I have developed some deep seeded fears since I became a
mother. And they have been slowly but surely getting worse every single year. Exacerbated
even further once I became a mother a second time some nine years ago. Fuelled even
more once I surpassed my mother’s death age some five years ago.
And it was yesterday that I realised why. I have suspected the
reason for quite some time but nothing really confirmed it until then. We
decided to go bike riding as a family. Something we have not done for quite some
time. Because we have designated Sundays as our family day. A day without technology. Just us. We are redefining the way we spend
time with each other. Really spend time with each other. Not just in the same
space. But exploring together as well.
So we decided to bike ride together.
I have not been on a bicycle for several years. When my son
was first born I used to put him on the back of my bicycle and pedal with him in
his little seat. I remember the freedom I felt as the wind whistled past our
ears. As we explored together. Uninhibited by anything. And he loved every
minute of it. We loved every minute of it together. We would explore the Island just the two of us
pedalling away.
But for some reason after I had my daughter I lost my nerve
and packed my bike away. Today when we got the bikes out I tried to sit on the
saddle and immediately felt my greatest fear start to kick in- my fear of
heights and I started to tremble. I felt so high up off the ground. So wobbly.
So out of control. So I started to lose my nerve. To be afraid of riding my
bike. I had to talk to myself. Coax myself. Remind myself of how I used to zip
along the roads with my son safely in the back. Looking at him on his bike as a
growing young man some thirteen years later - so sure , so confident. Him wanting us all to go out as a family. I
decided to swallow my fears and just go with it.
I started very shakily at first. Braking for everything. Afraid
of hills, even the slightest one. Afraid of the bumps. Afraid of losing
control. Afraid of hurting myself or killing myself in front of my children. Afraid to let go. And suddenly it hit me like
a ton of bricks. My fears are exacerbated by the fact that I am a mother and I
have gone into self preservation mode. I don’t want anything to happen to me
because I feel like I’m on borrowed time. I suddenly realised that since I
passed my mother’s death age of 44, I have been afraid that my life could end
at any minute and I have been trying to do everything possible to preserve
myself so I don’t hurt my children as I was hurt when my mother died.
As thoughts raced through my mind. As I watched my family
getting their bike legs. Riding along like they had no care on the world. My
body trembling. I realised I had to let go. To surrender. To just do it so I could
take part in the joy my family was experiencing -riding on a picture perfect
Bermudaful day. And slowly I did. I let go. I surrendered and before I knew it,
I was flying along with them. The fear and trepidation lessened to concern that
we all enjoyed ourselves and got home safely. And we did. And all of us enjoyed
pedallling along as a family.
I felt proud of myself for letting go and for riding with my
family. Embracing that old sense of abandonment flowing through my veins as it
did many years before. Knowing that I can’t change fate and sometimes I just
have to enjoy the moment for what it is and be fully present in it rather than
worrying about what could be. All from a simple bike ride with my family.
Helping me to understand so much more about me. And for this lesson I am truly
grateful.
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