Observing. Listening.

I'm watching Leena run around in the yard. In her bathing suit. Chasing dragonflies and picking flowers. I am not a perfect mother by any means and lately I've been at a loss on how to parent her wildly untamed soul. As she smears berries from the yard all over the outside of my studio window I realize I never want her to feel her beautiful free spirit breaking. To know that pain. I never want that. And I have to be honest with myself and look into the mirror because lately in my own exhaustion of life and impatience I've been the one breaking her. Slowly.  

Giving her a set of rules to live by as if they'll somehow be the key to order amongst the chaos in this world. I'm feeling out of control so I try to feel a bit of power by being in control of her. I've listened to so much unwanted advice on how to parent her. Knowing deep down it wasn't right for her, I tried anyways. I didn't listen to my intuition. And I have days where I cry on the floor feeling as if I've dulled her.  

She is a rainbow. She's one fiery gal with energy to spare. At night, as we crawl into bed, she can't still her body. She wiggles and moves. She spasms and talks. She is always talking. And sometimes I hear my mind screaming for a break. But why? Why do I want her to stop talking? Why do I want her to stop asking questions? 

It's true. I don't know how to be the best parent for Leena. I am confused as to how to work with her, through her pain. Her pain of losing friends and trusts being broken. The pain of feeling all her emotions all at the same time, with so much ferocity and intensity at times that it is frightening. She is a child that feels others emotions with every fiber of her being. And it manifests in anger and the inability to control her body. With kicking and screaming. Without even knowing why.

She also loves deeply. She is so beautifully sweet and caring. Watching out and loving on the world around her. On mother nature. On perfect strangers. She trusts to the point of recklessness because she has not yet learned, and I'm not sure I want her to, that some people do not have your best interests in mind.

I'm learning from her. From watching her. From figuring out the puzzle of parenting her.

While dealing with my emotions and hurts, broken trusts and pain, I find myself struggling. And realizing there is more of a lesson here for me than for her. She's teaching me about the world. She's teaching me about letting go. About moving on and bouncing back, because lord knows she doesn't stay down long.  

And it's time for me to pick myself back up. Because there is an answer waiting. The answer is me. Fully present. Living recklessly. Loving without abandon. And always getting back up. 

My little spirited one, she always gets back up.  

Katelyn