How I Woke Up This Time

Sometimes the striking actualization of clarity… It takes my breath away.

Once every few years, I have a reckoning. I gain a new understanding about my relationship with myself and with my family. In between those times, I strive to be a better person than each of my yesterdays, more in alignment with the truest version of myself. The ideal self. My ideal self.

I try to correct my mistakes and learn my triggers so that I don’t negatively affect those around me. I want to attain a higher level of spirituality, and I do that through love.

But what is love? Love is empathy, respect, and it leads me to a mental state where I want to provide a positive impact. Love is a billion other things and nothing at all. Love is everything.

Let me tell you, love is the most powerful motivator. Once I learned this, I began to see the façade in the relationships around me. The actions that people take (including myself!) have indicators; will you take your time to find them? If I study the situation and the person, I can come to understand their headspace and the answers to any lingering questions become resolved.

In the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic, I had my last Come-To-Jesus (pardon the religious reference, it’s the most assured way to clearly relate my point to the masses). If you search through my stories for “The Horse in the Mirror” you can read all about that. I have been cruising along without any major milestones since then… until last night.

Last night, a heartbreaking question from a loved one, and it fucking hits me like a truck. Like a fully-loaded semi-truck, carrying both metal and large animals to slaughter. The weight of the metal and the blood of the animals chokes me, takes away my vision so that I have no choice except to look inward.

“Why does he have to be mean to me?”

This time, I wake up to the knowledge that by accepting my place trudging water, I have let my children down.

Around the beginning of the pandemic, I was in the beginning of a court case concerning custody of my daughter. When I “lost” the court case, and my time with my daughter not only didn’t increase, it actually became less often. I felt panic-stricken and depressed. It felt like I was dying with each new moment in court, with each new decision. I felt ashamed, even though the judge made sure to point out, “Ms. Fowler, you haven’t done anything wrong. Quite the opposite, you have found your backbone and you have finally stood up.” I felt like I was being seen as a bad mother. I thought angrily, “I bet he’s telling his family he won because I am a bad mother.”

As an adult, I have done so much growing. You see, as a child, I had been abused, taken away from my mother, then from my father. I was sent to live with my grandparents twice. I ran away long before they were ready, but not soon enough for myself. I have struggled with my mental health and this was just one more trauma to have to deal with. One more thing to have to heal from. One more thing I had to help my children heal from, which leads me back to the present.

I have a lot of work to do to right this wrong, but I am armed with a promise: “You’re right, and I’ll never let it happen again.”

I won’t break my promise to my son.