrifice was not in vain. 

I am forever changed. I learned to love. I learned to grieve. I learned to be okay with not being okay.  I learned to laugh. I learned to cry. I learned to stand strong in my power and truth. I learned to have hard conversations. I also learned to hold safe space.  Mostly I learned to hold myself gently, with kindness and compassion 

I went into the deepest, darkest depths of despair and I survived. But I returned forever changed. Zac made me a mother. Then he made me strong. 

Wallowing in the Dark

I write a lot about the dark places. We all have them, hidden within. The things no one wants to walk about. Fear, anger hatred. Greed, envy, resentments.  Shame, sorrow and loss. We stuff them down. We deny they exist. We run from them.

We are afraid of the dark. Every one of us. We don't talk about it. We have been taught that the dark is best denied and avoided, at all costs.

Yet here I sit, alone in the dark once more.

I am determined to experience all life has to offer. I write about that too, loving and living fully, being present. Embracing the adventure. 

That had brought me here, to this moment. 

The worst that can possibly happen to me has happened.  I have lost one I loved more than life itself. I have been abandoned and betrayed. I have been hurt beyond what I ever imagined I could endure.

The darkness has descended. It surrounds me. I am in a bleak, lonely place, alone with my fear. I want to run. I want to hide. I want to scream, lash out, hurt others. Instead I sit in the dark.

In the deepest darkness I do not run. I do not scream. I do not hide. Because experiencing all life has to offer means sitting still with the dark. Right now, today, I have the opportunity to experience grief, fear, loneliness. I could deny myself that opportunity, run from it. Or I can embrace it.

So I sit in the dark. I explore my fears. I cry my tears. Every emotion is meant to be felt to the fullest. And so I feel them all. I feel the ache of loss. I feel the sorrow of grief.  I feel the anger of injustice.  I feel the fear of abandonment.  These are my demons. Instead of running, I sit with them. I make friends with them. I talk to them and about them.

In a world that is not okay, where awful things happen, I sit alone in the dark, willing to be present, to be still and to experience all life has to offer. Especially the darkness.

Un-becoming

Who are you?

Who do you want to be? 

Who will you become?

The unbecoming is a gift that we are all given. When the fabric of our lives is ripped apart, when we have lost everything, when we are alone in the dark and don't even know who we are anymore. That moment, when all seems lost, is a gift. 

It doesn't feel like it. It feels painful. We are broken wide open. It hurts. We don't know  which way to turn. Who are we in that moment? We have no idea. 

That is the gift. The unbecoming of everything we thought we were, the loss of our self. The gift is found in the void, in the emptiness, in the dark.

When we have lost our self, when we have been destroyed in the fires, when we have nothing left, that is when we are given the opportunity to rebuild ourselves and our lives. 

Who are you?

Who do you want to be?

Who are you becoming? 

That is the gift of unbecoming. Suddenly you have the ability to become.  You can't become without first unbecoming. Once you are empty, broken and lost, then you get to decide who you want to be. You get to decide what you want your life to look like.  You get to weigh out your priorities, explore your interests, and recreate yourself and your life. 

If you are brave, you can seize the gift of unbecoming and build something new and beautiful. Or you can let the unbecoming destroy you. 

The unbecoming is a gift, given freely to most of us, at some point in our lives. There are few who are bold and brave enough to unwrap the gift and seize the opportunity.  There are few that recognize the gift they have been given. There are few who can lose it all and rise again. That is the gift in the unbecoming. 

Who are you? 

Who do you want to be? 

Who are you becoming? 

Who are you?

Who are you?

Who are you when the curtain falls and the mask comes off?

Who are you when you have lost everything and you are standing alone as the storms rage around you?

Who are you when you are drowning in doubts and recriminations?

Who are you?

Who are you?

Who are you?

Who are you when you lie sleepless in the deepest black of the night?

Who are you then?

Who are you when you look in the mirror and all you see are flaws and failure?

Who are you, when you are beaten and broken and are unable to even stand?

Who are you?

Who do you want to be?

Who will you become?

I am a Phoenix 

rising from the ashes.

I am everything 

and nothing.

I am fear 

and I am love.

I am too much 

and still not quite enough.

I am broken 

and I am strong.

I am tears

 and I am laughter.

I am hope.

I am joy.

I am love.

I am power 

and yet still powerless.

I am faith 

and I am forgiveness.

I am rising.

I am becoming. 

I am learning, growing, healing.

I am this moment.

I am forever.

I am me and me is worthy.