The Weight of Emotions

My mother had a stroke recently, and the repercussions of this brain injury have rocked my world to the core, as our relationship has been turned upside down.  She is now the child.  I am now the parent.  Today is August 9^th and she is trying to argue with me that it’s Christmas Eve.  She can’t tell the nurse if  my students are big or small, but she tells her that she taught English as a Second Language for many years.  She’s shocked when I inform the nurse that she can speak Spanish.  “I can?” she asks me with a furrowed brow. Traumatic brain injuries are very tricky.

Seeing the deterioration of my mother has been an emotional trauma in itself.  If I could reflect how I feel on the inside on my outside, I’d look like I spent a few rounds in the ring with a prize winning boxing champ.  I feel like I got my emotional ass handed to me.  I spent the first two week hiding from my two-year-old every time I felt like crying.  I’d get her situated on the couch with a package of gummies and Netflix and then escape to the bathroom to fall apart for a few minutes, before sucking it up and going back out to pretend that everything is fine.  Everything is not fine.  Maybe it simply took time to come to that conclusion, but my attitude towards showing my emotions around my young daughter has definitely changed.

Two weeks ago I would have said the I just wanted her to see me be strong, to know that everything is okay, and that the world isn’t going to fall apart.  You want to know what I’ve learned in two weeks?  That yes, your world can fall apart, but at a rate in which you can pick up the pieces and put them back together again.  I’m her mom, and even though I’m recovering from my own trauma, I haven’t let her world fall apart. 

Emotions are a form of energy.  They are energy in motion, and they are not meant to stay stuck in us.  We have to acknowledge their presence, receive the message they are trying to deliver, feel the message, and then let it go.  So now, when I feel like crying, I do.  When she stares at me with toddler concern, I tell her the truth.  “Mommy feels sad right now, can I have a hug?” Sometimes she obliges and gives me a tender hug, and sometimes she seems unconcerned and indifferent to my sadness.  That’s okay, if she’s content then the kid is doing okay, and that's what matters most to me.  Don’t hide your emotions from your children.  Show them that you can be strong and vulnerable all at the same time.  They love you unconditionally and to them, you are the world, and sometimes the world can be a sad place to be in, but we all have the power to simply get through it.