I’m thinking about this 180 degree shift from dis- to re- empowerment and how it feels like my life has just split wide open.  Much of the overlay of victimhood has dropped away and I am simply seeing things as they are, for the first time in a long while.  I’ve become so much aware of the stories I make up about things and how they make me suffer so terribly.

An objective example is the daddies at the playground, which I’ve written about before.  For much of the past seven months, seeing daddies at the playground would set me off into a very compelling lack narrative, which would go something like this:

Oh, no, not another dad.  I can’t stand seeing all these dads.  Seeing them just reminds me of how my husband left me and abandoned our son.  Look — I am the only single mother at this playground.  I feel like such a freak.  I hate all these married people and their shiny, happy lives…

Whereas tonight, I took Sami to a playground, and there were dads there.  And none of that story came up for me.  I simply noticed that there were dads at the playground, and didn’t feel the need to attach a narrative to that fact.  Sami and I took off running across a empty soccer field.  He chased me, then I chased him, then I helped him roll down a hill about fifteen times.  I laughed as I watched his little body turn over and over until gravity brought him to a stop.  I was present with my son.  It was as if a heavy veil had been lifted from in front of my eyes and I could experience things just as they were.  No running commentary.  Surprise!  There is joy beneath these painful stories I have grown so accustomed to telling.

How could it be that in just a few days, I have gone from feeling like a victim to feeling privileged?  I feel privileged to witness the remarkable childhood of my son.  Privileged to give every bath, to provide every snack, to read every book, even to change poopy diapers.  This motherhood experience is a gift: not a gift that I wanted or expected, but now that it is mine, I am grateful beyond words. 

When I open my eyes and really look, my life is rich and abundant. 

How could I have gone for so long and not seen it?

I hope I do not forget this sense of wonder, blowing in with the autumn.