I was walking in circles in the pool while crying. I was mad, and I was sad, and I had taken myself out to the pool to force myself to slow down and feel all of my feelings connected to the situation earlier that day. I have always found water calming and an easy way to release my emotions and I have always found physical movement an easy way to connect with the way that my emotions feel inside of my body. 

We bobbed in the ocean laughing about the seaweed and the kids playing on the shore. I truly cherished moments like this. Moments where I was present, with nothing but my kids on my mind. I craved time at the ocean with my children, with nowhere else to be and nothing else to do. Moments where he got all of me, and I got all of him.

We were sitting at a dining room table, and I was playing, which is authentic for me. He didn’t know how to engage with my form of play and seemed confused by it. The majority of the adults in his life were serious and “professional,” and I was far from that.

I kicked the ball, and it was the perfect pass. I began to celebrate and then my body responded in a way that I didn’t expect. I stood still, confused. Why was my body responding like this? Why was I leaning away and making myself small? Why was my body protecting itself? Why were my arms crossed across my chest like a wall of safety? What was happening? 

I was standing in line behind her, and I listened to her apologize multiple times to the cashier. She was apologizing for having so many groceries. While her cart was full, it wasn’t that full. I was lost in thought about how funny humans can be. Why do we apologize for things that don’t need an apology?

Then, my thoughts shifted to how many times people had offered to help or support me, and I had turned them down or told them that I would let them know if I could think of how they could help. How many people I had denied the ability to express their love and support to me.

I smiled when I saw her. She didn’t even come close to fitting on the basket of the climbing structure, she was trying to squeeze herself into something that she had long ago outgrown. I stood looking at her. I understood the urge. She knew the climbing structure well and she loved it.

All of a sudden, I realized that my hands were moving. I looked down at them and couldn’t help but laugh. My hands were shaking “no”. I pointed it out to them. “Can you see what my hands are doing?” I asked.

I finally decided that I would take some time and space to see why I was so frantically cleaning. I paused, I sat on my couch, crossed my legs, closed my eyes and drifted into meditation. A lump formed in the back of my throat the second that I stopped moving and sat in meditation. I swallowed hard and brought my awareness to my sensation in my throat.

I allowed myself to experience the emotion and sensation of feeling used. And, then, I asked myself how I was responsible for that. What part did I play in this scenario? What accountability did I hold? What did I own here?