Today is heavy.
And I know the next while will be. I fall apart this time of year. I’m coming up to my moms anniversary of her death. I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it does. Right now I feel like there are so many directions I want to go. I am happy to be independent, I always have been. I don’t ask for help which can be a flaw, but it has made me strong and resilient. I have found peace in my decision. I am excited for all of the doors that are opening and the people I am meeting. I get daily texts and emails from women saying I am inspiring them….
But right now, things are heavy, empty. And for once, I know that’s ok. It’s ok to not feel ok. To breathe into that and feel it and sit with it. My daughter told me the other day that she will be sad for the rest of her life because her family didn’t turn out how it was supposed to. My son told me it’s his fault his beloved Louie died. My daughter told me it makes her sad that her mom and dad would never be in the same place with them again. My son told me he is sad that he has to move and leave his best friend. I don’t know what to say or do to comfort them. I let them cry in my arms and I hold them until they stop.
I struggle with the want to change my name back to my birth name. I don’t feel like a Bickle and I am sure they would prefer I wasn’t one. But my children are Bickles. But a wise friend pointed out, names are just letters, just different parts of our stories. I was born with one, and then I changed to another, but I am still me. My children started off not being able to call me anything, then it was momma, then mommy, then mom, all different names, but they all meant the same, it is the sentiment behind it. They know who I am, whichever name is used.
My brain is scattered right now. I want to be strong, but I also want a person. Someone that will put their arms around me and tell me it will be alright. That will tell me I am enough. That I can call to ask stupid questions that I need a second opinion on. Someone that wants to help carry my burden. Someone that gets me. I miss this, even though I never really had this. And I miss my mom. God, I miss my mom.
*This self portrait was taken in March of this year