Clawing my way back

Writing has been my therapy since I was about eight years old. I wrote about how annoying my sisters were back then, making up insane stories about ship wrecks and other mysteries.

When my parents separated, my journals became a way for me to understand my new reality, though the year my parents split up is a year I have minimal memory of.

In all honesty, I have been on the verge of a mental breakdown since my husband left me 14months ago. I was already fragile, one of our fights had gotten me to the point where I no longer wanted to live. This was on the Sunday night and by Friday he left our relationship.

I managed to attend a birth that weekend as a doula, feeling extremely grateful in my ability to focus on others and pour love on a birthing experience despite my broken heart.

Shame, blame and pain have been the story of our separation.

I am ready to lay this story down. I have let go. I know how much I loved him and that for ten years he was my soul mate. Regardless of how awful our separation has been I still know he is a great man and that he is a wonderful father.

What I am trying to do is lay a new foundation. Let my previous hopes and dreams fall away and trust that something beautiful will happen again for me. To feel content as my own woman, to really love myself, to enjoy my own company and to focus on being the best mother I can be. I have overcome a lot in my life and recently, an accumulation of stress and lack of help in parenting helped me find the basement of rock bottom. I scared myself, I scared my friends and family and honestly I wasn’t sure I could drag myself out of that space again.

Yet here I am, I have crawled out, I am alive, I want to be alive. I cannot carry my responsibilities on my own. My staff have stepped up in a huge way, my friends have held my hands as I fight my way through this, my family have supported me financially and with lots of teary phone calls. I am determined to become the best version of me and I forgive myself for cracking under heartbreak and pressure.

Yesterday was mother’s day. I felt so unbelievably grateful to be a mum and whilst my son had a woeful 2 hour tantrum, at 10pm when I finally calmed him down, I felt so proud of myself for holding space for him, for holding my own boundaries with him, for choosing to stay and work on myself, to try again when I fuck up and to always admit when I have made a mistake. I love my children and even though I am often in the trenches with them, I am always grateful that I am their mum.

I hold so much compassion for my own mum, who raised us on her own. I feel grateful for our relationship now, and I know she would do anything for her girls.

As mothers we don’t always get it right. We often get triggered or caught up in our own stories rather than remaining present with our children. Connection matters so much more than perfection. As a perfectionist that worries me greatly ;) My children know I love them, they know I’ll always listen to them (despite “you NEVER listen to me” being thrown around a LOT right now), they know I treat them equally (even if my attention is more often on the loudest most obnoxious child at any given time), and I know I always try my best.

Our mantra before bed last night was;

I am safe

I am loved

I am calm

I am happy

While I miss my ex husbands delicious coffee, love notes, coaching and support it feels nice to make my own delicious coffee, to write love notes to as many people as I can (including myself), and it feels really damn great to support myself and my children. I cant change my circumstances therefore I must change the way I view them.

With all the love,

Ariel x