Be careful

Be careful

An excerpt from my book, I am you.

Be Careful

When I was twenty-seven(ish) years old, I had a breakdown. I became intimately acquainted with the inside of my closet. And the floor of my bedroom. I learned what it meant to be paralyzed for hours at a time while my three young children existed outside my bedroom, doing the things kids do.

I would watch with numbness as my husband at the time would walk in, ask what was wrong, wait for me not to answer and then walk back out.

When I wasn’t inside my closet paralyzed with despair, I sat on the couch watching PBS Kids programming all day long while the small humans played with their toys, seemingly unaware of mom’s catatonic behavior. I took breaks to make sure the kids ate something and changed diapers.

One day, I stopped putting dishes away and crumbled to the floor, sobbing because I was too tired to finish putting the butter knife in the drawer. My husband yelled at me to go take a nap if I needed a nap.

I didn’t need a nap. I needed some fucking compassion and consistent help raising three kids under the age of five. I needed my brain rewired from the inside out. I needed to feel valid and seen and appreciated as a human being. I needed someone, anyone, to give me a goddamn hug and tell me I was ok, without also including a lecture on how to solve my life’s issues by trusting Jesus more.

I would drive over bridges and wonder if I should just drive off one. Something kept me from ever doing it really, but I was totally down with why anyone would. I get you. I feel you. The despair is soul crushing. Anything to make it stop. Anything.

Eventually my meds started to work. I started to climb out of the despair. And then my husband lost his job. And then, I had two miscarriages, unplanned pregnancies, within 2 ½ months of each other. One right after the other. Complete with surgeries to suck all the things out of my uterus.

The doctor told my sister in the waiting room, after she asked why this was happening to me, “Maybe she should be more careful.”

I was always careful. So careful. With birth control, with life, with myself. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t fuck shit up. Don’t upset your husband. Don’t let anyone hear your honesty. Keep your legs closed. Ladies don’t sit like that.

Make sure your house is clean when he gets home from work. Make sure your kids behave in Sunday School so we don’t look like bad parents. Make sure you pray enough, read your Bible every day, mean it with all your heart, and for God’s sake, don’t dress in a way to make men stumble into sexual sin.

Be careful.

You cannot contain the life force like this. You invite all kinds of madness and insanity and pain when you do.

Stop being so fucking careful.

thru midnight tonight (Wednesday), get a discounted full moon energy reading using the starry cauldron tarot deck in my shop.

This Post Has One Comment

  1. God, I can’t believe you went through all that. Be careful? Holy shit, totally inadequate, an affront to your being. Your gift is in the telling. It’s healing to your readers.

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