AC DC Thunderstruck

I did not start the day well today.

 

My practice of mindfulness brought forward from my meditation ‘mat’ into daily life, failed.

 

To me, mindfulness is the art of being able to watch, see, appreciate in order to be able to respond thoughtfully, rationally rather react emotionally and over react.  It starts with watching thoughts float through your mind and using your mind muscle to release them without letting them pull you into an emotional cyclone.  Studies have shown that people who practice mindfulness are also some of the most calm and rational people around, because they apply the same technique to life situations.

 

It did not apply to me this morning.

 

My smile on finding both boys dressed and in the kitchen before 7am on the final day of school, soon left my face as I saw Tom’s phone on the side, unlocked and with an app open for me to see.  The app was one I have vetoed, removed multiple times, explained it is inappropriate for his age and reprimanded him for his atrocious and aggressive behaviour after I have found him playing it illicitly.

 

It wasn’t just that it was on his phone but he had hidden the app in another folder.

 

Lies.  Deceit.  Uncovered on a phone.

 

Rather than respond rationally.  I over reacted.  It was not a happy goodbye and wave off to school this morning.

 

It was only later, I realised that I have been silently screaming.  While I was head down, sweat pouring down my nose, my chest and back, my legs pumping round and round as I cycled up a hill to the beat of ‘THUNDER’ by AC/DC, I could feel the rage flowing through my veins, stemming from my heart and meeting the irrational thoughts and images flowing from my head, clashing to the almighty thump of the drum and strum.

 

I found it easy to scream and shout at him when it all was all new, as I found out new pieces of hurtful, unimaginable information.  He was still the arrogant, vain, egotistical version of himself that I didn’t know or comprehend.  I could vent my anger and disbelief, allow the pain to throw daggers at him, hit him hard and hurt him.

 

And now, after 4 months, those daggers have taken their toll.  He is no longer ‘that man’.  So even while the hideous play-reel continues, I can no longer scream at a man who has been patient, loving, compassionate, kind, utterly remorseful and who looks older and tired and worn from the experience.  He has taken the blow of every double edged remark, barbed comment, low blow and the pain shows on his face, the hurt in his eyes, the stress in the grey hairs that weren’t there just a few months ago.

 

And so I am silently screaming inside.  My head shouting at me saying that he brought it on himself.  My heart pleading me to hold him and love him back.

 

And so my darling Tom got caught in the cross fires.  My innocent uncovering of a lie and virtual deception, hiding reality with secrets triggered a whole host of memories and knee weakening trauma.

 

The realisation shocked me and for now, the internal screams are silenced.  The play reel paused.  Instead I screamed at the pain in my thighs and let it all out in my towel!

 

screaming

 

 

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