Emotional capacity

As a bereaved mother, the parent of an angel, I have an emotional reserve no bigger than a thimble. Yes, the amount of stress, duress, conflict, it takes to fill me up and tip me over could fit inside a cup no bigger than the tip of my finger.

I have worked extremely hard to try to eliminate triggers, reduce stress, minimize conflict, over the past two years since losing my son, so that I could try and utilize any and all emotional reserve that may remain for love, compassion, and empathy.

But life just doesn’t cooperate with my plans. It’s tough, and mean, and spiteful, and nasty. And I have made choices that I am proud to defend. But those choices have led to conflict, and turmoil, and tension that have both tested me, and resulted in some growth of my emotional capacity.

In my life, I play a number of roles, the primary of those being a mother to an angel, a mother to a growing boy, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a professional. In the pie chart that is my collection of roles, there is only so much space for emotion. And while I’d like to hope that I give a little to each somewhat equally, the truth is, grief, still, two years in, still swallows a majority of that pie.

Almost one half, or just about the rest of that emotional pie, goes straight to parenting. The emotions that parenting requires takes me on a rollercoaster so many times a day, I’m either dizzy or close to nausea just about 24/7. It’s constant fear, and guilt, and pride, and joy, and worry, and elation…and words that don’t even exist.

So that leaves about three percent of my emotional capacity left for everything, and everyone, else. Is it fair? Absolutely not. Would I like to give my husband and my parents and my friends and my siblings and my work the emotions – the true heart – that are consumed by parenting and grief? Absolutely.

But that is a balance I am going to figure out how to master. Because right now all I can do is try to raise the most confident, kind, and strong tiny human possible, while simultaneously grieving the sweetest, bravest, and happiest little angel ever born.

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