Saturday June 4, 2011 - I woke to a brilliant sunlit Saturday with high hopes for a lovely day of family activities. I started some laundry and went to the kitchen to make banana nut muffins. Ra was talking to me while I worked. Our communication was challenged as we tried to work through some difficult differences.
During the heat of the conversation, I struggled with feelings of inadequacy as I recognized that I was not living the flawless plan I had created as a young woman with fairy tale dreams -- temple marriage, a perfect forever family, managing a household with expertise where peace and harmony exists. My girlhood dreams had been shattered and I was now living a reality that was far from those sugar plum visions.
Many times prior to this moment I had felt the disappointment of this emotion. So many times that I knew I was on the verge of a breakdown. It was no longer “if” but “when” that breakdown would occur.
Swirling around in my head and gripping at my heart were negative emotions of despair and anguish. Disorganization and fading memory tormented my mind. I longed to go back in time and relive my life as a “stay-at-home” mom.
This was the state of my mind when Asa arrived home from his four day Pioneer Trek excursion. He walked through the door and Ra smiled and welcomed him home. Asa was upset and said, “thanks for coming to the church” as he blew by me and into his room. I wasn’t sure what was wrong. I continued to busy myself with Saturday chores while Asa headed back out to the garage.
Ra came and said, “your son is out in the garage crying. You need to go talk to him.” I went out. Asa was lying on the floor of the garage. I sat in a chair and waited for him to speak.
“Why weren’t you there? We pulled the handcarts into the church parking lot. Everyone was happy and waving at us. I looked everywhere for you. You weren’t there. We went inside the church for breakfast. All the kids were with their families. I was alone. I kept asking when you were coming. The leaders just kept saying you would be there. You never came. I had to find a ride home.”
I looked at my son lying there in his dusty pioneer clothing, too exhausted to move, tears trickling down the side of his face. It was more than this mother’s broken heart could bare. I had reached that pinnacle point of distress.
I left the garage and walked calmly through the house and into my bathroom. I closed the door and fell to the cold floor. Tears began to flow. I dared not make a sound for fear of someone hearing that I was upset. Ra came to the door and asked me to open it. With reluctance I reached for the lock. I told him that it was completely unacceptable that I was not there for my son. I said, “I am so distracted by the daily turmoil of my life. There isn’t time to pay attention to the details. I should have been there. He expected me to be there and I wasn’t there.”
Ra closed the door. I lay down on the cold bathroom floor in fetal position and wept at the thought of my son searching for a mother who was not there.
Ra returned. “I’m taking you to the bed.” I objected but he persisted. He lifted my body. I was physically limp. I tried to walk but my legs would not hold me up. I fell to the bed and wept uncontrollably. Ra asked what he could do. I wanted darkness and covered my eyes. Ra tried to cover the window to make the room dark. I opened my eyes and looked around my room.
I saw things that I love -- pictures of my children, motherhood memories, knic knacs and flowers. And I thought, “I do not deserve any of this.” And I said, “I want darkness, please take me back to the bathroom.”
Ra made a bed for me on the floor, dragged me back to the bathroom and lay me on the floor. There was nothing more he could do. For three hours I lay in the dark of the bathroom sobbing in deep despair. Visions, hallucinations, physical pain like I have not experienced before; consumed my being. I was emotionally broken.
Asa where are you. I see you coming down the trail. You are smiling and excited thinking of your family waiting for you at the church. You reach the parking lot and your smile fades as you notice that your family is not there.
I cry out in anguish.
Inside the cultural hall you watch the joy in others as they are surrounded in the love of their family. You ask about your parents and you are told that they are coming. Everyone eats breakfast. You eat alone.
I weep.
Memories plaque my inner vision as I travel back in time. I turn my back on my children as I leave for work each day or choose to do anything that takes my focus away from them. A corkscrew of muddy darkness twists my soul. I am queasy with unyielding pain.
I cry out in agony.
I hear the voices of Asa and Hamilton in the other room. I want to get up. I want to continue on with the daily routine of my Saturday. My lips are dry and they hurt. The chapstick is there just above my head on the bathroom counter. I see myself reaching for it and going through the motion of running it on my lips.The physical distress is greater than my desire and I am too weak too move.
I am inadequate. Damaged. Torn. Inferior. I am insufficient. Unworthy. Misery consumes my soul.
I sob in grief.
How do I unwind the sorrow? How do I come back to a brighter place?
I see the face of my Savior. He speaks to me, “shush be still. Calm your soul. I am here beside you. Remember I have already suffered all of this. Embrace the reality of the atonement and feel my love for you. Place your sorrow in me and come to my light.” I see him coming closer to me. He lifts me to my feet and I fall into his arms.
The crying subsided. I came back into the present and began to feel physically uncomfortable. I recognized that laying on the bathroom floor was cold and painful. My will and physical strength returned. I stood and walked to my bed. I wanted to rest. Sleep came quickly.
Ra came into the room and woke me from my sleep. “Go and talk to your son. He’s sitting in the living room.” I went out to Asa, sat next to him and said nothing. Asa was the first to speak. “I love you mom.”
I apologized to Asa telling him I knew nothing about the reunion at the church. “If I had known I would’ve been there. I was just home doing household chores. I guess I didn’t read the paper. I just thought it was like a normal camp out and they would bring you home when you were done. I love you too Asa.”
A breakdown that came in a rush of negative emotion was crushed by the light of the Savior. The most peculiar pain I have experienced in my lifetime was combated by the comforting remembrance that the atoning sacrifice of my Savior must be applied. Light shattered the darkness and I was healed.
Girlhood dreams are simply innocent imaginations that in coming to pass will bring only fleeting happiness. Life must be filled with opposition so that we may be challenged in our growth. It is only through life’s experience that we learn the lessons which mold our destiny. Dream but dream reality and know that depth of sorrow will create eternal joy.
Wednesday October 10, 2018 - I have just reread this and remember vividly the depth of emotional pain. It was hours before I was able to rise to my feet and it was only possible because the Savior appeared and spoke to me through my third eye chakra. I think about this experience often. It is a grave and heartbreaking memory.
