Nothing is the place where I sometimes live to get through my day. It is a numbness that lives in the world of do, do, do. Nothingness is what I feel, when I fix the breakfast, change the diapers, get everyone dressed, fold the clothes. I feel nothing when I turn on the tv, brew the coffee, or clean up the dishes. Nothing is a place to survive, from all the intense feelings that sometimes simmer just beneath the surface. All of the vulnerability, the exposure, that comes with the world of parenthood... having tiny pieces of your heart walking/crawling around, falling down, getting bruised, pushing all of your buttons - pushing you to the limits of yourself.
Nothing is what I feel when I spend time on facebook or reading articles. Nothing is what I feel when I leaf through magazines, or watch the Food Network. Nothing is what I feel when I drink that glass of wine or fill my schedule to the brim.
It's when I see you - when I REALLY see or hear or feel you - that nothing becomes something.
I am rescued from the nothing when I exhale and take you all in. The messy hair, the dirty fingernails. The excessive toddler demands. The beautiful curl of your lips. I feel, so much. When I take a moment to revel in your sweet, fleeting babyhood, as I hold you in my arms. As I hug you tightly... and breathe in the sweet scent of baby shampoo in your soft hair. The sound of your laugh is something... it's everything. When we sit all together as a family and play music, singing, dancing, expressing.... I feel something. I feel so happy. I feel so blessed. So grateful.
Nothing is where I survive... but when I allow myself the time and space of something - of everything - is when I'm truly alive.
