Sometimes we just need a hug.

Sometimes we just need a good crying fest and a hug to relieve ourselves from built up anxiety, frustration and stress. Last Tuesday I received the wakeup call I so desperately needed. After weeks of riding the waves of uncertainty, self-pity and ambiguous moods, I arrived at a place where I began feeling as if I was out of ideas. I prayed, I cried, I listened to gospel music and inspirational messages, I went to church, I spoke to others about their situations (not my own) offered opinions and suggestions, brought my boys to their events, read motivational blogs and books and cry and pray some more. I did all the things that previously would have helped me to overcome the state of despondency I was in but, nothing seemed to work!

I fought hard to make sense of what caused all this. Yes, mentally or emotionally, I’m not where I want or wish to be. Yes, the pains in my hips and joints seem to be on a steady increase. My finances most certainly needs to be multiplied and I was a bit overwhelmed by my growing to-do list. Yes, I thought of the benefits of having a loving, understanding, capable, significant other. I thought of all the things in my life that could use an upgrade, but while I thought about those things, I soon realized they weren’t the reason for my discontentment, though they added to the levels of uneasiness. I thought about all the things that are going right, like the fact that God has been and continues to be merciful, my children are happy, loved, fed, content, have a roof above their heads, my family members are in good/fair health, amid everything I am home and not in the hospital etc, so obviously that wasn’t the cause of my discomfort. I considered the possibility that my despair was due to a medical imbalance or possibly pain induced, resulting from all the physical pains I’ve been experiencing, so I consulted a physician friend, of course nothing could be proven for sure, so we chalked my mental, spiritual, emotional, physical dis-ease, to the mind.

Mom and I have always had the type of relationship where we loved and respected each other as mother and daughter. Ours was the typical relationship were, even though we know we could/can, for some reason we didn’t have frequent mother/daughter conversations. We spoke daily but about the simply and mundane, talks about our feelings and emotions were kept to the bare minimum (I struggled to understand why that was, and thought it was due to her upbringing) however, the truth is, we just never took the time to establish or cultivate that relationship, partly because of her religious beliefs, partly because of difference in perceptions, partly because she rarely engaged us (her children) in conversation about our daily happenings, and partly because of how the situation was dealt with when I went to her at five to report the molestation which then led to years of rape because it wasn’t addressed.

In recent years however, we have been getting better at confiding in each other. I find it ironic that though we hardly spoke about what we were facing, we were able to read each others emotion like a book. It’s not lost on either of us that we wear our emotions/heart on our sleeves and face, so it’s rather easy to tell when something is wrong. It was Monday of last week I began feeling as if I just wanted to be held and the person I wanted to hold me was my mother. I thought it odd because we weren’t born to or raised to be affectionate by our parents, but I needed, I yearned for a hug from my mother. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that, so I dealt with my issues alone and simply sighed. Tuesday, March 19, 2019, my mother walked into my bedroom and began doing her occasional motherly thing. Mom began telling me I need to snap out of my funk. She proceeded to say, I can’t allow my mind to keep me captive and regardless of the negatives that surrounds me, I am too blessed, determined and strong to succumb to the lies that swirled in my mind. With my back turned to her, tears streamed down my face. I listened to every word she said, some of her assumptions were on point while a few narrowly missed the mark. She spoke for approximately half an hour, I sat and just listened.

The dialogue exchanged between us was welcoming, and though I cried from the weight of uncertainty and fear (the later discovered reasons) I sat longingly, hoping she would hug me, but I am too grown for that I convinced myself. Just then, mom walked over, with her arms opened, wrapped one arm around my shoulders and the other cradling my head, she said “Larissa, I love you” and began praying. I bawled, as I allowed myself to feel the warmth of my mother’s  embrace. With my head resting on her bosom, I felt that burden, the weight of all that had me bound began to lift, my thoughts shifted from my own sorrows and unto my mother’s. As she finished her prayer, she uttered words I will not soon forget, she whispered “Larissa, you have to overcome this because the world is waiting for you. Larissa, I am waiting for you.” Just then I thought to myself, “How the hell have this woman survived all the hellish experiences she has undergone in her own life, not having anyone to truly help her navigate her pains, trials, turmoils, heartaches, heartbreaks, disappointments, abuse of all sorts and yet here she stands?!”

My woes were lifted thanks to a mother’s, my mother’s hug, love and reassurance. I felt rejuvenated and even more determined to fight. Knowing I fight for her, I fight for me. Somehow, somewhere I had known and have both knowingly and unknowingly assumed the responsibility of not just fighting for myself but for my dear mother. Last Tuesday my will to fight was renewed, revived and restored. I am determined now more than ever, with the help of God to not only commit to my healing but to discover and fulfill purpose  all the way through. Setbacks, failures, pitfalls, bawling fest and all, I will persevere, thank you Sandra for always being there, even through the times I thought otherwise. Thank you mom.

Join me as I/we journey 2 free, from my heart to yours. Larissa.

 

%d