Today my feelings got hurt. When you are as ridiculously over-sensitive as I am it’s a pretty common occurrence. And often times what has been said was not meant in any way to be hurtful. I’m constantly worried people are mad at me, or worried I’ve offended people, or worried people don’t like me. It’s a big part of the self-loathing aspect of my anxiety problems. It consumes my thoughts, makes my throat burn, my stomach feel hollow, tears prick at my eyes. I mean it’s all so over the top it makes my eyes roll.
This afternoon when T got up from his nap I was still feeling pretty bruised and vulnerable. It got me thinking. Do you remember when you were a kid and something hurt your feelings? If you were anything like me you’d fantasize about being an adult because they had it all figured out. And for the first time I wondered how many times my mom nursed bruised feelings while caring for my sister and me while we were oblivious that something was hurting her.
T and I were sitting on the floor playing with his blocks. I’d ask him what a letter was and then I’d match it with a word, “C! C is for cookie!” or “G! G is for Grandma!” or “B! B is for Boy!” He brought me a block with the S facing up. He said, “S! S is for Mommy!” And my stupid hurt feelings evaporated. Replaced by how much I love this little person, how much joy he brings me, how lucky I am to spend every day with him.
When Z came home tonight I was telling him this story. And I added that I have a babysitter coming tomorrow for a few hours so I can run some errands. It’s getting harder for me to go to multiple places while lugging T around without those pesky contractions starting these days. I told Z I almost didn’t arrange the sitter. I feel like it’s a wasted day when she comes because I see so little of T. I told Z I missed T already even though he was right there with us. We only have four and a half weeks or so until we add another number to our crew. And then I started to cry. But as I explained to Z I wasn’t sad, I was just crazy and hormonal and grossly pregnant, and they were sort of happy tears. I’m lucky to love T and Z the way I love them. And that matters so much more than stupid hurt feelings.