The morning of

I woke up early this morning, and I wanted to have coffee here with all of you.  Last night, before falling asleep, I read this verse:

“Light arises in the darkness for the upright; He is gracious and compassionate and righteous.”  Psalm 112:4

Jamieson-Fausset-Brown (commentary) reference the word light in this verse as being figurative for relief, and that’s definitely how it read to my heart last night.

Before I was fully awake, before I’d even gotten out of bed, these phrases came to my barely conscious mind:  Expectations are premeditated resentments.  To do the same thing over and over, yet expect different results, is insanity.

Those are things I learned when I went through a co-dep twelve step recovery group.  I laid in bed thinking about what I knew and needed to remember again. 

So when I awoke early, I decided to focus on owning my choices, and on owning my day in a healthy way.  My oldest son offered to drive and escort me to hear his brother perform this afternoon.  It’s an hour away, so I’m thankful to relax and not have to drive, and for his good company.  I just made myself my usual eggs and coffee, and I’m thinking of you all.  I know I’m not the only one struggling. 

Yes, he seems to be in his full ever-shifting, passive aggressive glory, but I’m going to try hard to be healthy today.  I confess that I often have to really think out what a healthy person would think, do, or say. 

For instance, if I was not with him on the next Mother’s day to roll around (by the way, I’ve purposely made the d in day a small d every time I reference this holiday.  I guess I want to diminish its importance to me), should I plan ahead to do things, or wait to see if my kids approach me?  If I plan ahead, how far should I plan ahead?  In other words, how much time do you give kids without waiting around with expectations that could turn into resentments?  See?  A simple thing like that seems ridiculously unclear to me.

I plan to walk out and visit the newly planted flowers that I bought for my gift, and ended up having to help plant.  But I’m smiling right now, because I like the idea that I tucked them into their new beds to help them rise and shine and meet the sunshine. 

Lol and kind of eww… I can hear him behind me at the kitchen sink (I already did dishes this morning).  I’m not sure what he’s doing, and I don’t want to turn around and look, but I hear that woe-is-me sighing.  It feels unnerving and puts my stomach in a clench.  I can see that my healthy day is going to be a challenge, so you know I’ll be reporting back later!

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4 Responses to The morning of

  1. Exodus says:

    I believe that if we must wonder if our loved ones are going to celebrate us, then we know deep down that they are probably not going to! What would you do if you were planning a special dinner for your son or your husband? You would most likely make sure that the person was going to be around, right? You would either tell them that you were planning a special dinner and give them appropriate notice or you would find all sorts of creative ways to make sure that they would be present.
    I was taught to believe that by wanting or expecting someone to celebrate me on any given day, that I was a self centered person who cared nothing about others. This is why I married the selfish man that I did. Since it’s Mother’s Day…I think I’ll thank that woman for teaching me that I’m not worth the dirt I work in every day. Thanks mom, are you happy now, are you proud of me mother?

    Oh well….it’s been the worst mother’s day I’ve ever had.. I can add that to my book of (rotten) experiences and hope that next year will be as good as this one is bad.

    Here’s my gift to you PJ’s:

    Beannacht – A Blessing

    On the day when
    the weight deadens
    on your shoulders
    and you stumble,
    may the clay dance
    to balance you.

    And when your eyes
    freeze behind
    the grey window
    and the ghost of loss
    gets in to you,
    may a flock of colours,
    indigo, red, green,
    and azure blue
    come to awaken in you
    a meadow of delight.

    When the canvas frays
    in the currach of thought
    and a stain of ocean
    blackens beneath you,
    may there come across the waters
    a path of yellow moonlight
    to bring you safely home.

    May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
    may the clarity of light be yours,
    may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
    may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
    And so may a slow
    wind work these words
    of love around you,
    an invisible cloak
    to mind your life.

    From Anam Cara by John O’Donohue


  2. marsocmom says:

    I love that – expectations are premeditated resentments. The perfect Mother’s day for me would be to just leave the house and have a day all to myself. You could just announce a week or so ahead that you are going to invite everyone over for lunch so you can celebrate being a mother…and whoever can come is welcome. That way, you are in control and won’t have to worry about whether or not they will do something for you. And if nobody comes, we can go see a movie together. 🙂


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