Fed up with myself, I snapped, “How badly do you want it then?!” Yelling at myself isn’t healthy or productive but the steam pressure needs release. So grown lady, who knows exactly what she wants and sees it clearly, why not board the buses and trains that roll up to your stop? Is it the foggy land in-between the origination and destination? She doesn’t trust it, it’s full of her worst fears and she can’t see the other side. Inner Saboteur, a.k.a. Little, objects forcefully.
This will be a recurring conversation. Makes sense, she’s 10-13 years old. Maybe a solid 12, still learning, an adolescent child. A child with a sharp tongue slashing rigging and cables before we take flight. It’s not her fault, she needs support. I sent Little to rehab with no communication privileges. But she finds a way, letters, message in a bottle, smoke signals, talking drums. She’s smart, determined.
Turns out I can’t lock her away. Her rehabilitation requires me to talk to and with her. I can’t ignore her needs as they were ignored when I lived her ages. I remember when life events weren’t explained to me. That cycle can’t continue with her. She starts a ruckus. An endless supply of mean-spirited backlash fever dreams. Her fervor exhausts me.
She is deeply afraid and believes she’s preparing me. We were raised to follow a stable, regimented path. Her doubt and fear of a different way holds us both back. I might be able to yell at grown me sometimes but Little me, she needs to talk. So girlie let’s talk. I know we had limited choices growing up. We were meant to learn and develop good habits. But some lessons made us withdraw. We’re grown now, at least I am, and I have to parent myself. Love the people who raised us, but even the best intentions can leave a mark.
I have to tell her everything I needed to hear and didn’t. We can do whatever we want and it’s aligned with a loving God. The supreme being isn’t judging our every move, she’s busy. We don’t need to be ashamed of our body. It does a lot of cool shit and learns more on a weekly basis. People are not laughing at us. We do not have to trudge through life every day. There is nothing to prove, our existence makes us worthy.
Why don’t you think a serendipitous life is possible? Every day doesn’t have to be deep breathing to regulate. We can cross the street. Society at large views suffering as a natural part of life or as achievement’s prerequisite but that’s not our portion. We are meant to enjoy living and sit in the physical and metaphorical sun. Life should not be hard and mentally taxing daily.
We’re unlearning decades of bullshit. This is the last time we reach wit’s end before we move. As soon as the joy recedes, we find the next, no waiting. We are gathering the tools to do better. Reading, pole, the 9-5, we get faster and quicker as we learn. Apply the same when a situation expires, move on and leave it behind. Little, we love to write and we’re good at it. That’s our way out. I’ve laid out the plan, let me act on it. It will work. I accept that Mother God is kind and generous and wants us to take a step so she can propel us forward. You can accept this too.
An assortment of losers run the country. We will not be the miserable loser who hangs back and hides. Be bold. That’s new for us. We have nothing to lose but an unfulfilling life. Yes, we’re introverted but that’s not an excuse to never ask for a chance. Nos are redirection, not gasoline doused rejection colliding with a lit match. We will not die.
We will keep going. We get everything we want. Every dream and desire is something we already have. Our job is to follow the coordinates and stand in the drop zone. Catch the care packages as they descend from the sky. We have the words, we’ve got this. We are safe. I promise to keep you safe.
Parenting My Inner Saboteur
