Tonight I’m not drinking tea while I write. It’s late, 11:22 PM according to my laptop, and while I type from my bed I’m listening to the sound of a load of laundry. Nope, not exactly calming and peaceful, I know. Just: noise. But, next to me on the nightstand is a glass of warm milk and honey. Does anyone else out there drink this? The taste is smooth, creamy, and sweet.
Kind of funny, but a little over 4 years ago before we moved into the Yellow Submarine, we were living in a one-bedroom apartment. I had to start over with everything, and during this time I had no microwave and no coffee maker. I was also scared to death of the neighborhood this apartment resided (read all about it in posts from my early 2011 archives), and so instead of drinks with caffeine, I switched to herbal tea and drinking warm milk and honey at night before bed to help me sleep. I heated up the milk in a pan on the stove. It felt nostalgic to do so, as if I was living like Laura Ingalls, had only I milked the cow myself. It became a comfort to me that I still go to from time to time. Tonight is one of those times.
The clock above my head is ticking loudly. Tick, tick, tick. Underneath this clock I have the word “LIVE”, a decorative decal with leafy vines around it, pressed against the wall. LIVE. LIVE. LIVE. Over the past several months since my daughter’s anxiety diagnosis I’ve been battling with this word. The life I had finally grown to accept, the way things were, changed so drastically that I felt as if I’d become trapped in a proverbial tornado of sorts–debris and chaos being flung around until finally the tornado left the area leaving only wreckage behind. Or so it seemed. Amongst the wreckage was hope. Hope of re-building. Hope for what would come out of the new creation.
And, rebuild we have been doing. My daughter is amazing. She is doing fantastic. Only 3 months into therapy he has moved mountains (literally: cognitive behavioral therapy is about making anxiety mountains go down and away). Her anxiety is virtually gone on the weekends now, and during the school week it is most prevalent in the morning, but even that is minimal compared to the beginning. I’ve been deemed “co-therapist” by our psychologist, and so we are only seeing her every other weekend. In between it is up to me to help my daughter stay on track with her tools and work on the anxiety issues at hand doing different practices to make them diminish. Having this new role added to the myriad of roles already on a single mom’s plate has been challenging.
But, it has been worth it to see my daughter grow, learn new coping skills, and become more confident. It has been worth it to stop and do my own reality check that life had become unmanageable with too many obligations outside of the necessary ones.
As I hear the tick, tick, tick of the clock and feel my eyes getting heavy, I know my heart is heavy also. I couldn’t keep up with this new role at hand if I kept trying to juggle my life as it was. Do you have trouble letting go? When it comes to my daughter, I let the reigns fly in a heartbeat….but, I also struggle internally with releasing things that I believe define who I am. Even though “things” actually don’t. Tasks and hobbies and trying to please everyone all of the time have nothing to do with who Kasey is as a human being. Life simplified, now I LIVE again: as a single working mom, as a co-therapist, as a woman who’ll do anything to make sure her daughter is safe and healthy, as a believer who is willing to see what doors this new path opens.
The taste of milk and honey is smooth, creamy, and sweet. It’s simple. I like that.
Hope y’all have been doing well, Readers! I’ve missed you and plan to be back to blogging regularly again. Stay tuned, be happy, and when everything else seems to be falling apart, give a chuckle!
Love and kindness,