Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Maya Angelou
This morning one of my daughters, the foster daughter we raised through her teens, phoned, crying. At first, I could barely make out what she was saying, she was crying so hard. But, as she calmed down, I understood what had happened. Her oldest sister had run into her while she was grocery shopping and began yelling at her about their brother who had killed himself two years ago. "You killed our brother!" her sister screamed. Our daughter (who I'll call M.) was embarrassed, angry, and very hurt. Sadly, this can be a common problem in the aftermath of a suicide: blaming other members of the family. I talked to M. for a long time, kindly, gently reminding her that her brother's death hadn't been her fault; that she was a good person; that I didn't understand why her sister was so hurtful. Eventually, she calmed down and then I told her I loved her and hung up.
After I hung the phone up, I was thinking about how I responded to M.'s distress. If only I could be that kind to myself. Well, sometimes I am. Yesterday wasn't one of those days, however. We leave for Michigan in a few days where I will either hear from my biological daughter or not; I will hear from her father or not. The thought of being excluded or, even worse, belittled for not being who they would like me to be, turns my stomach into knots. I dread the thought of being so close, and yet so far away from these two people who are so important in my life. Yesterday, I was quite morose about my powerlessness in the face of their silence. And then, today, after talking to M., I realized that I can talk kindly to myself. It doesn't always work, but when I am able to stay grounded and listen to myself, I feel strong.
I take a small book bound in Japanese paper with me everywhere I go. Inside, I've written poems and sayings that lift me up. "Still I Rise," by Maya Angelou is one of those poems. When I feel raw and hurt, I read the poem out loud to remind myself that I, too, have power. I have the power to choose how I feel about myself. I also have poems by Rumi, Wendell Berry, Naomi Shihab Nye, Mary Oliver and others in my little book. Each poem gives me strength, when I remember to pause and truly take in the words. Sometimes - like yesterday - I forget and lie on the bed and imagine hurtful scenarios in which my daughter tells me she never wants to speak to me again. Or I hear the hurtful words of my ex's last email echoing through my heart. And this is the hard truth: we cannot always please others. We can only stay true to ourselves.
I'm blessed with being in a choir and I've got many songs memorized. One of my favorites is "Storm Comin'" by the Wailin' Jennys. Our choir performed that song at our last concert and from time-to-time lines from the song pop into my head. Sometimes I start to sing the song. Sometimes, I just hear the lines and nod my head in agreement. Below are some lines from this powerful song.
When that storm comes don't run for cover
When that storm comes don't run for cover
Don't run from the comin' storm cause there ain't no use in runnin'.
When that rain falls let it wash away
When that rain falls let it wash away
Let it wash away that fallin' rain the tears and the trouble.
(The Wailin' Jennys)
Finally, here is another song that I love. It never fails to lift my spirits.
What do you do to help cope with estrangement? Do you have any affirmations, poems, or songs you'd like to share? I'd love to hear them.
