Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Today was such a difficult day at work. So difficult that I was aware of my body going into depression again just to self-preserve. It almost doesn't help to know what's happening to you (logic), if you can do nothing about it. It was beyond my control. But somehow, at bathtime things started to switch over to being okay again. I started being silly again, and used goofy voices when we read books. I gave lots of tickles and hugs and almost made one bubbies pee his pants...oops :) I spent quality time with each of my sweethearts before bed. And then bed. The littlest little has made a habit of going to bed by 9:30pm, despite my greatest efforts. Tonight he was out before 8:30pm. And while normally I would be relieved and get out of the room to finish my to do list, tonight was different. Tonight I savored the moment. His whispy hair blowing on my chest, and chubby little fingers gripping my arm. His ear to my heart. Instantly, I was taken back to the time we spent early on, chest to cheek. Sometimes it was sweaty, sometimes sticky or milky, but always so sweet. Like a memory ball that Joy brings back into my recollection periodically. This is how I want to remember you always, my sweet boy. Then I remembered the other little, nursing him for hours upon hours upon hours, and finally if I could ever so carefully slip his mouth off...ahh...relief but I wasn't actually done. My reward for all that nursing was allowing time to stand still as you slept on me. I dare not move because Lord knows we both needed that nap. But my rest was enough just to watch the awe and wonderful of this precious being develop before my eyes. And now the first child that made me a mother will be going to Kindergarten in the Fall. How quickly the time passes.

I begged and pleaded, and let's be honest, bargained, with God today to bring me the opportunity I need to feel some sanity again. To feel even just a little peace. I want to enjoy what I do and not be hindered by negativity that is shredding the very core of my being, one small piece at a time. I just want to savor these moments and not be burdened by the drama, the notes, the deadlines, the crises, the stress that is probably oozing out of my pores. I have no doubt the future holds my heart's desires. But in this moment, even though I didn't ask for it, I was given the gift of presence. It was not something I meant to do, but rather a reminder that I already have my answer to peace--living under the same roof. Ironic that these peace bringers also cause the most stress and mess too, huh??! ;) What a gift, my two little treasures.

And so...tomorrow will bring what it will. But for tonight, I will soak in the serenity of this moment, and the hope that there will be many more like this when I open myself up to the opportunity.

The darkness

I have experienced deep despair,
hopelessness,
true darkness.

When I walk into someone's home that is infested with cockroaches, or bedbugs, or fleas. The menaces are symptoms of a much bigger issue: poverty.

I work with people who fear that their partner will beat them, or their kids, or both.
People that have literally no income other than what the government provides them--which is literally less than beans.

I go into the homes of women who were taught that they are worth nothing more than the number of children they produce, which for one right now is #5, and she's 25 years old.

I see single dads that are told to get a job, then get a better job, but their only transportation is a bus that takes them from the poorest of neighborhoods, home, to one of the richest cities two hours away, work, and the whole way they're trying not to get caught by ICE or police because they are a single parent, undocumented, and daughter is in high school studying furiously over the summer.

I listen to moms that had mad addictions, but have been clean for years, and that alone is further ahead than the example her mom taught her.

I read files and case reports of abuse after gory abuse, but then meet the parent and realize abuse is a perpetual cycle straight down through the lineage.

I face physical violence,
aggression,
hurt,
depression,
suicide,
and hopelessness
daily.

I have sat with families in their grief,
been the referee in fights,
stood in the way of a punch.

I have called the child abuse hotline more times than I care to count,
been told "fuck you"
and had the door slammed in my face.

But I have also seen a mother reach out to her son for the first time after being reunified.
I've seen happy tears of people that only ever show their anger.
I've fought back my own tears after seeing a parent and child embrace.

I see darkness all the time. But the beauty about darkness, I've learned, is that the smallest little bit of light can give birth to hope.

I'm not afraid of the darkness anymore. To sit with people in it, to walk toward it, to be affected by it.
Because when the glimmer of light comes, hope is born, resiliency takes root, and the beauty in humanity shows it's perseverant face.