The power I now have over my mind is enough to make me weep. My boy came home tonight. Every cell in my body danced when I saw his fathers car arrive, my cub scrambled from his car seat and bounced into my arms. In a week, his understanding and intelligence has once again exceeded my beliefs. He is my life and stood there with my love, my day of complete ecstasy began.

I’m not engaged, I’m not pregnant, I haven’t won the lottery. Ecstasy in the sense of pure ultimate happiness. I obviously haven’t taken drugs, I’ve been off them a long time. I’m not drunk, I just find an incredible peacefulness about my world today. Enough to bring me to tears. Every time he is away I struggle. His presence is unworldly, it is a mystery of complete beauty beyond us.

He left last Saturday. I took the train to Carlisle, dropped him with his father and immediately came home. I stayed up late with my love and enjoyed motherly freedom. It only lasts a day or two and I start to struggle with simple tasks without him. The difference now makes me ecstatic of my progress. I was sad but I got out of bed and studied, I worked out plans, I did the days. A year ago it wouldn’t have happened. I awoke early, after nights of staying up late to understand my own mind with the persuasion of the moonlight; no one judges you when the earth is asleep, you become free. I attended a meditation class with my Mother but had to leave early. The room was too new, the people too awkward and unacquainted. My body refused to go limp, enslaved to my anxious thoughts. The monk we spoke to was understanding and although I meditate most days in my comfortable environment – my safe place – I shall try again next week.

I got by baby home, we went to the park and I thrived in the idea for about an hour before I messed up Gracey style. I was so excited, getting sweating running after him, kisses and slides, pushing the roundabout, laughing like an idiot. I fell, managed to slice the whole of my knee on a rubber park safety mat (I know), and had to leave my baby to wait three hours in A and E. Typical. But I stayed in a constant state of bliss. It’s possibly the fact I’ve finally cracked into a ridiculous amount of coursework or Noah has returned and my inner child blooms in his company. But honestly, I have had this conversation with my love recently, without any chemicals to induce my mood, at least once a day I am almost brought to tears of how thankful I am for my progress, for the person I have become and the way my life has changed. I am thankful for my mistakes, my faults. I have fucked up enormously and at twenty-two, I’m free.

I would use meditation to escape my problems for ten minutes, to settle my mind, to understand that whatever is going on isn’t equivalent to the apocalypse. Then without noticing, I gradually interpreted it into everyday life. Having a shower I would breathe in the lathering soap caressing my skin, I’d be slow. Or realising how much I love to cook, using different oils, vegetables, seasonings. To smell, eat slowly, enjoy the sensations that I’m experiencing. I’m in love with simple things again.

Today Noah was so worried about my cut. After being convinced to visit the hospital I realised how desensitised I have become to that amount of blood. Realising this, hit a nerve. I tried explaining to my Mother, ‘its okay! I’ve had worse! It isn’t that bad!’ Actually it wasn’t okay. I obeyed commands and went to get checked for the sake of those who loved me. Otherwise it’s me accepting that a wound like that is everyday life. It is not. Not to an undamaged mind.

When we eventually crawled into bed for kisses, passionate fairytale stories and overreactions of the century to a snail loosing its shell – which was well worth it causing a fit of tremendous giggles – he asked me over and over if i was okay. This isn’t just a toddler knowing Mummy has a cut. This is a child that has grown understanding his mother has been massively mentally ill. The constant ‘you will be okay’, ‘don’t get upset’, ‘in the morning things will be fine’. As a parent it breaks your heart. I mostly write about mental health and motherhood but the fact he is the closest person in my entire life. Himself and my love that can understand it in an empathic and adult sense, and the child that has grown with it as an ordinary. That hits you like a bolt of lighting. That realisation.

I laid with him and smiled. I kissed his skin and desperately made him laugh. I explained that Mummy hasn’t been well but she is okay now. Mummy has been ill in her head, not a bump Noah no, inside. Like when you have a tummy ache but your skin doesn’t hurt. But it happens and she’s okay now. I promise you. He kissed me and stared though those big ocean eyes before minutes later falling asleep. I was nearly sent to tears.

On a daily basis I am in awe of my life, how far I’ve become and the fact I have met a man that mirrors me in ambition, love, attitude and everything else I can think of. I am blessed. I’m writing again and that is proof. When I was seriously ill I kept thinking, it has to get better, I have to eventually be rewarded for everything bitter. I still have the extent of those emotions but now I have no idea what to do with them. Things became not okay, no. Fucking unbelievable. The sun came up just as he told me. The happiness is exceptional and I am finally making those incredible people proud. The ones that never gave up on me.

Mother, Lover, Forgiver. 

E x

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