I shamed Mr. Middle. Again. The distance between episodes is growing fatter (thank you teachers and guides), but the echoes of my voice and the pain it caused are still reverberating in my chest.
You drank all the almond milk??!
I only buy so much,
now I want my special treat,
and it’s GONE!!!
Who was this screeching?
The growing loneliness in my heart space that needed soothing?
The feelings of inadequacy rising just below my skin?
The charge from an earlier encounter?
The eating disorder that surfaced when I was about his age?
Luckily his father called me out on my outburst breaking me out of my trance. Thank you. (And fuck you too, I thought at the moment).
I softened. I returned. I used more words. I apologized.
Though it sucks, I know this endless cycle of failure, reflection and recovery builds my resiliency and capacity to be a better human, and I know that if I continue to play with presence and attention, maybe it will build that of my boys too.
A friend shared this Hawaiian poem, Ho’oponopono, with me just this week. I may tattoo it on my palm.
I am sorry.
Please forgive me.
Thank you.
I love you.