A page from my journal.
My quest to find my voice has been long. And big picture I just want the freedom to say what I want or need to say without offending, disrespecting, or hurting anyone. Seems doable.
I wish I could say that finding my voice has been easy. It’s been anything but. To be honest, I fight daily for my thoughts to pass from my head and heart across my lips, down through to my fingertips.
I hold back a lot, at times not as much as I should. Other times too much. But I’m trying. Trying to respect my daughter, while being true to myself. It’s not easy. I may implode.
There’s really nothing that needs to be said that hasn’t been said before. It’s just pain. We all experience it (and hopefully heal from it) in different ways, yet similarly.
Tonight the tears fall as I think about what it all means.
How to love and support and encourage my daughter from a distance, giving her the space she needs to fall down. And the privacy to decide if and when she wants to get back up on her feet again.
Oh, the patience this will require as she figures it out. The courage to start living my own authentic life. Caring for myself the way I would want her to care for herself.
Finding the strength to live a happy life. One that is not contingent upon my daughter’s happiness. That’s a tough one when all I want is for her to be happy. Safe.
I’m sure there are people out there right now who think they know me and what’s best. What I should or shouldn’t be doing to be a better mother to my daughter. Perhaps you think so. But how could you?
I want to protect her. It’s hard to do when the one person she needs protection from is herself.
Faith is all I have.