Grief

Grief does not always take the form of tears.

It sometimes takes the form of anger, of destruction, of quietness, of shrinking into invisibility. Sometimes it takes the form of snot-flying-all-out-fits.

The fact is that we have a little girl who has a lot to grieve about and it is coming out in many different ways. Sometimes I lose sight of the fact that it might be grief that is showing itself to me in something she is doing. Tonight was a good example.

We had had a long day and I have been threadbare, maintaining, but the voice is getting a little sharp at the corners and the answers are coming out a little quicker than I would like. The faces of my children tell me that I am not doing a good job at keeping it together.

I had planned to go to a bible study tonight and was really looking forward to the escape and the recharge. The whole day was worked around my having everything done by 6:30 so that I could leave. I cooked a real-meal dinner even and fed all the girls before my beloved husband got home. I got 2 kids showered and into pj's. I was helping Sweetpea fold her clean laundry when something else called my attention. I told her to do something and call me when she was done. As I was in the other room for not more than 3 minutes I hear indication that she is way off track. I march back in and ask why she was not doing it and then reset her to do as I had requested, now with my full supervision.

Well, she shut down and did not move. Then I noticed that she was crying ever so secretly. I took her and cradled her and she got mad. After a long time of mad and telling me that she did not want me, she calmed enough to accept my touch. After a very long time of silence and hiding from me she let me talk to her eyes. She was not doing much talking through this all and I was trying to get at the issue with empathetic talk but nothing was hitting the nail. After a long, long time I asked her again what happened to cause her to cry and be mad and to my surprise she told me. I had "yelled" at her when I had returned.

I fought the desire to vindicate myself and inform her that she has never seen me yell, yet. Rather I responded with appropriate empathy and this time the nail was struck and the tears poured forth from a broken hearted little girl. I held her and she accepted my comforts. I soothed her for a long time until she was done.

I feel sad. She went to bed with such a downcast heart, swollen eyes and her guard up against me still. Such a minor infraction in the scheme of life and I bear a costly penalty. Have I crushed the fragile trust she had put in me? How long will it take to regain it? I am not a perfect parent, I am not close to a perfect person and I know I will fail her on a daily basis.

My heart is sad.