Some days I listen to my preschooler and swear he is a reincarnated old soul. The things he says just stick with me. They make me really think, cause me to stop for a moment in the busy day-to-day of this life and actually reconsider some my own worldviews. There is something about reverting to the simplicity of a child’s perspective that is so refreshing, even enlightening.
For instance, when he was only two, I was having an especially stressful day managing divorce proceedings, applying for a Master’s program, and fielding phone calls after a full day’s work. I was exhausted, on the brink of completely giving up, surrendering in the midst of the chaos, and evidently, it showed. This innocent child had been observing my huffing and puffing at my dying, virus-ridden computer as I attempted to send over my transcripts while talking with my attorney, and he had really noticed me.
How many people really notice?
He noticed his mom was at her wit’s end, and at two years old, he slowly came over to me, placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Mom, don’t be so frustrated. I love you.”
What? I couldn’t believe it. I forgot what I was trying to do altogether. I know my son is smart – his doctors and daycare instructors have even made comments. But, I didn’t realize “frustrated” was part of his vocabulary at two. And, to be so empathetic at that age, especially a toddler boy. The only thing I could do as I looked into his big, blue eyes is cry and hold him, apologizing with guilt that he had actually noticed my frustration. Really noticed.
Then, one day, not long ago, we were waiting for the bell to ring at his sister’s school and he turned to me and said out of the blue, “Mom, I hate this day.” “What, why would you say that?” I asked him, taken aback. “Because I don’t get to spend much time with you. You know, mommy time,” he replied.
I’m sure I didn’t immediately respond. I normally don’t when he gets deep and empathetic because it never ceases to amaze me. Instead, I considered his words a moment. I had just picked him up from school, and there we were in the middle of a half hour or so window of “mommy time” before grabbing his sister, then two others from two different schools.
I hate this day. So direct, straightforward, so emotionally raw. These words, and my preschooler’s explanation, resonated with me. Mostly, because you know what? I hate many days for the very same reason. Of course, I generally don’t announce that I “hate” anything, and never just “my day”. Because that’s not socially acceptable for adults to do, is it? When someone asks how we’re doing, we respond “well” or “fine”. This doesn’t leave them in the vulnerable position.
It is what it is is a philosophy I’ve lived by for quite some time. My thirty-years-older, maybe wiser, maybe not, mindset – worn in, even broken by so many lessons learned the hard way – has jaded me, I suppose. Yet, our moments together are truly few and far between, because, well, life is overwhelming. And, I hate that. I wish we had more moments together. Every moment is precious.
A few days later, we were at a park – just the two of us again, in the half-hour window before heading to his sister’s school. “Mom, I love this day,” my son said, his eyes more telling than his words. Remembering the polar opposite statement just a few days prior, I smiled back. Really smiled. “Me too, buddy,” I said, realizing I meant it.
Ever since, I often find myself, in the course of the day-to-day drudgery internally muttering “I hate this day.” But, instead of dwelling in this negativity, I smile, because this is something honest my four-year-old taught me. He taught me to be emotionally honest. How beautiful is that?
My academic credentials, job history, life lessons, social position – all out the window. Who cares? I’ve learned more from my bright-eyed, beautiful preschooler. And, I also often tell him “I love this day” now, whenever we’re together.
My point is, as you heal and rediscover the sense of self that was lost to your abuser, dig deep to the core and don’t be afraid to be emotionally honest with yourself or with anyone else. Life doesn’t suddenly become rainbows and butterflies because we’re free. There are going to be highs and lows. There are going to be truths we wish we didn’t have to face, but we have to face them anyway.
One of the most difficult truths for victims to come to terms with in the aftermath of abuse is their own responsibility for engaging in a toxic situation. But, coming to terms with this is part of the healing process.
Sometimes you will hate this day. Sometimes you will love this day. Happiness is something to pursue, not wait for, and the choice is yours. Don’t stay frustrated. Love yourself in order to live fully.