Seriously? I have none. Absolutely none. And I have a baby. Am I being dramatic? I have some I suppose, but it’s gone in a flash. What brings on that impatience?
That voice in my head saying “I love you, Catanya” every time I get away from a task and I’m alone. Walking between meetings, catching the bus, waiting at the park. That voice calls me away from the present. Into my imagination. Reassuring me, confirming that I am loved. I was, in effect, telling myself that I was loved. That someone somewhere held me inside them, that someone was in this world with me.
My imagination was always my safe space. R raging, Mom raging. Dad completely disappearing (traveling for work my ass) I went to my room alone, Performed for my imaginary audience, received their applause, their praise, and adulation. So I trained myself that this inner space is the safest place to be. I suppose this is a classic response to trauma, no matter how big or small or perceived, always felt. And the feeling is what’s important here.
I don’t want D to have to retreat.
I need to stop retreating; It keeps me from being present. It impacts my patience.
There are two ways I can not be present: Working and Imagining. If I keep myself busy, I’m not focused on now. If I keep myself imagining, I’m not focused on now. I can no longer multi-task. No more getting things done when I’m with my baby girl.
But I need to be present with D. I can teach her how to imagine.