Eventually, carrying around the weight of the world took its toll on my back. Apparently it has something to do with parentification, years of public service, a pandemic and perimenopause.

I don’t actually care what caused the pain. At this point, I just want it to stop, for all of us.

You’re hurting. I hear about it every day. You’re scared, angry, lonely, worried, hungry, grieving, tired. Each story is different but the unmet need is all the same. We long for the reassuring comfort of unconditional, endless love.

Just like most of us, too much heavy stuff was slung around my neck when my body, mind and soul were too little to handle it. I know you can relate because you tell me every day in a hundred different ways.

Some of us get actual scoliosis. We’re anxious, angry, sad, sociopathic, suicidal, schizophrenic, hypervigilent, neurotic…pick a label. They all mean the same thing. We were separated from love and left with fear.

In every fairy tale, the good and perfect mother dies, usually on the first page. Dumbo, Bambi, Cinderella, Rapunzel, The Little Mermaid, Peter Pan, Psycho…ok, so that last one wasn’t a fairy tale but Norman’s mom was dead and he was clearly on the struggle bus.

The point is, why do we expect human women to be these angelic, all wonderful, all giving, all nurturing, endless fountains of selfless, thankless devotion to their kids?

I’m not out here defending child abuse. But I am wondering, at what point do we become responsible for crawling out of the fetal position?

There’s no doubt, western capitalism doesn’t make it easy. We live in an oppressive caste system that pits us against ourselves and each other. Rich folks are raised by the help so the help don’t have the time or money to raise their own kids. Who do we go after? Half of us wage war on ourselves while the other half wage war on everybody else. Is it really rocket science?

Anyway. I wrote a book with some theories on all this. Threw in some big words about intergenerational trauma, healing and divine Providence. The fact is, I don’t know who, why or what anymore than you do.

Yes, our lives are all fucked in the wake of wounded parents so we mourn who we might’ve been if only we’d had x, why or See.

I’m not the answer. All I do know is, at some point, in one of these lifetimes, we finally decide to hike through the dark as unarmed, motherless children determined to make the screaming stop.

Sweet dreams pumpkin muffins.

Here’s a little lullaby to rock yourself to sleep:

It’s been a wild time since I left Bend. I told you eventually I’d have thoughts and feelings again. Slow processor. I dream about her every night. It’s not that I still want to live there, just that I miss the stability of familiar places. All the rest is haunted. I miss the river trail, lodgepole pines, the skyline, sky liners, sound bath yoga, bikes, lies, Whole Foods, nature’s, crossing Portland to mirror pond and the salmon at Newport market. I miss everything that never was, Bub’s ghost and Bennie’s bark. I miss Mochi and Momo, cafe Sinatra and that stale, cold toast, snippets from the hull, bubble tea, vanilla, The Old Mill, golden hour, Milk, Bond and Wall Streets. Sometimes I miss you. Sometimes I miss me.

6 thoughts on “Child’s Pose

  1. …were separated from love and left with fear”… or we left scarred that we prevent from healing because we’d have to admit life and everyone else has moved on without us and we had never had any control over any of that, but the scars… we’ll bravely pretend we do.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh yes. Beautiful memories are like old paintings of loved and wistful, subtle sweetness. Hey, I listened to Ben Howard a fair bit a few years ago. It was part of a favorite playlist that I used for writing. It was a hollow time for me. Sorry about your back. Maybe everyone has their own opinions. I have two suggestions. One is to tell your back that you still love it. Sounds strange. But every bit of us is a community. The other thought is something that I’ve discovered about lower back pain. It manifests from upper leg muscle tension. Use your thumbs. Dig deep into your upper thighs. Put some heat or cold (whatever works best) on your hamstrings. Finally, I hear you on the state of the world. There is a member of my band who broke down for no apparent reason other than some glitches during setup at our practice this week. I told him he’s welcome to feel that way. But he could choose to let it go and enjoy making music. He made a few tweaks and joined us, for the most part. It’s difficult seeing great people succumb to work, family, and world pressures. I hope you feel better!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Doesn’t sound strange at all. Love is good medicine. Thanks for the tips. I’m a fan of heat, accupressure, foam rolling and the Tens unit. Sleep and water help too.
      I hear you on your friend. Those minor glitches sometimes trigger stuff going under the surface. Compassionate acceptance helps us all keep making our music. Play on.

      Liked by 1 person

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