Monday, May 17, 2010





Silly me.

I thought

I was

done for

a while.

Often I write in my ambiguous poetry or I say what I can through my art. I leave little threads, hoping someone will pick them up and see.

Today I will be blunt.
My heart is shifting again and it hurts. In the past 4 days I have found myself in deep, hot tears, forced to my knees sobbing.
I am riddled with fear.
I fear that who and what I love will be taken from me. I fear I won't know what to do if I can't label myself as a mom. I fear I won't be able to find a job in a few weeks when I no longer have one.
Another round of growing and healing leaves me unfocused and disconnected. Lost.
Last summer I went through this...the first layer.
Autumn and winter were peaceful. I floated.
Now I am messy.

I surrender again and again.
I learn acceptance...again and again.
I have so much to learn!
I unravel and pray I am rewoven more gently, more humbly...more peacefully.

I know this won't be resolved with a solution.
I open to a Soul-ution.


  1. I'm so sorry. Do you have a child that is ill? Let me know how I can help.

  2. Oh, I didn't mean to alarm you in that way, Susan. I am sorry!!
    My daughter is healthy. We are simply coming to the end of the 'active' mom stage. She will be a senior next year. And I will always be a mom, it is just a bit wonky as I evolve out of that hands-on stage. I am letting go slowly.
    Thank you.
    You have been a good reminder of how important laughter and play are. Just keep holding that.

  3. Hey Jenny,my son is 21 now. And guess what... I'm still a Dad no matter what stage he's at ( or what stage I am at). It just takes on different forms now. But he still needs me! As parents we need to change through the changes with them. I actually found a new freedom after he left for university and actually sleep a lot better too.

  4. Once a mom, always a mom. Keep in touch with your daughter: talk so she wants to listen, listen so she wants to talk. You'll be okay.

    My son, 22, is in Africa the Peace Corps, and I haven't seen him since Sept. 2008. I'm still his dad and we talk almost weekly by appointment on his cell phone.

    Still each day I remind myself that I will be separated from everything I hold dear. That's a fact, but not necessarily a catastrophe.

    An unchanging unchangeable world would be much worse than this changing one, don't you think?

  5. jenny - one minute i'm struggling with my children growing older and the next i'm thrilled with who they are becoming. i feel the two pieces inside me as a distraction, a block to being healthy and whole in the way i relate to them. accepting the flow of all things is work but worthy work. especially when it comes to children. have a peaceful day. steven

  6. I am sincerely hoping for you - and praying earnestly for the soul-lution, so appropriately stated Jenny.

    Blessings & Love.

  7. Sorry you're going through all this right now. I'm feeling your pain...and crying some tears of my own. Letting go is hard, for sure! Hugs to you, Jenny.