Theres Something About Mothers Day

I wrote a Mothers Day essay last year and if haven’t read it then maybe do that now because you’ll have a better understanding of what I write here today.

That’s here.

Read it? Okay great.

I was sitting in the back seat of a friends car the other day after picking Celest up from school when Mother’s Day came into the conversation. I got uneasy real fast. I sat there remembering when I wrote about how Mother’s Day was hard for me. Friends were reading then private messaging me letting me know they were thinking of me. I was not left out in the cold, people met me right there in the hurt and pain. Brutifal.

Celest took out the heavy binder she carries in her backpack to get some papers she had quickly drawn up for Mothers day and I sat there anticipating, teetering on the edges of despair and joy. She had a paper with a big heart smack dab in the middle of it with the words Happy Mothers Day written across it then at the bottom it said “To mom- From Celest”. I was hanging from the edge of despair trying to talk myself into feeling okay some damn how. It must have all shown on my face because she handed me some lose papers with hearts drawn on them except I laughed and told her that she had put “To Alison” at the bottom. Life can break your heart a thousand ways to Sunday a wise prophet once said or maybe that was Bradley cooper in the Silver Linings movie, whatever. As I felt myself getting into a bad mood I focused on the joy that being able to mother this child sitting beside me has brought to me. I focused on my breathing and the scenery just outside the window in hopes of settling down.

Earlier that day I had gotten into an argument just like I’ve done many times before with my mother. We have a very complicated relationship, her and I, that’s been strained and stretched by the chaos of life. Its been a couple years now where Mothers day is not only difficult because of my reasons with Celest but because the relationship with my mother has mostly been artificially forced. The shame that comes along with not wanting to celebrate her is real and very much alive. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, I do, and think shes an amazing woman but due to the intense situations life has put us through theres just not much left to uphold. We are only human and am grateful for what we do have but still I have the strong urge to hide under my blankets until all the commotion passes. Stuffing my face with pie sounds quite appealing too.

A couple minutes passed and Celest tapped me on the shoulder to show me another picture she had just drawn to give to mom. I smiled seeing that all that time we spent practicing her handwriting has paid off. Happy with my acknowledgment she continued drawing. When she finished she ripped out the paper then handed it to my mom. She then turned to me and asked me if I would like one and how could I turn those big dark brown eyes down. I drifted towards the window again when a little while later a paper was shoved into my hand. It was a big heart with an arrow through it. I turned to her and asked her why she hadn't written Happy Mother’s Day on it and she said "Oh" so nonchalantly I didn't know whether to burst into tears or rip all my eye lashes off. She scribbled some words down, smiled then handed it back to me. Oh my, your heart would explode just as mine did by reading what she wrote at the bottom of that page.

At the bottom of the page were the words “Happy Nani Day!” I smiled really big and looked at Celest with gratitude. That little rascal knew I was happy with her gift and just like a lot of kids her age would she shrugged her shoulders smirked really big and with an elongated whaaaat made my heart soar. I have been trying so hard for so long to find an opening that would bring me to a place of peace with all of this and I've finally been gifted with it. I don’t need to be wished Happy Mother’s Day by Celest because I have my own damn day. Celest may not call me mom but she knows that I’m nothing short of it. I have made such an impact in her life that when I tell her to write Happy Mother’s Day she writes Happy Nani Day because she feels I deserve my own day. How heart breakingly beautiful is that.

So even though for the past couple of days I have been avoiding facebook with its piles of mother’s day posts and even though my own mother and I have a complicated relationship I will not hide under my blankets this time. I will feel it all. I will feel the hurt of my life and those of my friends.  I will hold space for all the mothers who've lost a child, who've never been recognized and with the sons and daughters who have to crawl through today missing their moms and those who feel shame because of their lack of urge to celebrate. Hurt and gratitude are going to be snuggled up next to each other today. Pain and beauty are married to each other forever walking hand in hand.

I have yet to meet a woman who has not mothered someone. We are all tenderly and fiercely mothering our people and its so freaking beautiful. Each one of us with our own brutifal stories, I am with you, remembering you, feeling with you. Standing with soft strength at the shore letting the waves bring in hurt while simultaneously soothing it away. I may stuff my face today with lots and lots of food all the while thinking of the beautiful mothers dreading and celebrating today. You’ll find me snuggling next to hurt and gratitude. 

PS. About the picture, it was just a stamp. One day maybe. 

Take Me To Where I Heal

When I get too far gone,

and I shield my face from yours

and my ability to hold back tears disappears

lead me to the ocean,

show me how Mother Nature lets her water flow freely

and the day my insecurities get the best of me

take me to a top of a hill,

the wind will flow right through the spaces of me

and curve itself around the rest

reminding me of my wings and the freedom I posses

this is when I will begin to feel as a part of the universe once again

frustration will overwhelm me

and peace will leave me

and so when it does 

lay me down in a soft spot

I'll look up to the trees and see their shapes

remembering how through winds and rains they still grow,
 survive, and continue still to the next day

some are bent and some crooked

remembering how I can live like they do

bent or crooked

 withstanding the winds and rain

take me to where I heal 

and help me to remember

I am the universe bundled up in skin and birthmarks

take me to where I heal

so that I may see my scars in a different light

take me to where I heal

so that I may find hope again

That One Time At Church

You wake up at 6:30 in the morning and lay there looking outside through the small corner that the cardboard on the window doesn't cover. You rub your sore back remembering the routine each night. The many times you twist and turn and readjust your pillows to a position that will give your back and neck the least bit of discomfort. You remember how you lay and wait until that moment of defeat creeps in; when the exhaustion becomes stronger than you and you drift off. Your dogs now knowing you’re awake come to the front of the car where you lay to greet you good morning just to then crawl their way into your blanket to get warm again. Your body resists the coming moments of beginning the day but your bladder is screaming at you otherwise. Everyone is awake now and the process of folding blankets and stuffing pillows into a corner begins. You drive to a park nearby where plenty of other people just waking up without homes go as well. You walk rapidly to the restrooms to release. You then begin the search for an outfit with the small amount of wrinkly clothes you have stuffed into a bag. You’re tired but the suns shining and the breeze is soft and cool so you look up to the trees then keep going. When you are all done eating cereal and getting dressed you all hop into the car and drive. And so then the day begins.

This past Sunday, I went to church, even though I had already given myself permission all week before hand not to go to but for some odd reason I woke up with this tickle inside me that kept on nudging me into the direction of church. I walked in and stood in the back as per usual. The toddlers scurrying towards the snacks then to and away from their loved ones while the bigger kids paint and color. Then as the worship band began there it was. I felt as if my heart had been replaced with a 40 pound brick. OH, I thought to myself this is the same heaviness poets write about. It’s not as if I've never felt it before it’s just that this time around it was much different. I had felt this deep, sad, heaviness and instead of feeling like I was drowning a strange thing happened; I felt peace releasing itself into my veins. I don’t know how sadness or pain happens to you but mine doesn't usually come conjoined at the hip with peace. After it all maybe sure but never with it. I felt so still and safe inside myself; inside the chaos, the sadness, pain and disappointment. I stood in confusion and great fear for the rest of the service. A few friends came up to me before, during and after service each of them with their kind eyes and gentle smiles. Each one insisting they just wanted to see and hug me. One after another as if taking turns they’d come to me and deliver to me love. Each and every time reminding me why I believe in friendship so fiercely. Reminding me why when I leave I always come back; for the snacks, of course. I don’t think I could ever tire of those people and their gorgeous smiles coming to hug me. I don’t know why or how I came to feel this stillness in the middle of chaos but it’s one of those great beautiful mysteries I’m just going to let the universe have; right alongside Beyoncé and pie.

Perhaps that was the divine itself giving me a hug or maybe it was me losing my basket of sanity muffins, I don’t know. I do know is that when the lyric came on screen about waiting for God to come rescue me I did not sing along. I stood there by myself in snotty silent protest. I remember a time I did believe in a rescue of sorts but then I woke up to the reality of being in the same spot. I don’t believe that God wants us to believe that we aren't strong or brave or bad-ass enough to get through really tough times. The days of believing in being rescued are long gone for me. I believe in my friends and their friendship being the stitches that hold me together when I can’t stop falling apart, that’s Gods will to me. I believe in rising up to the fear we tinker with and then no longer letting it control you, that’s Gods will to me. I believe in myself and my ability to get through some really overwhelmingly difficult crap. That God knows I can rescue myself time and time again from the pit holes of life. I believe God is betting on me, on us because he knows just how much shit we can go through and come out of, alive and well.

I'm tired and I'm ready to give up. Yeah, it doesn't get much realer than that. Earlier this week I had a long moment in which I considered giving up. I thought what if this is it?? What if it never works out or gets better?? What if my efforts will never be enough?? What if all our hopes of things like SSI for my mom and Celest don't work out and what if I can't get past all my fear from past traumas. What if I get a quick job and end up going into deep depression again?? So many what ifs and all I could think was yeah I'm ready to give up, I'm ready to give in, to surrender, to admit that I've been defeated. I even stared at a beer bottle a second too long and it terrified the crap out of me. This wasn't who I was. I don't run from things and surely do not give up because its gotten too hard. Its gotten to that point where I've honestly considered giving in. I remember thinking to myself "HOLY SHIT! I'm losing my grip. I'm losing my grip on hope." Hopelessness could easily be a couple steps to my left but I wouldn't know that because the lines are all blurred. I am walking by faith believing that a creative solution is out there waiting for me to discover it to get us out of this. I'm stumbling my way along. Finding my way through the fog all while fighting quite fiercely the urge to give up, to give in. Because this will not be the end. This will not be what becomes of my story.

Friendship is my most treasured possession. It is the best way for me to describe the divine here on earth. Even though I love to be by myself I am so obsessed with connecting  and being with my people. That is what makes me shake off the thoughts of giving up. Sometimes friendship is what saves me. Its what opens my hand and allows me get a better grip on this hope thing.

That peace I felt streaming through my veins was just what I needed. It reminded me that I GOT THIS. I am doing just fine. Peace is not as far away from me as it can sometimes feel. Its right here, flowing inside my veins. Pumping itself through that beating heart of mine. I GOT THIS. God knows that, in fact she sends me my friends to remind me of it.

“You are meant to fight. When you are sick, your body fights for its right to function. When you hold your breath, your body fights for its right to breathe. There are billions of tiny events—from the surface of your skin, down to the very cells of your body—that have to happen in order for you to be simply sitting here today. If your most minuscule parts haven’t given up yet, why should you?”
--N.T.

“...and then I remembered this basic religious principle that God isn't there to take away our suffering or our pain but to fill it with his or her presence...”--Anne Lamott

Heart Bursts.

Life is hard and sometimes it just gets too hard and before you know it your sadness outshines the rest of you. You talk, laugh, make sarcastic comments. You engage but still somethings amiss. Thats real. Thats the truth, sometimes. But every now and again something incredible happens and you feel so much you feel like you've bursted on the inside. As if you're heart cannot contain it so it overflows. When it happens you awaken and realize that not only are you engaged but your soul is as well. And if you're anything like me you'll begin to make these half kidding half serious weird crying faces. You'll put a hand over your heart and feel a rich goodness seeping into your pores. A moment like that just happened and I felt the need to share.

I was getting into my car after the school bell rang and I left Celest to line up with her class. I sat down and as per usual my two pups were overjoyed with my return. I had just noticed a bottle of lotion spilling so I got frustrated but then i heard a knock on my window. I turned and it was a father I see everyone morning. Oh hello. He raised a plastic bag and I opened my door to see what was happening because at this point I was very confused. He handed me the bag, smiled then told me in Spanish it was for the dogs. I thanked him not knowing what exactly I was grateful for and closed the door. My mom came in just as I was about to look inside when i told her what happened. We looked inside to find a brand new toy and bowl set. My mom found the receipt inside. I sat in confusion trying to process. Then it hit me like a lightning bolt jolting my body. He knows. He knew I kept telling myself. He knows our situation and instead of making judgement or making himself feel like a super good person, even though thats all the makings of a decent human being. He felt empathy so in turn felt compelled to do something. To do what he could. Because one of the things I've learned is that most of the time people just give what they have. I'm no longer concerned with the rest.

They give what they have.
Thats beautiful.
That is all, carry on.