Monday, September 9, 2013

Feral (Self-Indulgent, Melodramatic)

What leathery sinew is this that stretches from behind my ribs all the way to my children?

(In my rational mind: they are fine.  They are happy.  They are with their father, and he loves them and cares for them.  He is a good father.)

In my animal self: I am pacing and whimpering.  I feel that cord pulling my heart out of me.

(Rational: this feeling is all about me.  It does them no good.)

Animal: I just want to be near them, would chew off my own leg.

(Rational:  It does them no good to show up at preschool and school crazy as a wolf  that's been penned indefinitely in a too-small cage and demand to hug them and sniff their heads.  This I must not do, will not do.)

Animal: [ So what do I do?]

(Rational: Swim faster.   Let the chlorine wash the animal off me, the churning water roar a silence to still my fretfulness.  Or, and: Write the internet for advice.)

1 comment:

  1. Live through the little years, I don't know how to make it better for those first six(? four? seven?and it's probably a different age depending on the child/parent). Be reassured when you see them again and they are well and have things to tell you. I hope you can find ways to meditate or be in time without watching the clock.
    Mine are 9 and almost 12 and I am dealing with the strangeness of getting some of my attention back for myself. What to do with it all?