From the Heart
When asked how I am doing I say, “I’m OK”.
What if I am NOT OK? I will still give a convincing and positive and reassuring “OK!”
Let’s just say I am trying to convince both of us.
I’ve been through enough crises and detours in my life that I’ve become quite the actress when asked, “How’s it going?” Fine, just fine … even when it’s not.
Even after a personal grenade has been set off I have a tendency to run towards it, gather up the residual effects and go home and bake a cake, put in a load of laundry and take a hot bath.
The next day I return to my normal activities and look as though I have not a care in the world … most of the time.
I am one who holds emotions inside. Not one to shed too many tears. I have learned to hold it together and push through a crisis and then go for a long drive.
I know just how to put on the “I’m OK” mask, pull on my big girl panties, and lace up my boot strings. Oh, and not forget to put on that smile.
I know that at times my emotions are raw inside. My heart bears the scars of being let go of, being let down, being left out and just simply being hurt.
I know the exhaustion of having the weight of the world on my shoulders. Maybe not the entire world … but my world.
I have a 93-year-old mom for whom I am the caretaker. The only child. The decisions about her care are mine and mine alone.
I have others who rely on me in more ways than I can count. I say I am not a worrier, yet at 2 a.m. I am awake, wondering if I have done everything in my power to help them.
Just because a child or grandchild reaches a certain age does not mean that your heartstrings aren’t still attached. Trust me … they are.
I may appear tough on the outside but my insides are tender, sometimes too tender.
I take things personally. While I try not to, I do. I hear with my heart. I hear what is said and what is not said.
If I can’t make something right, I feel like I have failed. I am all the time figuring out how to be a helper, a mender and a fixer. It gets exhausting.
Sometimes I feel like a mama herding cats. I get one tucked back into my safety net and another one jumps out. There is always that one that I always am worrying about. If only they knew.
Writing is often the outlet of my emotions. Sometimes my thoughts that I share are raw and to the quick. I even worry that I am sharing too much. I truly write from my heart.
So if you ask me today if I am OK … really, I’m OK.