Closing

A few weeks ago, my new shrink stopped in the middle of history taking and asked me to answer a questionnaire of sorts. As the session closed, she prescribed some anti-anxiety meds to take when I "feel like I needed it". I said I was fine, that I didn't really need it, but she insisted; the score I got in the questionnaire made her reiterate her recommendation. (I don't know what score I got, but she looked concerned.)

As I took it tonight, Lucia asked, "Mommy, are you taking your medicine again?"

"Yes," I said.

"Okay. I'll tell Manang I'll take a shower now so we can be on the bed before your eyes go closing again." (She can tell when my meds finally kick in because I turn really groggy and I am literally unable to keep my eyes open.)

Am I making her grow up too fast? Does she feel like she has no choice but to take care of me?

Emotional self-flagellation is exhausting.

And so I wait for my wee one and hope that she falls asleep before I do, so she won't hear me cry again.

Sssh.

Maybe if I speak quietly, It will pass me by; It won't see me; It will think I am just another thing occupying space; But it doesn't matter if It sees me or not, because I see It; I know It well enough to just close my eyes and wait till It is done; Till It does what It does; And I will pick up the pieces, like I always have;

But I see you; I see you there; And you're so patient with me; Because you know that eventually, I will come to you; Because like it or not, I know that I am still myself when I am with you;

In a way, I've been waiting for you; I've always wondered when you'd be back; I've been so tired; I didn't realize I've been holding my breath, waiting for you to return;

To be honest, you're the only one I can really rely on; For you, at least, are constant;

Come then; Let's get it over with;

I'm good! You? :)

Maybe Later

This morning, a conversation:

Lucia walks up to me, holding a stuffed dog (an ugly little thing with pretty bows), a gift her "other lola" gave her.

"Mommy, I want you to love my other Lola."

"I can't force myself to love someone I hate, babe. I'm sorry."

"But I love her."

"And that's okay. You can love her all you want. I really can't."

"Can you love her later. Like in...December?"

"I can't say. I can be nice to her, but I really can't love her."

"Okay. Hey, mom. You know what else I was thinking?"

(BRACING MYSELF.)

"No, what?"

"What's Ariel's (the Little Mermaid) mom's name?"

--

Woman, if by any chance you read this, know that at some point, before knowing who you are and what you did, your granddaughter loved you. I will keep her from the painful truth for as long as I can, but when she asks (and if she is old enough), I will tell her.

And you know what? She will probably still love you. Because she is beautiful that way.

As for me...

--

Someday, I will stop hating you. Maybe. And long after that, maybe then, I will forgive you.

--

(And I continue to pray for forgiveness for being unable to forgive.)