i am the rabbit

tonight i find myself in the velveteen rabbit. i feel shabby and frayed at the edges. loose in the joints.

it's all this work i've been doing: my year* of mental health and healing. my purposeful pursuit of digging into my past, the wrong committed to me, tiny steps into forgiveness, self-care, digging into motherhood while mothering myself. deep tissue kind of stuff.  

so i feel raw and rough in spots. because becoming my{real} does hurt. and the skin horse did say, with loving honesty, that it would hurt, sometimes.

but i am nourished, comforted, with the part that it doesn't happen all at once. that it is day by day and bit by bit. it would be so unbearably painful if it were all at once.


tonight i used my powerful voice to make my four year old fearful. i was mean and it made me feel ugly inside knowing i was using my position to intimidate my little, weaker, one. i was so close to using something that i rarely and hatefully use: spanking. hitting.

so i decided to remember that she is small. and is also feeling very vulnerable and out of control and worried. i gently guided her back into her room and ushered her into my lap as i sat upon the floor and began rocking her while soothing her with shushes like when she was a baby. i held her softly even though her voice was on the loud side and bathroom language were her insults.

this went on for a long time. but she let me hold her.

and that might be the last time she will ever fall asleep in my arms while rocking her. 


but as i sushed and also rocked in silence, i asked for her forgiveness in my heart and started to forgive myself. to love myself.

i am an imperfect being. mother. friend. daughter. wife. sister. writer. housekeeper. exerciser (i'm really imperfect at this one especially). but in this i thought of the rabbit and the old skin horse.

of me and God. and what it means to be {real} for me.


*it's just what i'm labeling this year back from qatar, but of course, it's on-going. continuous.