I am at work and Josie is sick, a litany that keeps going through my head over and over. We were up on the couch this morning from about two on, her hot little head pressed against my chest and my breasts leaking because she wasn’t eating and I needed her to, it felt like warm rain or tears. She is taken care of and loved, I don’t worry about that, but I should be with her, she should be with me. I feel torn, only not torn because I know what I need to do, know where I want to be. Misplaced loyalty, fear, guilt, and underneath it throbbing like my heart is that litany, Josie is sick and I am work. Work.
Control is hardly won when I remember I don’t have to control, don’t need to control, I need to accept. That’s it. When I do, as I have been trying to do since Josie was born, the answers come and I know that. I still try to regain control and think that I am not capable of doing what God wants me to do, which is to accept and allow him to open up doors. He has, He does, He will if I let go of control and trust. Walk through the fear instead of denying it, remembering what my friend J said yesterday when she said that it’s not courage unless there is also fear and she says I am one of the bravest people she knows.
It feels raw, all of this, too much love too close to the skin. My breasts are a metaphor, thinly veiled, for how powerful it all is, spilling out at the least provocation, filling me to overflowing, hurting.
**Thanks to Heather for this**