I was straight up sobbing, but without the tears rolling down my cheeks, kind of sob. It looked more like the body cry where your shoulders are heave hoeing up and down uncontrollably like you’re dancing a jig. Yeah, that one.
I’m standing on the bathroom rug, trying to hide my face in the crease of my elbow as I endured, with gray medical gloves on and a plugged nose, trying to clean up an accident my dad just had – right before we were to walk out the door to take my little babe to school.
The difference in this physical weep was that I had never let out a soul cry like that in regards to my father and the journey we’ve been on with his dementia.
Sure — I’ve been frustrated and depleted.
Absolutely – I’ve wiped away the tears when I need to hit my “tap out” button.
You bet — I’ve vented and asked, “Why me?” a few dozen fucking times.
But, when I’m cleaning him up after it looks like a giant Hershey’s Kiss blew up in the bathroom – no, I hadn’t really felt that sort of emotional outcry before. It was just something I did.
I was cursing my life in that moment and the many moments after as we finally drove to school.
And I was allowing myself to feel every bloody emotion that was trying to erupt in my Being.
I loved that I was actually allowing myself to feel what I’m feeling, instead of stuffing them away like a bunch of plastic grocery bags underneath the sink. Because denying my feelings and trying to push them away and act like a robot, were a few things I “prided” myself on for a long time in life.
As I entered the front door when we returned home – I felt lighter – not “cured” (whatever the hell that really means) but like I had taken off a couple layers of clothes that were weighing me down during the hot summer.
And then the epiphany hit me as I was listening to Elizabeth DiAlto’s Podcast: Untame the Wild Soul Woman with her guest Margaret Nichols, as they were discussing how often times we forget that the moment we’re in right now is perfect just the way it is.
The conversation they were having was so rich with insight for myself and what I needed to hear in that exact moment – I soon realized I was sliding down the slippery mountain of non-acceptance in my life…again.
I’ve ping ponged back and forth with acceptance of where my life is at various times before, especially the last few years as I’ve taken on a larger role as caregiver and stay-at-home-mom (not two “titles” I thought I’d ever have to this degree, but two I’m damn proud to have now.)
You see, I thought I’d be on Oprah by now, laughing out loud with her on Super Soul Sunday as we sipped our Chai Tea’s.
I thought I’d be 3-5 years in with this whole entrepreneur thing, vacationing in exotic places and retiring my husband.
I thought I’d have my own talk show and be living it up on air five days a week.
My life is a literal shit show sometimes – I clean up my dad and his accidents because I know I’d regret NOT taking care of him when it’s all said and done – rather than traipsing around the world with a microphone.
I chauffer, entertain, bicker, pull my hair out in frustration, cuddle, read Junie B. Jones books and literally breathe in my spunky, little daughter more than I sit in front of my computer and write because I get to at this stage in my life.
What if I allowed this moment to be my medicine?
What if I drank from the cup of life and soaked in each moment?
What if I had faith and trusted I’m exactly where I’m meant to be?
What if this is all part of the big dreams I have?
What if it’s all working FOR me, not against me?
What if acceptance of the present moment actually throttles us closer to the other tugs in our soul?
Love + Learning To Love My Shit Show,