I am good at sleeping. After settling in to bed, pushing my pillow in to place beneath my neck, kissing my hubby goodnight and closing my eyes, the hamster jumps on to his wheel. He begins with a burst of energy as I process the events of the day and the anticipated thoughts of what awaits me the following morning. The random bits of information fly off in all directions, like sparks from the wheel. Gradually the hamster slows as sentence after sentence is purged (yes, I think in sentences - I am a very visual person), and what is left are the savory bits. The things that have stuck together during the day, forming sticky nuggets. These are the ones I love. Seemingly unrelated bits of my day that have come together and joined hands like skydivers in a circle. Often before I can even begin to understand why they are important as a group, I am asleep.
As I stand in the shower in the morning, letting the warm water push down from my head to the drain below, I realize that the answer came to me as I slept. Somehow, free of all the distractions of a typical day, my brain has done it's job and twisted and turned the nuggets, looked at them under bright and dim light, found the cracks and filled them and sculpted it into something I can recognize.
Last night as the hamster jumped on his wheel I was beginning to feel as though it is time for me to talk to my parents about something important. Something I have actively hid from both of them for decades. I wanted to come clean. While I superficially understood some of the timing of this, I fell asleep knowing that there was some deeper knowledge yet to be gained.
I awoke with the clear understanding that most of my life has been spent protecting others in one way or another. I have not chosen to keep certain things from my mother and father because I was afraid of their wrath, but because I did not want them to be hurt. I was afraid that if they knew certain things they would feel as though they had not done a good job as parents.
I will tell them in a simple, loving way that the choices I made were made with my full knowledge and consent. I believed at the time, and still maintain, that I was mature enough to handle certain situations without their assistance and do not regret any of the consequences of my decisions. I do not bear any bitterness or anger, nor did I at the time. I love my parents, but I feel that in order for them to fully know the person I am, they should know certain things about my past. I am slowly but surely getting out of the business of protecting those who do not need my protection. Wish me luck.
*Sorry to be so cryptic - I know that sometimes both my mother and father read my blog and I do not want them to read the details. But don't worry, I'll continue the saga here as soon as I can.