Ghostbusters

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You woke up this morning fascinated with your own tongue. I know this because all day you have been sticking it out and trying to talk at the same time. You even love waiting until I go in for a big kiss on the mouth, then you push it up against my lips, it’s super juicy then.

I don’t have much to say, I am exhausted from all the changes, moving and traveling and going back to work. It is so much, so very very much.

I recently had to make a very big decision in my life and it felt like a break-up with someone I care about very much. But I guess part of becoming a family is that I have to put the needs of us as a whole before my own, and this is a lesson I am learning the hard way. I have to trust that all is as it should be and you know what, it always is.

Your Dad is dozing next to me on the sofa right now, slightly snoring. I don’t think he’s going to make it through the screener we have, The Artist. It’s basically a modern silent film. Not much of an adrenaline shot there.

I had a mini meltdown the other night. I guess you should know. I was convinced the house was haunted when we heard a couple of thumps and couldn’t open a closet door. I stood there frozen in fear crying while your Dad told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to be strong for you. That I couldn’t breastfeed you like that, that you would sense my fear and it would scare you. I did my best to pull it together but did a crappy job of merely masking intense anxiety. I felt so unsafe. I have post traumatic stress from a ‘haunting’ of my childhood. It gets triggered by the slightest silliest little things, but those things seem so real to my little child brain ,causing my adult brain to react irrationally. I burned sage until your Dad begged me not to and sang Paramahansa Yogananda’s lullabies all day in the house, but still the gnawing aching fear wouldn’t go away. Before scheduling an exorcism I called my dear friend and mediation teacher, Jessica, begging her for some tangible tools. She gave me a truck load. First of all, she asked me what was going on in my life that might be scaring me. I told her I was considering switching sponsors, going back to work, in a new house. She said those were very valid fears. Phew. Not so crazy, right? And that when we get scared like that sometimes we go to the supernatural or astrological or paranormal to focus our attention on. That somehow that spooky stuff helps us make sense of our big feelings. Then she asked me to try three different meditation techniques when the fear came up again. 1) focus on image, talk, and feel. 2) focus on positive. and 3) realize that there was a ‘witness’ to all of this and this witness was bigger than me, than the ‘ghost’ than anything there was, in fact, it was all there was and is. Call it what you want, but it is everything and it is me as well.

I tried it and it worked immediately to relieve the edge, primarily.

Then I emailed our landlord and asked him if his house was haunted.

He said no, the heater is old and it creaks and groans, not to mention the house, which settles and moans. There are no ghosts, he assured me. Only lathe and plaster.

Your Dad laughed at me.

But I feel a hell of a lot better now.

I love our house. I love our life. And I love you most of all, Pony P.

Love, your wacky mom.

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