As I sat in the cathedral and pray, I turned the ring, still silver after all these years, that rests on my middle finger. This ring was a gift, an offering of thanks, from a friend named Susan.
I met Susan during my pre-Covid life. I had traveled to Massachusetts to train a group of people in nature-based therapies. Some were teachers. Others were therapists. And others were artists. Susan was an artist.
I loved each of the people at that training. One of them was a guitarist for Bob Marley and toured the world with him, became a yoga teacher and might have been the coolest person I’ve ever met. Another dear one was a non-profit starter who worked in fair trade. Another, a doula. Another, the first teen to build and document her own tiny house experience on Youtube. It was a beautiful week filled with beautiful experiences.
…
At that moment, little did I know how much the word “Acceptance” would play a central role in my life during the next five years. When I was given the gift, I was well and feeling more alive and vibrant than I had felt since I was a freshman in college. It had been a long time since then. And I had done a lot of work to be able to arrive there, where I was, emotionally and physically. I was settled and happy.
But, in the coming years, every color and flavor of acceptance would be required of me. I’d lose my job. I’d lose most of my friends. I’d lose all of the connections I needed to survive financially. I’d lose an incomprehensible amount of money (that is now my debt to a bank). I’d lose my health. I’d lose my home. I’d lose my confidence in myself. I’d lose faith in my ability to choose a safe partner. I’d lose every single illusion that led me to believe that I had anything under wraps.
I lost everything except my children. And even then, winning them back after his manipulations was no simple task. I’ve worked very hard to show up for them, created a safe space, and allowed their anger to have a place to target…me, often.
Healing is hard.
Life is different now and I must accept that. I must accept that I may never regain what I have lost. I am powerless against the losses on many levels. It’s quite cyclical.
I lost my health. Thus, working more is impossible. Because of that, I lost my home. So, my girls and I live with my boyfriend. The loss of my home invited every kind of instability into my life, thus affecting my health more drastically. So, we are back at the beginning.
…
Acceptance.
With acceptance comes the realization that we can only do what is within our power. We can only change the few things within our grasp. And each day, those things may switch up as well. What I am capable of dealing with today might be very different than what I am capable of dealing with tomorrow. But, I won’t know until tomorrow. It’s a very simple life in some ways. But in some ways the dance of life feels like doing the electric slide to Bach concerto. It just doesn’t quite fit. And it’s pretty ugly.
Just “making do” with the situation isn’t pretty. Just surviving isn’t living. “Bloom where you are planted” is the phrase that comes to mind often. But, what if you are planted in a small town that’s trying really hard but remains toxic, no matter? What if there is no way out?
In the meantime, I planted flowers. A lot of flowers. I’m an advocate for trees and flowers. Some days, it’s all I can do.
Acceptance.
As I sat in the cathedral that day, I prayed for my son. He is Catholic. I am not. But I do this thing to feel closer to him, so somehow, somewhere he might know he is loved. That somehow he will keep his eye on his goals and reach them, against every odd that is thrown at him. That somehow he will not have to sit back and accept life as I have been forced to. That he will live fully and do the good in the world he wants to do. That his limitations will not hold him back. I pray hard.
As a mother, I’ve had to accept a lot. And one of the hardest things to accept has been watching my children leave to follow their dreams. I want nothing else for them, of course. But the pain it causes me is indescribable at times. Do they know how much I love them? Do they know that they are always in my heart and mind? All I can do is hope that they will never forget how much they have been loved.
As I sit and twirl the ring around my finger, I recall the day that I decided it would be okay to get pregnant after a near-death miscarriage. I remember well the feeling of the risk I would be taking, almost putting my life on the line. I remember accepting that risk so many years ago.
Acceptance.
That tiny human changed my life forever. He was the permission-granter I could not be for myself. His presence allowed me to stand my ground (on some topics) and make decisions that I knew were best for him. Then later, I would be able to do that for myself. I apparently needed a lot of practice first!
I accepted the challenge to be his mother. I have not loved every minute, but every minute was needed. I needed him as much as he needed me. I got too comfortable with having him close. But there is nothing more beautiful than a young life filled with possibilities. Nothing.
I will learn to accept my limitations. I will continue to love him and his sisters through it all. I still need them. But, over time I’ll see better how their presence in my life served its purpose. I know it has. I’m grateful.
And I think being grateful is the first step toward acceptance.
I’ll start there.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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