This week I’ve had to work hard to fight back the tears. I wasn’t always successful, either.
It is hard not to cry when I think about how much I miss my boys and my home. Tonight is the only night there hasn’t ben a fight to keep it inside and I know it’s because I’m going home tomorrow. But every night this week, I could feel them sitting there, just waiting to pour down my face.
Monday little A. asked me if “today is Friday” because I told him the day before that I was coming home on Friday. “No, honey, it’s not Friday yet.”
“Okay Mommy. I Love you lots. I’ll talk to you later.”
Random pictures from my husband of the boys at the park, eating dinner, in the bath, etc.
A message from K asking me how the elective is going and me replying by saying, “it’s going okay, but I never imagined I would miss my boys this much.”
Tears, Tears, Tears.
A potluck lunch where someone brought their 14 month old son, who reminded me ever so much of little E.
Tears at Work.
I didn’t cry last week at all. Maybe it’s because not enough time had passed to really make me miss them enough to cry about it. I suspect, however, that may not be the only reason. It seems that suddenly, almost instantly after stopping my medications, I could feel so much more powerfully.
I thought at first that it was a mistake to have stopped the meds so abruptly. But I thought about it more and I figured that I have such a real and legitimate reason to be sad: This is the longest time, ever, that I have been away from my kids. I am not sad about anything else, and for the most part I am enjoying my time here on my elective.
I am allowed to be sad about missing my kids. I am allowed to fear that I am letting them down. I am allowed to cry when the emotions are too strong to keep inside.
Despite missing my boys intensely, I am happy to cry over it. I feel like crying means I care. Crying means I have love and attachment and emotion. Crying means that I am feeling everything I really should be feeling at a time like this.
I am happy to cry this week because it has helped me to realize that I have the capacity to feel. That is just one thing I seem to have lost over the past few months of being medicated.
- My Praise Is In My Tears (livefromtheheartofme.wordpress.com)
- The Crying Rock of Placerville (salmonfishingqueen.wordpress.com)
- So very many scars to exfoliate (theconscientious.wordpress.com)
- Crying at My Heart Strings (makeitasamommy.wordpress.com)
- Let’s play a game called “Did it make her cry?” (howtoruinatoddlersday.wordpress.com)