To bow to you

Some nights, I am filled with resistance. I feel it tugging at me as my 5 year old autistic son pushes back the world hard as the day nears to an end and he is weary of it. I am weary too and each request he makes of me feels like he is cornering me and berating me for everything I do wrong.

The resistance has a voice that barks harsh ideas in my head. He’s doing this on purpose. I can’t take one more thing. I am close to losing it. Why does it all have to be so hard? Each thought feeds the resistance until I have full blown aversion and then all I can do is hold on tight and try not to let it roar out of me. It has done before. It hurls nastiness and covers everything in a thick cloud of pollution that will make a film on the surface of our skins.

Tonight, I found the pause button between feeling and reacting. I stayed with the feeling and let the thoughts float away before giving them power. They are the story that adds fuel to the fire and none of us needs a fire at days end. I heard them, those familiar taunts, and saw how ugly and useless they were. I saw how they didn’t tell the true story. They storified my feelings and wanted to make a movie all about me and my big, hard life.

I didn’t believe them. I saw them for what they were. Instead, I stayed with the feeling of resistance. I found it in my balled up stomach muscles, tightened as if I was about to be punched by life. I found it in my throat, closing up hard to keep out a full breath. I felt it hot inside me, spreading over all the other feelings so I couldn’t feel that they were present too.

Feelings like love. Like joy. Like gratitude for another night with my boy, safe sleeping at my side.

Resistance is only a part of my story as a mother. Sometimes, it is a strong part and that is true. But I won’t build it bigger by following the thoughts that make it louder and ultimately lead to damage.

Instead, I name the feeling when it comes. There is resistance. There is aversion to having to do another task that makes no sense to me.

I feel the feeling in my body. There is heat and hardness and contraction. I stay there, feeling what I feel and not adding to it with toxic thought bubbles.

I make it through without flinging hurt around me. Without judging my son for behaviours that I don’t fully understand.

Lying next to him listening to his soft breathing as he sleeps at last, I don’t bother with those thoughts and not bothering with them allows them to float away from me faster than they would have done if I’d given them voice.

I feel the resistance and it is waning. I breathe into the spaces it occupied and notice that they are loosening their grip. All that is left is a residue.

Resistance will come again and that is true. I will feel it and let it leave and when it is gone, I will return to breathing next to you.

I will try to see the many tasks that you need me to do that I don’t understand as opportunities to show my love to you – to serve you – to bow to you.

1 reply
  1. tahrey
    tahrey says:


    Seems like you've discovered one key skill of meditation all for yourself … developing sufficient reflection that you can identify the thoughts and feelings you have, rather than simply experiencing them in a mindless way… and that allows you to step outside of the flow of pure experience that they suck you into, and let them slip away, observed but not clung to, allowing peace to reign once more.


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