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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