Musings of a pain with no measure...

I read an article today of a mother wedged from the lives of her children by an indifferent system and a domineering husband and I thought about mothering and the pain and the risks involved in being so opened, exposed and vulnerable.

I thought about my involvement with my children, my presence in their life and what that means to my identity. It's staggering to come face to face with my reality since their birth, the introduction of my children to a lost and wandering soul.

Since them, my consciousness has risen and continues to rise. I am more aware of pain--I feel as if I lived a rather uninspired life before they were here, as if I merely existed. Now I keep myself awake at night when I do wrong by them or if I run the threat of doing wrong by them.

It's as if they have clarified my mind's eye--I'm not sure how much I like it.

That's not true--I know I like it, I'm a fuller person, I'm deeper, more spiritual, more connected to a sense of purpose or at least a desire to have one. But the uber-sensitivity, the exposure to pain hurts and does not allow me to just exist any longer. I am not off the hook--my life matters as do my actions and my words. I am accountable.

Imagine a mirror hinged on you, following you, reflecting you and deflecting you all the same. I have no choice but to be aware, conscious, alert and mindful.

There are times when I yell at them and instantly I know--I have changed them, broken them in some way, restrained them, contained them--the awareness of this cuts into me, my skin tingles and my head aches and spins. It hinders my breath and I think I might die in my sleep from affliction.

The wrath of me as mom is almost as intense and powerful as the love of me as mom--two opposing forces, both with equal shaping power.