mud, motherhood and meaning

What do you think of when you consider mud? Murky waters? Gross, trudging through damp, dreary days?

Sometimes I think of rainy day pig or chicken rescues. Going out, getting sopping wet, moving animals to higher, or simply dryer ground. Or, gathering them from just sitting in the rain. Not all animals are smart.

However, as I was in bed a few nights ago, this line struck me: “mud isn’t always in the pasture.”

True.

Sometimes the muddiest situations we will ever face are within the walls of our home. This may be based on our own issues or struggles, our children, our parents, our spouses, our jobs…it could be a million things.

For me, it has been learning that what I thought I was getting into was not at all what I was getting into. I mean, not everything has changed, but the foundation has changed. The muddiest parts of my life have been lived inside my home.

I learned that people lie, people manipulate, people cheat and steal to get what they want. People gaslight and distort reality to suit themselves. People are selfish. People are self-serving, narcissistic, self-righteous even.

I have learned that I am hard to deal with. I am hard to handle. Yes, it is true. I speak my mind. I do not lie. I do not pretend to like you if I do not. I do not have the energy to be fake. I can be very outspoken. I can be super judgmental.

However, my being any of those things does not require me to accept the poor treatment of others. Not even my family. No matter if it is the family I was born to or married into. I do not have to accept the mud slinging.

While I do have the choice to dig down, grab fistfuls and fire it back, I, also, have the choice to trudge through and walk away. Has this been easy? Not at all. The easier thing to do is always to fire back.

I could fire back with all the wrongs that have been done to me. I could fire back with all the mistreatment I have received my entire life. I could fire back and give examples of weight that I was never meant to carry; things that were not mine. I was given cards to hold when the deck had been blatantly stacked against me. That deck was purposefully stacked against me.

To know that someone has taken the time to really manipulate me and try to turn that situation around to be my fault, man, what an eye-opener, huh?

How do I deal with it? I choose my response.

Has that included yelling, screaming, and flailing my arms wildly (while very pregnant and possibly peeing myself)? Yes, yes it has.

Has that included crying alone in the shower? Also, yes.

Has that included walking the fuck away? Also, a very firm yes.

Sometimes that means setting boundaries. No contact. Nothing. Give me space. Do not talk to me, text me, send me social media communcation….nothing. Cut off. All done.

And, therapy. I have been doing trauma therapy for about four years. I have been learning about trauma patterns, behaviors, childhood trauma, mother wounds, attachment styles, EMDR…

Therapy has been a life-saver. To be really heard. To be truly seen. To find out that I am not crazy for thinking my life has been fucked up was lightening–like, I became lighter knowing my life has been a shitshow…complete and total dumpster fire.

Do we all have dumpster fires? YES!!! Hear me when I say, WE ALL HAVE TRAUMA. We all have things that cause us stress or anxiety. For each of us, our worst days are our worst days no matter how those days compare to anyone else’s. Accepting that my hardest days will forever be the hardest days that I survived, and that matters, was hard. I was constantly trying to make them “less” important than what other people go through. Like, “someone has cancer or has a sick kid, that is worse than what I am dealing it.” That simply isn’t true.

The muddiest waters I have walked through have been within my marriage and within my birth family. My dad died and my entire life changed, as an adult.

I have been slowly moving through this mud since 2018. Some days, I have been able to walk without much assistance. Just slow and steady. Other days, I have needed a shovel to dig my every step out. And, for a few of those days, I have needed pulled out with a tractor; a big one. I am fully aware more days are coming.

I am choosing the hard days. I am choosing to work through these murky waters instead of building a bridge over or around them. Ya see, that is what all those before me did. I was handed, not only my life path, but theirs as well. I was handed all the curses, or traumas, or cycles, or whatever you want to call it. I was handed this tightly, beautifully wrapped gift with a very pretty bow atop the blue floral wrapping paper. Such a beautiful gift! Until the box popped open and out flowed the years of unhealed awfulness that came before my time. I imagine black shadows coming out of the box and inserting themselves into me. Yes, I am a super visual person.

I didn’t sign up for that gift. I didn’t ask for it. Or, maybe my soul did? How woo-woo do we want to get? Our souls come here to learn lessons. Maybe I did sign up for this. Maybe I am the strongest in my line. I recently told my sister something similar. “If you cannot stop the cycle. I will. I am the wall. It ends here.”

It does end here. I just have a lot more work to do.