Tarnished

My subconscious likes to spend its free time creating analogies that only half make sense, but seem to be attempts at trying to get my rational mind to accept and understand something my emotional mind has long ago figured out. Sometimes while I'm driving along or working I hear this distracting conversation leaking out of the darkness of my mind and it's my subconscious working on yet another analogy to work out something I'm struggling with. Such is what happened today.

On the way to Bubba's sensory integration/occupational/self-regulation/whatever-you-want-to-call-it therapy I was upset that Bubba refused to let me sing. This happens often:

"Mom, Kidz Bop 7."

I insert the requested CD, a song plays.

"Not this one!"

I pause for "nice words."

"Not this one please."

We repeat this through about 15 tracks until we get to the song.

Bubba loves to sing as do I. Bubba loves to shake it as do I. You'd think listening to music [no matter how crappy it is] would be something we could enjoy together.

Nope.

If he hears even a slight hum escape my lips, all heck breaks loose.

"NO SINGING MOMMY!!!!"

So I try to bop my head a little bit because the energy of the music has to come out somewhere.

"NO MOVING YOUR HEAD MOMMY. JUST DRIVE."

So I "just drive" because when Bubba is as agitated as he was today, it's just not worth the fight. And as Moosie kicks and squeals behind my seat in response to his brother's singing (or most likely due to me not singing), I contemplate this very thing... why can't Bubba and I even enjoy something like music together? And then the word "knot" comes to my conscious. And then the latest analogy from the darkness tumbles forward infiltrating my pouting.

This 'journey' I have embarked on is much like the knotted jewelry mess in my jewelry box. If you open my jewelry box, you'll find a rats nest of jewelry. One day long ago, Bubba and/or Moose discovered my jewelry box and days later I discovered they had discovered my jewelry box and vowed to pick through the mess.

I don't wear much jewelry anymore, so it hasn't been a priority, but I'm pretty sure in the mess I'd find shiny pieces, tarnished pieces, things I'd think would be worth something but aren't, things that look like junk but are worth some money. I'd also find some items, like my wedding ring, that are not perfect, but each imperfection, scratch, and ding stand for so much that the items could never be tossed or replaced.

I wouldn't come to these realizations suddenly. It would be gradual. I would spend hours picking through knots of gold and silver chain wrapped around lockets and stones. It would be tedious, frustrating, sometimes rewarding, sometimes emotional such as when I finger an old ring of my mom's or accidentally snap a necklace that Hubby gave to me in high school. Each piece would have its story, I would remember each story, chronicled by the buried, tangled evidence.

Most importantly, if I would go through my knotted jewelry, it would not be without casualty and reflection and not without realization that the next day it could all end up in a knotted pile once again.

So I continue on my journey, as I discover, make mistakes, dive in and detangle myself from the mess, sometimes getting caught up in the shiny things and other times overlooking them, sometimes becoming overwhelmed by the tarnished items and other times ignoring them, sometimes enjoying the process while other times just hoping that this newest knot would be the last one as I am tiring...but the treasure revealed is enough to keep me going.

I told you my analogies only half make sense.