Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Dec 18, 2010

a 3 year-old and an ambulance.

post by dawn garcia | Labels: , , , , , , , , ,

First of all, forgive the run-on sentences, poor grammar, and possible chaos in this blog.

I know I said I was off but after an ambulance ride (by the way, nowhere near as cool as the ambulance scene in "About A Boy") and seeing my 3 year-old in traction, being surrounded by paramedics - well, I figured perhaps I had another blog left in me. Let me just say to anyone who ever doubts it, never underestimate how lucky you are to have someone beside you. Single parenting is by far one of the most challenging adventures of my life thus far but moreso because my heart is bigger than I ever imaged and she fills most of it up. This perfectly wonderful little one who makes everything extraordinary --- and knows precisely how to make me need to do relaxation breathing in those less than patient times. But today after a very hard fall in the Toy Story Mania 3D line, it was one of those moments. You see, in trauma, I tend to become eerily calm. It's like spooky zen. I don't have much to say (odd for me), I smile, I politely ask questions, I hold my baby's hand, hold her close, I breathe, and I just stay, well, calm. That's not to be confused with tranquil because THAT is not at all what's happening inside. Inside I'm a knot. I'm churning and wincing, and near vomit but I hide it all with an acceptable smile and a very mellow tone. I hold my baby's hand, I tell her a story, I remind her how brave she is, and then, once the ER doc tells us she's ok and I can take her home. I breathe. A little. And then I call her dad (ex-husband) to pick us up because my car is still at Disneyland. Good thing he and I are friendly.

So we get home, I pack her things because as it turns out this week is one of two she will get with just her dad this year. So they come here while I finish packing up her things, she plays like nothing has happened. I remind her that she needs to slow down or we'll end up back at the ER which now, because there were no "pokes" (i.e., shots), she actually thinks is kind of cool. Great. Now I need a new threat. Shoot! Anyway, she runs around, plays drums on every surface, all the while I'm packing up her favorite blankey and favorite "friend" and picking out the DVD's she'll take with her to daddy's. And then she hugs me tight and says, "ok mom, put me down" and she kisses me, reluctantly because in her mind, a week is 2 days, and off they go. Door closes. Churning increases, worry rears it's ugly head, and bottom lip starts quivering. Before you know it, I'm in fetal position on the bed sobbing because the thought of anything horrible or harmful happening to my little world *my child* is unbearable. Unbearable!

And then while I'm crying I realize my house is quiet. I can't call my family because they're pissed I didn't call 20 of them while in the ER, mad because a pic posted on Facebook, which in hindsight was probably stupid, but still. The realization that my family prefers to react in agitation or pointing out I didn't do something the "right" way sets in. Inside I'd like to tell them to piss off. But I just hit ignore and send a text saying, "maybe you can realize this wasn't about you and perhaps try a little something called understanding". This is when I realize how much it sucks to not have my mom. Granted she's been dead 20 years but sometimes, I think she was the only person blood related that understood me at all. Such is the life of a creative and intellectual person I think. Not to say they, my family, aren't smart, because they are, but they certainly aren't liberal in thought. In fact, and yes, here's where it explains some of my religious annoyance - my entire family (ok, wait, except Kev, you're in your own special sub-category) are right wing Christian Republicans and all of us have the issue of needing to be in control. (I know) However, we never agree agree on religion or politics and the scope of which we can talk about things is ever shrinking. Thankfully we talk of our children (and I am in love with my nieces and nephews) but in these moments, I'm not so sure we'll ever see eye to eye. Now let me clarify that I love my family and they have been there for me many times but last night I didn't need what happened. Of all nights, it just wasn't the night. I have to also say that while I complain about their views because to me, they are a little narrow minded, they have good hearts and I know they mean well, it just doesn't always turn out well. 

Anyway, my day was a little chaotic. Started out great, had a pretty intense drop, and now tomorrow I'm supposed to leave town to work on the one thing that will give us a better life, more opportunity, and give me some peace. I really need some peace. This is probably the most personal blog I'll post on here but sadly at this moment, it's easier talking to a blank blog post than those closest to me (family-wise I mean). I'm a big believer that we all screw up from time to time but today - today was NOT the day to vent to me about your issue with how I handled things. Because as a mom, I hate to say it, the only person that I HAVE to focus on and be concerned about is 3. And she's my baby and everyone else, like it or not, is secondary. It doesn't mean I don't care it just means you're not my first priority - or even my fifth. So, there it is. Do not make something that is happening within my little unit about you.

Ok. So now I wait as my little love sleeps at her dad's. I wait for the "check-in" texts to be sure that my baby has no signs of concussion or hematoma. No vomiting. No listlessness. No - anything on the 50 page handout they gave about things to do in the event of a head injury. And I cry here and there because that image of her in traction on a stiff blue board is haunting. Perhaps I should have prefaced this all with saying I am the ultimate mama bear. I will do anything for my little love. Anything. And yet this week, she's not with me and I have to trust her dad to take good care of her. When she's with me 80% of the time, that 20% is awfully quiet. And so I pack. Reluctantly. In hopes I can go on this trip. Because honestly, I feel like my limbs are cut off right now. A place to sit and think and write and be free sounds like heaven.

So that's the summation of my day and brief glimpse into my family tree (that appears to have some sort of strange bacteria festering on its branches). And now I go back to packing. Sadly I don't even know what I'm putting in the suitcase and yet somehow it's getting fuller. Amazing. Yes. I'm finally done. Off I go.

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Nov 23, 2010

love. apology. being grateful. and other things.

post by dawn garcia | Labels: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Today I had a therapy session and I just dug right into the pain. It's remarkable how deep that pain is, how far back it goes. And yet the one thing that resonates is only relative by looking at relationships.I've made some mistakes, I've overreacted, said things I wish I could take back, but what I wish is that the context was taken into account. It always takes two people. It is never entirely one person's fault. I have the tendancy to look at my "mistakes" and take on all of the burden. Fortunately, that's just not the way things are. Everything is a result of two (obviously there are exceptions). What I've learned is when I sit there in therapy, I talk about everyone else. How I feel badly about others, how I reacted or who has gotten hurt and finally, today, the therapist said, "Stop. Are you hearing yourself? You are only able to talk about others. How you could have made it better, how you could have done things differently. But not once have you talked about yourself. How all of this affects you." I bursted out in tears. Why? Because it was true. I spend so much time worrying about how my actions might have affected or hurt another, I never stopped to realize no one was taking that kind of time on me. Almost no one. One person gets the free pass here and that person knows. (Thanks, Jonesy).

In my 36 years, rarely has anyone actually tried protecting me. Tried protecting my feelings. And so as a natural consequence, I stopped protecting my feelings too. I experience a huge fear of loss because too many people I've loved have died or gone away. I blame myself, which is ridiculous because someone dying or leaving isn't in my control. Granted, I've left people too, and I'm not proud of that. I'm not proud of the hurt that I may have caused and god, if I could do it over with the knowledge I'm finally attaining, things would be very different. But they aren't. I just have to find a way to love myself again. This last relationship I was in - the one I'm having trouble letting go of - I remember the last big fight. After which, the internal self talk or "negative cognition" sounded something like this: I'm not worth it. I'm not enough. I'm unloved. I'm not beautiful. To which, my therapist replied: Now, say the exact opposite because you are worth it. You are enough. You are loved. You are beautiful. Which, of course, resulted in more tears. And then we went straight into EMDR. 

Yikes! Memories that flash before you, like, Wheel of Fortune (this is the example the therapist gives before starting light therapy). You watch a light, focus on a moment, a painful memory. Stop. Breathe in deeply, exhale deeply then you say the first thought that pops into your visual memory. It's amazing what comes out. Amazing. In the end, I felt better and then sad and then manageable and then happy and then angry and then hurt and then remorseful and then, then - a small amount of peace. 

So while my heart has a long way to go before it starts to feel whole again, I am grateful for the life that led me to here. This place in life where the storm is harsh, the road seems beaten, but then I look at the face of my child and she is proof I have done something extraordinary and good and beautiful. I am grateful to be a mother. I am grateful that I have given children love and acceptance and have given joy to some children that never had any. I actually remembered this one little boy I used to work with in Sunday School (yes, Sunday School, when I was more "religious"). I worked with children ages 6-10 and for some reason I knew I could be the teacher and maternal figure many of them were lacking. I thought about Robert. Robert was 7 at the time. Robert had a lot of emotional and psychological issues that kept him from fully enjoying life. After an "episode" his father had to make the painful decision to admit him into a child psychiatric hospital. I could see the pain in his dad's eyes but I saw a moment of joy come back when I would come and visit Robert at the hospital. I would make pictures with him and read stories and just talk. Sometimes I think that's what I was meant to do. Reminded me also of Riley. Riley was a little boy who would not respond to tutors because he had Autism, ticks, ADHD and ADD. I asked to give it a shot. I found that all Riley needed was some love and a little "silly". I bought him a copy of "Where the Sidewalk Ends" and sat there and read the poetry with him one tutoring session. His mom, Jan, was elated. It was the first time in her son's 8 years that he actually showed a focused interest in reading. Riley was a genius. As was Robert. Robert put his first computer together at the age of 3. Sometimes when one faculty is taken away, another one is given in its stead.

I am grateful for the gifts I've been given. I am grateful to be a mother. I am grateful I believed in you when you lost your house. I'm grateful I believed in you when you told me of your loss. I am grateful you took care of me when I couldn't. I am grateful I didn't give up. I am grateful I won't lose hope. I am grateful for the party I threw at the Tiki Room (PDC). I am grateful I needed Skin Medica (Bestie). I am grateful for Calvary (Tanta). I a grateful for FB (Jess). I am grateful you looked through your window. I am grateful to have forgotten one last box. I am grateful you told me of your struggles. I am grateful for being strong. I am hoping to be a better friend. I am hoping to believe in love. I am hoping to be the best example of loving, because my baby deserves that. It takes a lot to admit you've been wrong, but it takes even more to recognize the beauty within yourself. I'm not pointless. Neither are you. Neither are any of us. But if we don't stop beating ourselves up and start healing what we can heal, it doesn't matter. I'm not without hope. I believe I'm worth a second chance. I believe I'm NOT worth losing faith in. That's not easy to say. To those of you who continue to see past the mistakes and love me anyway, I am SO grateful for you. You are extraordinary and in case I don't say it enough, you are my gifts. Harold, Yvette, Linnea, Trista, Shana, Lakeia, Jesse, Anthony, Karsten, Mr. Jones, Mayumi, Tama, Maxime, David, Liz, LoLo --- thank you for the continual love, encouragement, and reminder that I've done a lot of "right" in my life. You are shining examples of that.

Happy Thanksgiving...
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