I lost it last week.
I was overwhelmed. I was tired. Only the bra I HATE was clean. You know. The usual litany. And I just completely lost it.
Not at my kids.
At my husband.
In front of my kids, though, so that was cool.
Whatever the yelling version is of the Ugly Cry, that’s what I did. It was like being 13 again with a tiny kernel of Rational buried inside but powerless to stop the Insanity Train from crashing through the kitchen. Rational kept watch with wide eyes, though, shaking her head and muttering, “The?”
I found a better bra, and I apologized later. My kids got a lengthy apology, complete with what I should’ve done differently. Greg got a barely murmured “sorry” which I’m not proud of but felt like the best I could do. I’m working on it. And, by “working on it,” I mostly mean I’m alternating between being ashamed and practicing defensive indignation.
Imperfection, I am thy servant.
My point is, thank God it’s Spring. Thank God. And not because Spring is beautiful or April showers bring May flowers or any pretty crap like that.
I mean, yes, the cherry trees are blooming outside my window. And yes, they’re snowing blossoms in my backyard. And yes, this is my favorite time of the year. And yes, it smells like earth and joy after the rain.
But no. That’s not it at all.
Thank God it’s Spring because I am a seed.
I am a seed, and the seed, from the seed’s perspective, is totally pathetic. The seed, you see, is stuck in the dark with dirt closing in on all sides. The seed is cold. The seed doesn’t like it when it rains. And the seed is pretty sure — pretty positive at times — that she’s breaking apart, all to pieces.
The thing about the seed? She’s not wrong. She’s not wrong, but her perspective is wonky, you know. ‘Cause she lives from the inside looking out, consumed by her point of view.
But the seed from the outside looking in? She’s FULL. Which Spring reminds me.
The seed is full of life.
Full of grace.
Full of growth.
Full of power and potential and strength.
And the seed almost never believes it, but she’s full to overflowing. So full, in fact, that she’s splitting apart. Coming literally undone. Which, it turns out, is her job. Even sitting in fertilizer of her own making.
Because that seed? It’s Spring, and she is rising up to become a tree.
If you’re stuck, deep in the ground, I suggest you crank this sucker all the way up and put it on repeat.
I Am a Seed
David Crowder Band
Oh, I’ve been pushed down into the ground.
Oh, how I’ve been trampled down.
So many feet on top of me.
I can’t help but sink, sink, sink.
Oh, I am a seed.
Oh, I am a seed.
Yeah, I’ve been pushed down into the ground.
But I will rise up a tree.
You’re invited (*ahem*) to share your own fertilizer moments in the comments below.
Telling the truth is one of my favorite things we do here.
Welcome to the mess.
25 responses to “I Am a Seed”
[…] becoming crackly and brittle, falling to the earth, waiting in the darkness, sitting in the mud, pushing against the dirt and, eventually, straining again toward the […]
I stumbled upon your blog today. I just have to say that You are an amazing woman! You are hilarious! You make me feel like everything is going to be OK! You see, even though intellectually I know everything will be OK – most of the time it does not feel that way. The guilt, the shame, the doubt, the inability to forgive myself…..especially when I am having one of those “out of body” experiences that you described in this post! Really, that is what it feels like – invasion of the body snatchers. Your writing is so very real, so very honest, and so very necessary.
I am one of the most positive people I know and parenthood is kicking me right in the tuckus! I am grateful – every day for my kids, my husband, my life but that still does not diminish my struggle (because that is what it feels like most days) to be a parent. I use to go to bed almost every night thinking about how I could have done things better, feeling guilty about something, but now that I have been at this parenting thing for several years; I go to bed reminding myself that I am imperfect and that this is all part of the process. I keep telling myself to keep moving forward, reminding myself to be present and patient – but lady, that is not an easy task!
I NEVER knew that parenthood could feel so isolating. I always knew that parenthood was emotionally draining but NEVER realized what kind of toll it truly takes on your body, mind and soul – until I had kids.
I don’t usually spend time on blogs or comments but I just have to take my hat off to you! Thank you for sharing your story! Thank you!
Hmm, you’re good. You’re g-o-o-o-o-d! Thanks for making my heart feel a little less fragile, my head feel a little less crazy, and my home feel a little more normal. Love your blog and read silently from the sidelines…but this required a response. And, you should know, your 20 Things Every Parent Should Hear…rocked my face off. Thank you!!
I have another for you. This was partially inspired by your tag “Are We There Yet?” I so love & appreciate your writing.
Wow, I needed that this morning after completely breaking down yesterday. We bought a new car with a manual transmission and my husband is teaching me to drive it. After stalling out over 4 times in less than 100 feet, I broke down and yelled at him. Poor guy. I had asked him to teach me and then I turn around and go ballistic on him.
Yes! This post is totally appropriate for me as well. I totally lost my sh!t on my just turned two year old yesterday, and I am pretty sure that I broke her little heart. I felt, and still feel awful about it. Thank you for sharing your story with us. It makes me feel better to know I am not the only one who has bad moments (even though sometimes I feel like it).
Aw. Love to you and your little one, Tina. Those times are tough. I’ve had to tell my kids I was wrong and apologize so many times. This life… it’s a learning process, isn’t it? We all wish we didn’t have to learn by hurting those we love… we want to be perfect for them and somehow can’t manage it. Which always just bites. xo, mama
To all of you all I can say is you’re going to miss this and want it back!
I believe you, Belle. There are times I’m with my kids, drinking it in, and I miss it already.
Your posts always come at the most appropriate time. You must have ESP, I swear! I lost it on my 3 year old today. We’re both tired, it’s cool & overcast out, she was moping around with her blankie & I took it away & then she threw a fit. And then I threw mine. Definitely needed this today. Thanks for again showing we are not alone in this.
Aw. Thanks, Bridgette. Sending love to you and your 3yo. xo
Oh man…. so, so many. I think it’s best to share a link, since the full story is too long… but this is a really good one. THANK YOU for the post. I am splitting apart at the seams.
Thank you for sharing your story, Chelsea. That’s an amazing, terrible, gorgeous story. Like life. And truth. xoxo
Thank YOU! I resonated so much with your post. I am beginning to feel the roots growing out tenderly in all directions, and the sunlight begging me to peek up out of the darkness. 🙂 I so appreciate your humor and your honesty. Thanks you for taking the time to read my story, too.
I just stumbled on this song that was really lovely. Have you heard “Becoming” by April McLean?
I slammed the door on my three year old today, while he sat grinning in the hall after mischievously pulling every piece of clothing off the shelves he could reach in my closet. I slammed the door because I was so mad and I wanted him to know he was in big time trouble but I didn’t dare do anything else. And while I was cooling off, he got into his chocolate easter candy stash. I found him and calmly told him to spit it out, because he can not have candy before breakfast. He complied, thankfully. I got him situated with his breakfast and went to get dressed. I came back to find him without his pj bottoms. They were in the middle of the back yard. Sigh. Really? Why must you push every button in my body today, sweet son that I cherish? And right now, as I type, he is waiting for me at preschool. He had an accident that I must go take care of. Mercy.
Love to you, R.
What a beautiful description. I often feel like I am being split apart. Hopefully it is just part of the growing process.
I believe it is, MaryBeth. I do believe it is.
It must be the time of year for that sort of behaviour as I very nearly ruined a lovely (rare) evening with my husband yesterday, while our children are away with my parents, by my spoilt-child-at-a-picnic impression. No idea where it came from – I too had a flashback to my teenage years where the shouty cry-ey insane person took over. My brave husband managed to salvage the evening with Chinese food and a DVD box set and things are ok now. Also, we are benefiting from the indignant housework and angry baking which took place during my strop.
I’m glad you told me about being a seed and fertiliser moments and everything, it gives a bit of meaning to the whole incident.
Indignant housework and angry baking? I must erase this comment before Greg gets wind of such things. He’s more accustomed to my angry bath-taking. 😉
I’m pretty sure I just heard you say I’m right all the time and I should tell my husband that and I should also stop wearing bras.
Since that’s exactly where my head went first maybe this is my fertilizer moment.
Ha! Good luck with that, Heather. 🙂
Ok, you got me all teary eyed, inspired, validated and just full of faith, hope and joy. Sounds like a job for a Sunday morning, but it is awesome to experience on a Mon afternoon also! Thank you for this, Beth! We will rise up trees!