A gentle return... not because I'm ready, but because it's time...
Imperfect rest, messy health, gnarly breath... it all counts... because sometimes it's all we have...
When I pressed pause on MOTHER NOURISH a few months ago, it was because I was navigating a time of deep personal loss. I’m yet in the thick of the grief… but the grief has gotten stickier, gnarlier… because a further cavalcade of family loss + critical illness has arrived into our lives.
I am always cautious of sharing my life’s intimacies in public realms… and would never break confidence with my beloveds… but suffice it to say… this has been the most challenging time of my 45-years on earth. It has been eight weeks of oft-times despair, grief, isolation, and deep, deep sadness.
And yet, it has only been eight weeks… it is yet fresh… and there have been, muddled in with the mess + tears + agony of it all, moments of magic, pure joy, gratitude, hope… and it’s those moments that are keeping me alive right now. That I cling to. Even when a day feels wholly hopeless, there is still a sunset, a butterfly; a taste of honey on the lips.
I pressed pause on MOTHER NOURISH to better care for others. And in so doing, the care I need – to keep me sane, whole, well, strong – faltered + faded. Others have needed my time + energy + love more acutely – for their own survival at times… and I will give it up, the blood that I bleed, if it will see them through the other side.
But… in that process… there is less of me left.
Today, the face in the mirror is drawn. There are dark shadows beneath my eyes. My skin is dry and tender. The eczema which is my lifelong companion – returning each + every time life asks too much of me – has returned and dapples my skin from neck to ankles. I am deeply, deeply tired. Tested. Tried. Stretched… I can feel my seams… the split ends + torn threads.
And yet… I am strong. Not so much in body right now… but in mettle; a molten core that doesn’t falter. I hold my children, still. I smile at their smiles. Laugh with their joy. I help them be + do what they need to be + do. I manage my workload… quietly, at home, in the gaps + cracks around caring for others, full-time, all of the time.
The truth is… with no parents, family, close friends around us now… if one of us falls, the other must not falter. And when two kids, a partner, and a pup – plus a full-time workload, a home, and the logistics of multiple, messy lives – rest on one set of slim shoulders… the inevitable will, eventually, come to pass.
So, here I am, today. Not the nourished mother envisioned, years ago, when I first put pen to paper… but something else entirely… a giver of nourishment, who, at times of trouble + trauma, is unable to access her own cup… there is not enough time, energy, love, to go round… and when a loved one is sinking, we don’t hesitate – we dive, right in, to the blackest waters… even if we can’t trust we’ll make it back up to the surface again.
Today… in the writing of this letter… I recognise how far I’ve erred from my own self. How little I’ve listened to my own needs. And any mother who is also a carer will understand that this is nothing but necessary at times… however much we may wish for it to be different.. however much we might hope & pray for the village to rise up and come to meet us, hold us, where we fall.
What I did today, however, for the first time in months, is return to the recordings I shared here, at MOTHER NOURISH, for just 15 minutes. This one here, to be specific:
I listened to it after a broken night’s sleep (because caring for someone doesn’t stop after the sun sets), and before the kids woke up… as a reminder to myself that good things are still accessible and available to me, even when life feels as messy, over-full, and challenging as it ever has. I can still take 15 minutes for myself. My Self.
And so the journey begins again… not from ‘the other side’ – where I come through, brighter, better, rested, clear, golden… and hope to share all of that goodness with you all – but from a place of absolute raw reality… the thick of it… which is what life is, after all – an unending ‘middle’ – when each moment presents a choice… and new beginnings might look more like a snatch of breath after an unending sob, rather than a gleaming page of a brand new journal…
One day at a time… is my mantra. One step, one choice, one day… at a time.
And each line is a line in the sand… enough, whispers the heart… turn back to your self… there is enough to go around (just)… be gentle… put the unnecessary things down… stay a little longer in bed… linger a little longer in the sunshine… dip a toe into the sea… it is all here, see… it hasn’t gone anywhere… life remains, even if your heart went elsewhere for a while… but you endure…
You are still here…. here, right here.
Take care. Give yourself grace. Be kind. Go slow. Choose to be gentle.
YOU will return.
You’ve already begun…
Healing isn’t always seismic.
Sometimes it’s just a sip of hot tea.
A salt bath.
The glister of sunlight through closed lids.
A belly laugh after a day-long sob.
Permission to love myself even when I feel empty, ugly, lost.
Recognition of how I need to love myself better now than ever before.
No one is saved if I am lost.
Losing myself reminds me that I’ve lost my way…
But I’m remembering again… the way back…
One tender step at a time…
Until next week,
Emine x
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Much much love to you Eminé. In the words of John O’Donohue, “be excessively gentle with yourself” xx
I wept at these words. Relating so much to this space your words are like a safe space to return to.
Sending so much love, Emine. x