rage recovery for moms


During the concert I wrote about in my one of my last posts the band brought about a dozen people from the crowd onto the stage. I noticed one of them, a woman, right away. Something about her look, her clothes, her movement, her confident sexiness, her way of being.

She caught the eye of the guitarist, too. As the band played and the fans danced he paused mid-song and went over and said something in her ear. I imagined it was along the lines of, “I think you’re absolutely beautiful.” And maybe even, “I’d really like to talk to you. Come by room 542 later.”

Whether he said the last part or not, whatever it was it wasn’t a “I wanna fuck you” exchange. No, no. The boyishness of his response to her—the purity of his grin, the blushing of his cheeks—suggested he was smitten.

For a moment I was jealous. I wanted someone to look at me like that.

And then I remembered. . .

Two years into my relationship with my husband, then boyfriend, a friend, upon meeting him for the first time, commented that she could tell how much he loved me by the way he looked at me.

I imagine he looked at me just as the guitarist looked at the woman dancing on stage. All cute and boyish and pure-hearted.

What an honor to have ever been looked upon in such a way.

And what sadness that with the passing of the 15 years since and the increase in demands upon us, that look is long gone.

I shared this story with my husband. I told him I didn’t expect him to be different, to look at me as he once did—I have no control over that—but that it is now my intention to show up in such a way that the space will be there should he feel inspired to do so.

He dismissed it, implying my mission was unnecessary. I reiterated that I wasn’t expecting him to change. He said nothing more.

His comment was not personal. It was assurance that despite what had changed, his feelings had not.

Still, I’ve moved forward committed to bringing about a never-ending opportunity for him to give me “the look,” while remaining unattached to whether he does so or not.

This means acting consciously in our relationship. It means growing in who I can be as a partner. And maybe it even means being totally smitten with myself first.

coaching for moms


Similar posts
  • What Love Is Soon you’ll see your face red and twisted in the rearview mirror as you rage at your kids in the backseat. Soon you’ll try to ease the drudgery and relentlessness with Facebook and Irish Cream, but it will leave you more disconnected than you were before. Soon you’ll want to escape this life you can [...]
  • Because I Want My Husband to Change We can write from the wound or the scar. This is a lightly edited, self-coaching/journaling piece written from a (minor) wound of mine. This is where I am right now. This is real life. Even as I’m telling him he should interact differently with our kids I realize my hypocrisy. I’m criticizing him, feeling irked [...]
  • What to Do When Motherhood Leaves You... A newly birthed mother steps into a fire. It is a burning away of her old self in favor of a deeper, richer, more vibrant skin. It is the experience of her mother and her grandmothers. Her daughters, too, may one day live it. Sometimes, however, we moms get stuck in this otherwise temporary blaze. [...]
  • Why I Do What I Do Because we only get so many trips around the sun. That’s why. That’s why I do what I do both personally and professionally. You may have heard (or read) me mention this in regards to the death of my dad. Losing a parent and bumping up a place in the mortality line taught me that [...]
  • What Need Does Your Vote Express? What need does your vote express? Safety? Security? Personal power? Freedom? Validation? Your enemy’s vote–the one whose views are diametrically opposed to yours–expresses the same needs. You want the same things. The only difference is which road you think will take you there. Each vote expresses a need. Let’s listen. We can all help others feel heard. And work [...]

No Comments Yet

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Order My Book

Subscribe to the Blog