The Booby Prize

The Booby Prize

I am a hot mess.

I don’t know what really caused it. Was it the kids walking in my room while I was on work calls? Was it the fact that my daughter wanted to have a conversation about race with me on my 10-minute break and she got pissed because I was not responding the way she wanted me to? Was it the fact that I am jealous of people getting brilliant ideas and I feel like I don’t? Is it because I have a sick dog and my son is pissed at me because he can’t bring his puppy over?  Is it that I feel like I am a sucky coach? Was it the kindness of Dr. K.? I don’t know. 

It is great to be with you and your presence, Dr. K. said. 

I was wearing my black leggings and white t-shirt, of course – my standard uniform. The room was filled with four chiropractic tables spaced six feet apart. The room had the feeling of being in an atrium. The back wall was filled with an assortment of plants. In the center of the wall was a wall fountain, making a beautiful sound. On the floor were a mix of oriental rugs that somehow seemed to work together. The ceiling was covered with billowing white sheets covering skylights. The table I lay on was warm from the sunlight. Lying down, I could see a dead bumble bee through the cutout hole in the table. And there was Dr. K with her long, wavy red hair and Gucci slippers. I always love seeing those shoes.

It is great to be seen by you, Dr. K.

And then I just started sobbing. Sobbing like I have never sobbed before. I could feel the pain below my heart and in my kidneys. I sobbed uncontrollably for 15 minutes. When It was time for me to go, I couldn’t.

I had to lie there for five more minutes to gather myself. When I got into my car, I continued to sob. I still didn’t know what the pain was. So off to Ace I went. My faucet needed a new end piece. It had become all clogged up. I knew exactly what it felt like. All these fragments block the flow of water. Something is blocking my understanding. I don’t know why I am so sad.

I want to call my friends, talk this out. I want to know. I want to understand and fix this. If only it could be as easy as going to Ace. Find the right piece and voilà.

Why couldn’t I be like a faucet?

I know I just need to feel this. It does feel like gunk from years past being cleaned out. Kind of like those big hairballs you clean out of a clogged sink.

It then occurs to me: I don’t feel respected by my kids. They don’t listen to me. They don’t clean up after themselves. I ask them to help me and they don’t. They walk into my work wanting what they want. I have to look up the etymology of respect. Why the hell I look up the etymology of words, I don’t know, but it is what I do.

Then I realize I have always wanted my family's respect. I have been wanting them “to regard, notice me with special attention.” And then it hits me like a ton of bricks.

I don’t feel love from my family.

Respect was the booby prize. If you couldn't feel love, you had to get respect. And then I saw it:

I don’t feel love…

I could go into the big story as to why and how come, but it is not really that interesting. Well at least not for this moment.

I don’t feel love in my family. I don’t know how to feel love in a family. I know how to armor up and be distant in family. I know how to not feel loved in family. I know how to not feel like I belong.

I don’t know how to feel loved and belong in a family.

This is a crazy thought, I don’t know.

Now the journey begins.