This concept and or idea of there being many parts to us, that we have past versions of ourselves running around inside our hearts, mind, and souls; for me the little girls of my past, little Becky’s that were not honored or seen. The idea of playing as an adult is a bit foreign to me, like ‘how do I do that?’, what constitutes play, things that bring me joy? What is joy?
This idea has been swirling for quite some time, ever since an acupuncturist mentioned to me that I have a very bossy main little girl in my head that tells the other little girls that they cannot rest. At the time I was like ‘Me, bossy!?’ but it is true, I am a know-it-all, you heard it here first. I have found ways to play I guess, writing is fun to me, things to make me feel like a little girl again, roller skating, drawing too….ways to find….well that is the thing, I am not sure how to categorize it, it’s a feeling very deep inside, almost like satisfaction but also skating around the idea of happiness. Recently I woke in the middle of the night, I felt a pressure on my chest and some sensations heightened that were mild before and leading up to this, it was about 2 AM, and I wrote this:
“So close to something I don’t know that I’ve ever had. So how do I know I’m close? I feel something moving within me, I am being worked on. I can feel her telling me to let ghosts go, I can feel some belief be set, a new habit, a new opportunity – I am so close”
I often feel my mother’s presence – I brought home this basket ‘thing’ from their house, it’s like a pie, quiche, or cute holder of treats for a potluck – it’s a lazy too!! I was going to sell it, I don’t need it, it’s nice and it’s one less thing in that house to see clutter wise but something has been telling me to take care of it, so at first I just cleaned it and set it aside, and then I would pass by it and eventually thought ‘perhaps I will keep you for now’. I hear you, Mom. My restlessness, I will let you rest, read, be still, be quiet, calm. I see you, little girls, I hear you, I love you and let’s remember, and then let’s play:
I see you – crying in the basement, in the dark, in a corner – asking Grandpa to come to see me after he died. I was so mean to him the last time I saw him, I think about this a lot.
I see you – laying on the concrete back patio thinking about using Dad’s gun on me while staring up at the clouds and listening to the soothing sound of the pool cleaner I knick named Jaws.
I see you – every weekend: no rest – we always had chores, errands, a never-ending array of errands, and not much play, and in the summer, camping instead of any lazy, calm, and quiet time alone.
I see you – crying at my Grandmothers funeral, not because she died but because I could not sit next to my big brother; he and my Dad had to sit on opposite sides of my Mom to protect her from her own family – don’t worry, I will let those ghosts go Mom.
I see you – reframing, forgiving, moving on, letting go, being still but silly. I see all of you.
-B
