She hisses at the parchment paper, still crisp, defiantly waiting for the cover of darkness to bleed, to bloom.

Lucky enough

I don’t bear the weight of all the blame. I didn’t want to be a father, but I accepted that I had to step into a role I wasn’t prepared for. I got too comfortable as a single mom. I just did what had to be done. 

As single parents we take on this pseudo hybrid role of both parents. But we’re not meant to, and I had lost myself in it. As I began to question why I’m not as feminine as I used to be, I found that that lovely woman was a prism of light and beauty tucked away in the corners of her own mind. She was always there, she just wasn’t the lead anymore. 

I didn’t want to be a father. I didn’t want to have to be the sole provider. I didn’t want to have to have conversations with my sons their father should have had. I didn’t want to have conversations with my daughter her father should’ve had with her.

I draw strength from the woman, I am. I look back to give myself a smack on the ass and say you did pretty good, just look at those amazing humans you raised. 

This is not an explanation or an excuse. There are no trophies, or awards or accolades for stepping into roles we never wanted, and that’s okay. I don’t need the accolades. The sacrifices I made were mine to make. And the rewards far outweigh the sacrifices.

I’m not bitter about having to expand upon my energy, my time and my capabilities. My kids needed me, it’s an unconditional love, so without hesitation and without forethought, I just did what had to be done. 

I am not alone. There are many women like me. And there are a quite a few men that also took on both roles as a parent. 

I am sad though, because I think our kids need both parents. I don’t think being a single parent is what’s best for our kids, no matter how much we make it work - though sadly it has become the norm. 

There are a lot of things I did as a mom, that I’m very proud of and there are a lot of things that I had to do in a role I wasn’t meant for, that I did pretty well considering. Sure I made mistakes, that is normal. No parent is perfect. Two people raising their kids together, make lots of mistakes. 

In this moment of reflection, it may not have been fair to me, but more importantly it wasn’t fair to my kids. As their mother, it is my duty to ensure they have everything they need and that they feel loved. So I am at peace with having played both roles for as long as I have. If asked, I would tell you that I would’ve liked to have been just a mom, I would’ve liked their father to have stepped up more and done his part when they needed it most, when I was struggled the most. It is what it is. 

My father didn’t raise me to be a man. But I am forever grateful to have felt the amazing love and support that my father gave me. It certainly helped me to be better as a mom.

I’m exhausted with the notion that I have to be anything else. And although it seems that even I am confused about what that may look like at times, I’m not worried about living up to anyone’s expectations but my own. I don’t want gravity pulling me under because I can’t fill the shoes of a man. And - I don’t have to, I will always be their mom and that is more than enough. 

This era of my life is also for me, to just be a woman, a goddess, a queen, and the loving caring mother that I am lucky enough to be. 

And..

And 

what of that quiet burn?

How it spreads 

like wildfire just beneath the skin.

Such a quiet burn 

The blood as it thunders 

chasing lightning; raging.

Engorged, aroused. 

The ache, the agony, the anticipation.

Dripping sighs 

Tangled in the quickened breath 

of begging moans.

Show me, what of that quiet burn?

The mind bends and the heart breaks.

It’s hard to say which is worse.

They both hurt.

Universe

It will all be okay, it will. 

I don’t know how, but I do know it will be okay.

It may not be what we all think it should be, but it will be okay. 

The universe holds all our fates in the stars. Trust the universe. 

My mind knows best, how to punish me.

I will most likely also be stubborn in death. 

Not his baby

My toxic trait is I can get disrespectful if some random guy I don’t know tries to call me by any kind of affectionate name other than my actual name. 

The only man allowed to call me those kind of intimate names is the exclusive man in my life. I also need to know he’s not doling out those same names to every other female. 

On the other side of that, I’m southern, so I use terms of endearment like: sweetheart, sugar, cupcake, darling, love. 

Here’s the thing, if there was a guy in my life and he was uncomfortable with my southern manners, I would full on stop. Period. 

Getting called baby by some random dude means I will be educating said dude that I am in fact - Not his baby. 

That phase of healing where you have to look at the part you play in your own suffering, feels a lot like masochism. Oof! 

Last Days of Summer

Ahead in the distance I can see the rain. The sun is bright and illuminating the shadows of pouring rain. The water birds fight each other, but it’s peaceful other than that. I’m at my favorite Veteran’s Memorial Park having conversations with the sky praying for rain. 

This is the last day of summer. I got to see a perfect sunset at Indian Rocks Beach last night. And today I got to go hang out with my best friend and swim, we chilled out by the pool (mostly I did, since she was on mom duty). We floated on rafts a bit with drinks in hand and talked and giggled about life, then danced like idiots to her playlist, like it was water aerobics. 

There was a glorious sun shower while I was bathing in the sun and swimming like a mermaid. And I was fully present for the moment. 

Now. I’m walking barefoot; toes in the grass as dragonflies and bees wisp around me. I need to soak it all in. I won’t get to do this again soon enough.