Yesterday at 7 am, barely an hour after getting up, I was sobbing inconsolably at the kitchen table.
My day had hardly started and I felt so alone in my misery.
Looking back now, it must have been a culmination of big emotional roller-coasters this week – stroke these past ten months of covid – that dragged me for a while to the depths of my despair.
Homeschooling started on Monday which was tough for both my youngest son and me. I kept reminding him through gritted teeth that I am not his teacher, I am his mother. I don’t have all the answers and we are trying to work this out together. Ten worksheets and three and a half hours later, we finally finished the tasks for the day. Phew!
Time to escape for half an hour for a solitary walk to the park and back – or so I thought – when my phone rang halfway there. Huge sobs and gasps for air from my youngest greeted my ear. I immediately thought the worst. I spun around and walk-sprinted back home, trying to understand what had happened.
Whilst trying to untangle cables from behind his brand new smart TV, a Christmas present that he proudly displayed in his bedroom, it had toppled off the cupboard, smashing down onto a pile of Lego. The screen didn’t have a chance.
Obviously, he was devastated – angry with himself for being so careless and super sad because he’d lost his taste of independence.
I raced into the house and wrapped him in love.
Meanwhile, our teenager has been taking baby steps towards reinventing himself after making a few ill-judged decisions, hanging out with the wrong crowd and losing most of his motivation to do anything constructive in 2020.
I’ve never figuratively held his hand so much as during these past eight months.
Although he rejects it, I still wrap him in love in my own unique way.
So, despite a regular diet of self-care – enough sleep, water, exercise, virtual social contact and good food – it inevitably all came crashing down around my ears yesterday morning at stupid o’clock.
My husband did what he could to comfort me but then had to leave for work.
Sitting all alone at the kitchen table, still engulfed in the fog of tears, snot and negativity, I recalled a comforting question that I learnt from a mentor:
“What is the most loving thing you can do for yourself at this moment?”
I instinctively reached out for my phone and sent a vulnerable message to a group of close business buddies.
They inundated me with loving and supportive messages. I hopped on a call with them. They wrapped me in love and empathy and gradually I thawed from the pain I was going through.
And I felt loved.
In the afternoon, I went to the park with a good friend and we walked, talked and laughed for miles and miles in the freezing cold. We arrived back in our neighbourhood, said our goodbyes and I realised I felt loved.
After that, I spoke to an old and close friend for two hours on video chat. It was so good to see her lovely face and share what we’ve both been going through these past few weeks. We laughed, we commiserated, we listened.
I felt loved and the fog cleared.
And you, too, are loved.
Whatever you are going through, whatever you are feeling right now, however you are managing (or not), I guarantee that you are loved.
Because you are a lovable person. You were born lovable. You always have been lovable. You always will be lovable.
Trust me, you are.
So pick up the phone, send a message, spontaneously call someone who gets you. Someone who listens. Someone who takes you exactly as you are.
On the other side of doubt and negativity is love 💖
P.s. If you’d like me to help you release the negativity and doubt that is holding you back from feeling the love, let’s talk here.