Another @#$% growth experience, as a friend of mine remarks. Except I’m not sure I’m actually growing.
There are two things, actually, that are on my mind right now. They’re sort of related and hard to talk about, so I play around in language and try to pretend to the issues that I’m not sneaking up on them at all. Avoidance is kind of like a lesser version of denial, maybe the caffeine-free diet Coke of the universe or something.
Right. So. The first thing: Syd has chosen to live mostly with his dad. Every other weekend, he will come here, but that’s all. He has rational reasons for this. He explains them cogently. My brain processes them and nods along, trying to ignore the screaming of my heart. What I really hear is: rejection rejection hate hate bad mommy run away leave hate hate hate rejection bad bad bad. The game face replies appropriately and lovingly and then I crawl away to die of stab wounds to the heart.
I’m a little stressed. Because I always try to follow the directions and turn in my work on time so I can get the teacher’s pat on the head, I have been going to yoga class to work on that. I am bad at yoga. In theory, this is fine. Yoga accepts me where I am and blah blah blah. In practice, I fail, over and over again. My body refuses to bend. I pretend that I am happy about the small progress, that I am pleased to have oiled up the joints even a little. It’s a lie. I am tired of trying to do things I am bad at. Which leads to the second thing.
Life is full of things I am bad at. I am not good at anything, except possibly reading to small children, which is hardly something to build a life on. I seem to have failed spectacularly at everything from parenting a teen to breathing to making a living. A phrase from high school floated into my head this morning: personality transplant. That’s what I need. I wonder if Kaiser covers that.