It is enough

Dear mom,

Thougts of you come to me now like waves, rolling over my mind like the ocean does the sand. I see your face in my dreams, feel your hand on my shoulder as I sit and think. When I am alone you sometimes fill the space with your presence.

You don't like me to be lonely. You don't like me to be sad. The irony of this care now when you have been gone so many years is not lost on me. We share such a past.

You are at once my compass, and my example of who I don't want to be. Your mistakes haunt me.

But as I go further along this path of motherhood, I understand you so much more than I ever could. And as I battle my own demons of anxiety, I understand the struggles you must have gone through.

How lonely you must have been. I was right there, and you could not love me or hold me for fear of your madness breaking me.

I understand that now. You kept me at bay to save me. You held your love back, because with your love came your madness, and with that madness came destruction.

God. I get it mom. I get it.

For the first time in this life, I understand you. For the first time ever I can truly say that I have such pity for you. Because you tried to be normal. And you tried to be good. And you tried so hard not to wound me.

But your illness crept around the edges of your wall. And in the end the monster got us both.

I wish I could spend just one more day with you. A day in the sun. You and I. Talking about all of the things we never did. Saying all the things anger and madness kept us from saying.

I would tell you that I love you. I would tell you that you are not lost from me. I would tell you that I forgive you the scars. I forgive you the hurt. And that although I do not have many good memories of you, the ones I do have are enough.

They are enough.

And everything you tried to be, every effort you made to be more than your illness was not lost. It may have taken me 36 years to see the effort you made to be a good mother- but here it is.

I see it.

I remember you sitting and watching me sleep. Your tears were running down your face. I woke and looked at you. I was too tired to be scared, still half caught in my dreams. And you said I love you. Don't forget I love you. Never forget.

I know that was you talking. The you that got hidden and buried behind sickness and drink. I know that you pushed past that sickness so far you broke your own mind trying to be what I needed.

I would tell you that I look at my own daughter and see myself. I see the potential of what I could have been, unbroken and unscarred, and in a way it is as healing as it is damning. I see her face light up when I hold her, when I read to her. I see who I might have been had the weight of your illness not broken my spirit.

And that too is enough.

Because I can live through her. Through her careless days. I can live through her unburdened soul and heal a bit of myself as I mother her precious heart. I can give her what I wasn't given.

I can give her what I know, I know, you tried to give to me. I can do it for both of us.

You just couldn't. It was beyond you. And I forgive that.

Mom, I wish we had what others have. I wish I could call you. I wish you could see my babies. I wish beyond anything that I could look into your eyes and tell you all of these things.

I wish. I wish.

But wishes build nothing. So, I have this. Words on a page. Tears on my face. Love and forgiveness in my heart for the person who broke me.

And that, too, is enough.

We are enough. You and I together here and now. In what we can be.

And someday I will see you, and hug you. I will touch your face and cry. And in that day your eyes and mind will be uncaged. I will see who you are, without the bipolar monster staring back.

In that day you will love me. And I will love you.

Until then, this is enough. I am your daughter. With all of the weight and loss and hurt and love and pain that brings.

I am your daughter. I carry the memories. I carry the pain. I carry you, always.

Love,

Me

Call

I got into the car today, after loading Sammy up, going back inside 3 times for cups and snacks, and once to retrieve a lovey.

Can I get a holla from my mamas for the 8 trips back inside for stuff before getting to actually drive off? It's cardio right?

Anywho. Whenever I get still and quiet, my worries invade. All of everything that I have been super busy running away from sits in the passenger seat and decided to chat.

It began 2 minutes into my drive, as I was getting on the highway. Worry, worry. Uncertainty. Anxiety. Rushing of adrenaline. Tears. Hands gripping the wheel. Nausea.

I turned up KLOVE. I tried to redirect my mind. I tried talking to Sammy.

And then I hear it.

"Daughter, why don't you call my name?"

Clear as day.

"You are entitled to call my name. It is your birthright."

Honestly, I almost ran off the road. Because I rarely hear this clearly from my dear sweet Savior.

And my oh so eloquent response?

"Ummm well I don't want to bug you."

Ohmagoodness.

Really?

Really, Bella???

Yes really. That's what I said.

Anyway, let's move along shall we? Ahem.

So I opened my mouth and called on the name of Jesus. Nothing more. Just His name.

And I smiled. And was flooded with goodness.

It's kinda like the first bite of cake after dieting for years.

Delicious, lovely, wonderful, satisfying.

And I simply drove and spoke and talked. About it all. All of my hurts and worries and pain and....it simply turned into glory.

It turned into praise. It turned into worship. It turned into a song falling from my lips with tears from my eyes.

I sat at a stoplight and dried my eyes. And laughed.

And then again.

"Call on my name."

And I did.

"Now tell me why you don't believe I will help you."

Ouch.

But it's true. This is where I fall from my walk. I don't have a hard time wanting to be like Jesus. I don't have trouble with the commandments. I don't have a problem with giving.

I have a problem with believing I am WORTHY OF HIS LOVE.

This is where the cliff begins for me. Where thejumping off point becomes too high. And where I watch others soar from the ground.

It is in my own beliefs about myself.

And my own belief in the lies I have been told to keep me from loving God like I should.

And from trusting.

I am afraid. That as I am, I am not enough.

Oh I love Him. With a fierceness that I cannot explain. And I carry his love with me. And I give His love freely.

But my own worth just gets lost.

And if you don't believe in your worthiness to be loved by someone, how can they fully love you in return?

AND, AND, how painful it must be for Him to watch me struggle and not call for Him.

Because, people, let me tell you. He is REAL. He has SAVED ME. I would be lost if not for His love.

So it's time. To call for Him. To trust His word, that I am His. That I am HIS. That I am loved.

And that I am worthy of all of it.

Because half of any relationship is allowing the other half to care for YOU, to give to YOU, to love YOU. To be vulnerable. And to allow yourself to be deeply known.

And that includes asking for and accepting help.

Once again, God has shown me that I can go another step deeper into Him. That I can lean into His arms when I am lost, overwhelmed, or in need of shelter.

Jer 33:3......... "Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things..."

Jer 29:12........ "Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you."

Isa 65:24........ "It shall come to pass that before they call, I will answer, and while they are speaking I will hear."