*Bad Mamma* – a book excerpt from Louise, one of the women we BACK!
Sundays are tricky.
Or they used to be.
It took me to ever for ever to figure that out. In the beginning I thought it was because the kids had been at my place for seven days and I was tired and they wouldn’t sleep and that is a great story.
One of many one could tell of Sunday nights.
My understanding of it is different now though.
This came to my attention on a Sunday night at 9:30 PM I was on the call that I really wanted to be on and so “of course” my kids for a bickering about how much light should be in the room, who was talking more, who started it, and that was being disruptive with the other one that was telling them to slow down and be quiet I was he in getting ear plugs and dripping saltwater in sore eyes, basically I was not able to be on the call at all and it lasted only an hour.
And I got super annoyed like, “okay I just needed to be in this call for an hour can you guys just shut up and go to sleep already I mean what’s the problem”. okay so I didn’t actually say that that’s how I felt. And I was so on my way into blaming them and being annoyed at them and going into the story of “I will never have what I want”. And when something is really important you sure as hell will show up and disappeared for me. I realise this is not a pretty-momma story. And I think for a while I had a story about not being a very great mum. It runs in the family. As the best stories do. I just took me a while to see how I was creating my story in my own life.
But then I remembered but a friend of mine Lucy said just a few days before “be mindful of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory”.
Because the truth of the matter is that I hated Sunday nights. I really hated them. And I was working really hard to not see why. Because Monday mornings my kids go to my ex-husband, and I won’t see them for a week. And really that is very painful to me. I miss them. A lot. But it’s just too painful to feel those feelings. So I unconsciously created a little drama Sunday nights and conflicts with them or between them so that I would get annoyed with them and protect myself from feeling the hurt and the longing, the sadness of missing them, the shame of being the one who filed for divorce, the one who created their life like this. That responsibility still feels pretty heavy on my shoulders. But I’m done. So done. Protecting myself from feeling the pain and losing out on how much I love them and how much it sucks on a Sunday night.
I am done blaming them for not getting what I want. Because it’s not true. And. I will get what I want. I will get what I need and they are not the ones who stand in my way. I am. Or. I was.
No more bad mamma stories.
I’m gonna allow myself to feel the hurt, the yearning, the love.
Because that’s all it really is, it’s love.
I love them so much it hurts.
And thats ok.