Emotional punch bag

I’ve realised I become an emotional punch bag when Popeye leaves.

I am the constant presence for our two daughters. The island in the changeable sea of their childhood.

I sit stoic and take the hits as wave after wave of raw 7 year old emotions crash down upon me.

Clumsy sentences, designed to hurt, are fired. I absorb the impact, hold my arms open, welcoming more.

Pour it out my darling. Pour your rage over your mamma. Pour it over me.

Hurt me to take away your hurt. I would take it all away if I could. Hurt me to take away your hurt.

Your pain that daddy keeps leaving, schools keep changing, friends are hard to find. We can’t see family as much. Life’s changing but I’m still here.

All this flotsam swirls around and stings you.

Wash it up on mammas shore little one.

My arms are open, waiting for when the fire fizzles out, turns to sobs.

When words you’ve said against me shock yourself, and you check if I’m still there.

I’m always here my love, always. I’m your mamma. I will never leave you.

I’m here little one. I’m here. Always.

3 thoughts on “Emotional punch bag

  1. So beautiful, so moving & So intuitively in synch with your beautiful daughter/s.
    Love you to the moon & back Olive. Keep up the good mamma work. What a great role model you are…..🥰👏🏻💯👍🏻Xxxooo

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That is really heave and very true. You have worded it beautifully.
      Huge respect and a hug to you. Stay strong for your little ones and I am sure you already know it, but don’t forget to care for yourself and your emotional needs too.

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s