well, that, I think, is the longest I have cried so hard...on and off for about 2 hours. my eyes are so swollen, I can hardly open them. And it doesn't matter if I feel like I can be strong enough, like I can get through this. I have to be. Encourage me all you want...I will still have to roll in mud and shit and find the strength to build my own shower, ground up...learn about plumbing, find the materials, tools, placement...do the work, fix the errors, redo the work...all while the kids scream for my attention, and I have to do every damn chore in the house!!!!
No...too much. When do I get to play my "help me please card"...or rather my "help me just a little with EVERYTHING for, well EVERY DAY, for let's see...the FORESEEABLE FUTURE card"??? Oh, that card doesn't exist. I see. Well, fuck you very much, she said to Cancer who robbed her of her future, her love, her hope...
yes. that.
And now I have to find a way to relax and rest, wake up in seven hours and do it all over again. and again and again and again. fucking awesome.
just sayin
notes and thoughts from a widow and mother of three
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
please don't judge me...widows mess up too
THIS ONE IS NOT REALLY FOR MY SCHOOL FRIENDS…IF YOU CHOOSE
TO READ THIS, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT JUDGE ME. NOT THAT I THINK YOU DO. I’M JUST AFRAID YOU MIGHT AFTER READING THIS.
Everything hurts.
Everyone leaves and dies and nothing ends up like you thought it should
be. I can’t believe what I did with NO
NAME GUY*. He does have
great laugh and smile. And he is married
married married for thirteen years married and I went beyond online flirting
with him, and wanted him to fall in love with me. I wish he would show up at my door, suitcase
in hand telling me he left his wife. I
wish he would worship my body and my heart forever…he made me feel alive and
beautiful and hopeful and sexy and interesting…and wrong…and I hate that I am
thinking of him and wondering how much of my thoughts about him are my attempt
at hiding from thoughts about John. I hate
everything right now. I wish I could get
sucked into a vortex. I wish someone
would come and save me. I wish I actually believed in wishes. Or saving. I want john back. Even cancer wasn’t this complicated. I hate and I hate and I hate and that is just
a waste of energy…no point in hating and I can’t stop. I hate everyone who is happy, everyone who
has never felt love, everyone who still has it, I hate people who think they
understand my grief because their mother or father died…JOHN. WAS. MY. LIFE. He was my future, my hope, my best friend, my
lover, my rock, my sweetheart…where he was, there is now nothing.
I thought I was a torn and tattered painting that had once
been beautiful. I am not. I am a once vibrant canvass, drained of
color, singed, scorched beyond recognition.
My smile is so fake right now. My son makes my heat melt, but my smile is
still fake. And it fades so fast. And it hurts my face, in a gentle, irritating
way. My idiotic, selfish interactions
with NO NAME* made me smile.
I hate everything. I
hate myself. I hate cancer. I hate hope and love and dreams. I hate laughter and I hate flirting. I hate breathing and sunshine and
butterflies.
I feel selfish and short sighted and foolish and broken and
clueless and immature and at least partly beyond hope.
Ssssssssssstttttttttttttttttttttttuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuppppppppppppppppppppiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiidddddddddddd
I hate hate haate hate everything
Everything hurts. And
NO NAME* made it stop for a little. And
I want him back. And I am glad I blocked
him. And I hate everything. And SOME GUY* even texted me tonight. Heavy pain loneliness shit and bad things and
loss and emptiness……Oh yeah, and fear…can’t forget that.
*names have been changed to protect
the innocent, as well as the not so innocent…not my job to throw stones,
because if they were being thrown, I’d be hit too. Deservedly
One down, the rest of my life to go...
First day done. I cried four times before 11:00. Two times, the tears were tiny; more like moisture on the tips of my lashes, spilling only slightly. The other two times, I lost control. First I had to walk outside for a minute and try to cool down, calm down, regulate my breathing. Then I saw my old teammate from 5th grade. I always wanted to be actual friends with her. We were on our way last year, but it seems to have fizzed, at least for now. But we have shared a lot over the years, listened, supported, encouraged, and had quite a bit of fun. And she was at my wedding, and she knew John pretty well. And I crumbled when I saw her. I just wanted to hug her and cry on her shoulder till I was empty. But I stopped after a very brief moment and was able to get back to the meeting.
Then, there were two more tiny episodes, quiet, more moisture. And one more set of near-sobs. I got a card and a note from a wonderfully neat co-worker. Her words were so simple, kind, supportive, and loving...I wanted to sit in the corner of my room and rock like a baby. I let myself have a moment, and then I got back to work. Putting music on helped, Toad The Wet Sprocket, Lenka, and Adele today...
My room is still a mess, but I got my whole word wall up, my two favorite posters up (one says my favorite flower is dandelions because they refuse to stop growing, and the other says you miss 100% of the shots you don't take), a smattering of other things on the walls, and started to organize empty containers, teacher materials, and text books.
I feel like I ran five miles, spent an hour cleaning the house, wrestled with a bear or two, and then punched myself in the head for twenty minutes. Or something similar. And now the kids have hot dogs and gold fish, squeezers, V8 Fusion and WhoNu cookies, and are sitting in front of the t.v. so that I can find some semblance of strength/energy to get them bathed and in bed soon. I don't know WHAT I will do when homework starts trickling in!
I could write more right now, but there is literally too much...I just wanted to document that I made it through...
Then, there were two more tiny episodes, quiet, more moisture. And one more set of near-sobs. I got a card and a note from a wonderfully neat co-worker. Her words were so simple, kind, supportive, and loving...I wanted to sit in the corner of my room and rock like a baby. I let myself have a moment, and then I got back to work. Putting music on helped, Toad The Wet Sprocket, Lenka, and Adele today...
My room is still a mess, but I got my whole word wall up, my two favorite posters up (one says my favorite flower is dandelions because they refuse to stop growing, and the other says you miss 100% of the shots you don't take), a smattering of other things on the walls, and started to organize empty containers, teacher materials, and text books.
I feel like I ran five miles, spent an hour cleaning the house, wrestled with a bear or two, and then punched myself in the head for twenty minutes. Or something similar. And now the kids have hot dogs and gold fish, squeezers, V8 Fusion and WhoNu cookies, and are sitting in front of the t.v. so that I can find some semblance of strength/energy to get them bathed and in bed soon. I don't know WHAT I will do when homework starts trickling in!
I could write more right now, but there is literally too much...I just wanted to document that I made it through...
Monday, August 12, 2013
Orbs
I am so scared right now. I am exhausted. I am numb. I can't smile. I keep looking around at things and I know my face is blank, my lips closed as I breathe through my nose. My vision is perhaps 3 or 4 mm over the edge into blurry. I snapped at the kids so much tonight, but I did keep apologizing and telling them how scared I am about going back to work tomorrow. Aiden agreed with me when I said I figured they wouldn't understand my fear, and asked if I was worried about there being "mean teachers". Ha! No.
But when I enter those doors tomorrow morning, I will truly begin to see the changes that have begun behind the curtains. Once I enter that building on a regular work day, there is no way to imagine things as any different than they are. And each pair of eyes that have known me for years will look at me with pity and tenderness, fear and pain...and I wonder if I will cry. And I worry about staying focused. I want to know what I am doing. I'm glad it's a job that is nonstop, all day. Because time will pass. I'm glad it is not just a job, but a part of me, because that will help me keep smiling and doing my best. There is no motivation better than loving what you do.
But I keep thinking that I am just a hollow woman. I am a facade of what I was, some badly patched together imitation of who I think should be walking and talking from where I stand...at least it is just a teacher work day...I don't have to get dressed up, I don't have to be planned yet, or be "on stage"...
An old friend told me his favorite book today is Infinite Jest. So I read the reviews and figured I'd give it a try. The foreword was a bit intimidating, talking about how it is not an easy read, but packed with language and thought provoking and worth every extra moment of thought it creates...but how can you not give it a try when the Book Description on Amazon begins "A gargantuan, mind-altering comedy about the Pursuit of Happiness in America set in an addicts' halfway house and a tennis academy, and featuring the most endearingly screwed-up family to come along in recent fiction"?? I thought,damn, that is what I need...something to read at night that forces me out of my head, makes me work, makes me laugh...maybe this will be a good distraction for me.
And Choir starts on Wednesday!!! I am very excited for that...the new director has offered to come 30 minutes early to work with people who want to improve their voices...I would love it if I could sing a song myself at church someday...
The phrases "young widow" and "single mom" keep banging around the inside of my head though. Those things make it hard to focus on anything...so I try to combat them by reminding myself I am also a warrior. I am powerful, playful, compassionate, and curious...I absolutely KNOW I have it in me to get through this. But that doesn't chase away the fear or the loneliness. It doesn't stop me from feeling like the color is draining out of my heart, leaving the invisible center parts of me translucent while a white hot light builds and burns and grows to the point where everything inside of me explodes in tiny fragments of light energy, leaving me a hollow shell...and then I wonder if maybe my lights will be like boomerangs...maybe I will explode and shatter, but maybe, after a bit, my tiny orbs will come back to fill me again.
But when I enter those doors tomorrow morning, I will truly begin to see the changes that have begun behind the curtains. Once I enter that building on a regular work day, there is no way to imagine things as any different than they are. And each pair of eyes that have known me for years will look at me with pity and tenderness, fear and pain...and I wonder if I will cry. And I worry about staying focused. I want to know what I am doing. I'm glad it's a job that is nonstop, all day. Because time will pass. I'm glad it is not just a job, but a part of me, because that will help me keep smiling and doing my best. There is no motivation better than loving what you do.
But I keep thinking that I am just a hollow woman. I am a facade of what I was, some badly patched together imitation of who I think should be walking and talking from where I stand...at least it is just a teacher work day...I don't have to get dressed up, I don't have to be planned yet, or be "on stage"...
An old friend told me his favorite book today is Infinite Jest. So I read the reviews and figured I'd give it a try. The foreword was a bit intimidating, talking about how it is not an easy read, but packed with language and thought provoking and worth every extra moment of thought it creates...but how can you not give it a try when the Book Description on Amazon begins "A gargantuan, mind-altering comedy about the Pursuit of Happiness in America set in an addicts' halfway house and a tennis academy, and featuring the most endearingly screwed-up family to come along in recent fiction"?? I thought,damn, that is what I need...something to read at night that forces me out of my head, makes me work, makes me laugh...maybe this will be a good distraction for me.
And Choir starts on Wednesday!!! I am very excited for that...the new director has offered to come 30 minutes early to work with people who want to improve their voices...I would love it if I could sing a song myself at church someday...
The phrases "young widow" and "single mom" keep banging around the inside of my head though. Those things make it hard to focus on anything...so I try to combat them by reminding myself I am also a warrior. I am powerful, playful, compassionate, and curious...I absolutely KNOW I have it in me to get through this. But that doesn't chase away the fear or the loneliness. It doesn't stop me from feeling like the color is draining out of my heart, leaving the invisible center parts of me translucent while a white hot light builds and burns and grows to the point where everything inside of me explodes in tiny fragments of light energy, leaving me a hollow shell...and then I wonder if maybe my lights will be like boomerangs...maybe I will explode and shatter, but maybe, after a bit, my tiny orbs will come back to fill me again.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Right and wrong and moving forward
I think I may have posted about my loathing for the word "fair"...I am fine with "fair skinned" and with county "fairs", but I think the idea of things being "fair" is a concept people fabricated to make sure that they could get more or complain when they felt they weren't getting enough. It doesn't really actually help anyone. John used to talk about how, when he was a kid, they would play baseball a lot in his neighborhood. They would make the teams based on ability and not worry if one team that had better players had fewer kids on it...and everyone was happy with the way they divided things. Until along came an adult and tried to make things "fair" and redid the teams with equal numbers, leaving virtually no one happy.
It is not "fair" that those young babies died, that cancer even exists, that mean people have more and better stuff than nice ones, that your family is nicer than mine, that disease and alcoholism and seizures and cavities exist. Fair is crap. Stop talking about it. It just messes up everyone who tries to fight for it. Fight for honesty, happiness, compassion, kindness, justice, harmony...those things make sense. Life is not a bowl of cherries- it's a bowl of crap cake. But you can see and feel and smell and experience all sorts of beautiful, amazing, fun, thought provoking, loving, mind blowing things while soaking in the crap bowl. You just can't ever get out of it. Neither can anyone else, though. Even those people that seem to have better and more stuff, the girl or guy of their dreams, the more supportive family...we are all living in our own crap cake bowl.
And this is where I start wondering about Right and Wrong and Good and Bad. There are certain things I think are just bad: murder and rape, for example. Definitely bad. Cancer. Bad. Death camps and Nazi's- bad. But I think of a friend whose husband cheated on her. And I used to think about how awful that was. But I never liked her husband, not even back when they were just dating. I kept my opinion to myself because they seemed okay. But I don't know, now, how to judge if it was right or wrong that they got married in the first place- they have a beautiful child together and that child wouldn't exist if they hadn't gotten together. So I think about if it was good or bad, right or wrong that he cheated and they divorced. He didn't treat her that well, was often demeaning, and now, she has a guy that seems fantastic. So, really, wouldn't it have been more wrong for them to stay together? Even my parents splitting up- if that hadn't happened, I wouldn't have my awesome sister...so how could their divorce have been wrong? Or bad? Even with all the pain it caused. It's all just too intertwined.
I feel like the only thing that matters is helping to ease someone's journey here. But how do you decide who needs more help? What if, in trying to ease one person's pain and sorrow, you hurt another person? Was it wrong to try to help in the first place? I just think it is too complicated to judge. At least some of the time. Perhaps more often than we would like to admit. It's like the tattoo on my back:
I chose this symbol mostly because of the duality within it...the warning against "back biting", which I usually describe as "betrayal", but the simultaneous need for forgiveness...if you do something to someone else in malice, with the intent to hurt or break or ruin, that is different than if you are doing something that feels right to you, that gives you hope and lifts you up, but hurts someone else by accident. Recognizing that is hard, but important. I feel like there were ways in which John hurt me, but there was never ever a time when he intended anything but love. I worry that as I feel the desire in my heart to move on, people around me won't understand, to varying degrees...I will feel like I am betraying him, our love, our marriage, our kids. But I know that isn't true. And when I think about dating, at 40 years old (this December, baby!), I think about the guys that are out there...do I even want to date someone who has never been married, been single this long? Do I want someone divorced? What if they cheated and that is what broke their marriage? Is it true, once a cheater always a cheater? Do I want a widower? Someone who knows the pain of loss; losing the story you had hoped would be and needing to build another?
Not looking for love is not an option. John and I talked about that. He was NOT happy with the idea at first. And then we had my counselor here and I told him that never dating after he is gone would mean that I would basically have to choose the path my grandmother and mother traversed. Both were divorced at moderately young ages, and neither ever dated again. Ever. My parents were divorced when I was six. My mom died when I was pregnant with Aiden. I remember, perhaps in high school, her saying that she hadn't had sex in so long, she was a virgin again. TMI, I know, but that was how my mom rolled with me...what can I say? I told John that if that is what he wanted, I would do it, for him. Then I held my breath, silently begging him to understand. He paused, frowned, and sighed his release...no. He told me he did not want that for me.
But here is the difficulty: no matter who comes next, if time and space could be bent to allow it, I would always choose John. Because to not choose him is like saying I am glad the cancer took him. Which will NEVER be true. For eight million reasons. So how do I expect someone to love me and embrace me, when there is this part of my heart that will always be John's? Who actually has a heart big enough to do that? And wouldn't committing to that person, knowing that John is and will always be my first choice, isn't that wrong? And of course, there is the horrible thought that intrudes, saying that maybe I will find someone better...someone who dances, who likes Thai food, that let's me talk more...But how can they be better, even with those things, than the guy who hid my keys. We fought and I was ready to leave, but couldn't. He had hidden my keys. He taught me how to face those scary things, talk about them, and end up cuddling and kissing. I had never done that. He was the only one who could have gotten me there. You can't get better than that.
And yet, I have to try. Because that is moving forward. And I want to. And I know I shouldn't worry about the nature of that need, because it is what it is...but how can that be right? Even though I know it's not wrong.
It is not "fair" that those young babies died, that cancer even exists, that mean people have more and better stuff than nice ones, that your family is nicer than mine, that disease and alcoholism and seizures and cavities exist. Fair is crap. Stop talking about it. It just messes up everyone who tries to fight for it. Fight for honesty, happiness, compassion, kindness, justice, harmony...those things make sense. Life is not a bowl of cherries- it's a bowl of crap cake. But you can see and feel and smell and experience all sorts of beautiful, amazing, fun, thought provoking, loving, mind blowing things while soaking in the crap bowl. You just can't ever get out of it. Neither can anyone else, though. Even those people that seem to have better and more stuff, the girl or guy of their dreams, the more supportive family...we are all living in our own crap cake bowl.
And this is where I start wondering about Right and Wrong and Good and Bad. There are certain things I think are just bad: murder and rape, for example. Definitely bad. Cancer. Bad. Death camps and Nazi's- bad. But I think of a friend whose husband cheated on her. And I used to think about how awful that was. But I never liked her husband, not even back when they were just dating. I kept my opinion to myself because they seemed okay. But I don't know, now, how to judge if it was right or wrong that they got married in the first place- they have a beautiful child together and that child wouldn't exist if they hadn't gotten together. So I think about if it was good or bad, right or wrong that he cheated and they divorced. He didn't treat her that well, was often demeaning, and now, she has a guy that seems fantastic. So, really, wouldn't it have been more wrong for them to stay together? Even my parents splitting up- if that hadn't happened, I wouldn't have my awesome sister...so how could their divorce have been wrong? Or bad? Even with all the pain it caused. It's all just too intertwined.
I feel like the only thing that matters is helping to ease someone's journey here. But how do you decide who needs more help? What if, in trying to ease one person's pain and sorrow, you hurt another person? Was it wrong to try to help in the first place? I just think it is too complicated to judge. At least some of the time. Perhaps more often than we would like to admit. It's like the tattoo on my back:
|
I chose this symbol mostly because of the duality within it...the warning against "back biting", which I usually describe as "betrayal", but the simultaneous need for forgiveness...if you do something to someone else in malice, with the intent to hurt or break or ruin, that is different than if you are doing something that feels right to you, that gives you hope and lifts you up, but hurts someone else by accident. Recognizing that is hard, but important. I feel like there were ways in which John hurt me, but there was never ever a time when he intended anything but love. I worry that as I feel the desire in my heart to move on, people around me won't understand, to varying degrees...I will feel like I am betraying him, our love, our marriage, our kids. But I know that isn't true. And when I think about dating, at 40 years old (this December, baby!), I think about the guys that are out there...do I even want to date someone who has never been married, been single this long? Do I want someone divorced? What if they cheated and that is what broke their marriage? Is it true, once a cheater always a cheater? Do I want a widower? Someone who knows the pain of loss; losing the story you had hoped would be and needing to build another?
Not looking for love is not an option. John and I talked about that. He was NOT happy with the idea at first. And then we had my counselor here and I told him that never dating after he is gone would mean that I would basically have to choose the path my grandmother and mother traversed. Both were divorced at moderately young ages, and neither ever dated again. Ever. My parents were divorced when I was six. My mom died when I was pregnant with Aiden. I remember, perhaps in high school, her saying that she hadn't had sex in so long, she was a virgin again. TMI, I know, but that was how my mom rolled with me...what can I say? I told John that if that is what he wanted, I would do it, for him. Then I held my breath, silently begging him to understand. He paused, frowned, and sighed his release...no. He told me he did not want that for me.
But here is the difficulty: no matter who comes next, if time and space could be bent to allow it, I would always choose John. Because to not choose him is like saying I am glad the cancer took him. Which will NEVER be true. For eight million reasons. So how do I expect someone to love me and embrace me, when there is this part of my heart that will always be John's? Who actually has a heart big enough to do that? And wouldn't committing to that person, knowing that John is and will always be my first choice, isn't that wrong? And of course, there is the horrible thought that intrudes, saying that maybe I will find someone better...someone who dances, who likes Thai food, that let's me talk more...But how can they be better, even with those things, than the guy who hid my keys. We fought and I was ready to leave, but couldn't. He had hidden my keys. He taught me how to face those scary things, talk about them, and end up cuddling and kissing. I had never done that. He was the only one who could have gotten me there. You can't get better than that.
And yet, I have to try. Because that is moving forward. And I want to. And I know I shouldn't worry about the nature of that need, because it is what it is...but how can that be right? Even though I know it's not wrong.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
fat eyes
from crying. and they burn. I saw my young, good looking neighbor out with his littlest daughter and his dogs last night...he helped reign in Sammy after he got out and we talked...I actually asked him if he and his wife have any single guy friends. I actually told him about my recent reconnect with a male member from my past who told me he fantasized about me for years after we broke up. My neighbor confirmed that something like that would get you thinking about things again. I need that confirmation.
One of the many annoying things here is that just because I KNOW certain things, doesn't mean I can truly embrace them or do them. I know that it is far too early to think about dating. But I am so lonely, all I can seem to think about is flirting and how to someday reach out. I know that I am all those ages and things I have been and done and seen, but it doesn't mean I can choose to hang onto the strength part whenever I need it.
I remember when John and I got engaged, I wanted to run around yelling it to everyone so everyone would know. I feel the same now. It seems so messed up and wrong to me that everyone goes on with their own lives and issues and drama and dreams when he is gone. I want to tell every person I see that I am a widow and that every move I make and smile that tips my lips is a mini miracle; that each time I snap at my kids has loss at the center of it right now, so if I over react, well, too bad.
I have been thinking...It seems that everything is cyclical...desire, loneliness, company, joy, anger, anxiety...it is strange to think that we believe, on some level, that one thing or another should last forever.
Tonight I have found blogs about widows and dating and sex and loneliness...and the crazy thing is that I really believed that I was alone and unique and I felt bad about my feelings...sometimes I love the internet...okay, most of the time...
Some days, I don't know if I can get out of bed. And soon enough, school will start and time will spin out of control. I will get up, regardless of how I feel. I am still fighting every day to remind myself I am beautiful. I fight to remember I am strong, even as I cry and struggle for focus and function. I want to laugh and love and play and hope and flirt...I will never be able to be whole in all the ways I was before. And humans are like that. Each loss takes something away from us. And no loss can render us so broken that we cannot love again. We can always choose to close ourselves off, to find hope only within, or to shun hope all together.
Not me. And I know I am not alone.
One of the many annoying things here is that just because I KNOW certain things, doesn't mean I can truly embrace them or do them. I know that it is far too early to think about dating. But I am so lonely, all I can seem to think about is flirting and how to someday reach out. I know that I am all those ages and things I have been and done and seen, but it doesn't mean I can choose to hang onto the strength part whenever I need it.
I remember when John and I got engaged, I wanted to run around yelling it to everyone so everyone would know. I feel the same now. It seems so messed up and wrong to me that everyone goes on with their own lives and issues and drama and dreams when he is gone. I want to tell every person I see that I am a widow and that every move I make and smile that tips my lips is a mini miracle; that each time I snap at my kids has loss at the center of it right now, so if I over react, well, too bad.
I have been thinking...It seems that everything is cyclical...desire, loneliness, company, joy, anger, anxiety...it is strange to think that we believe, on some level, that one thing or another should last forever.
Tonight I have found blogs about widows and dating and sex and loneliness...and the crazy thing is that I really believed that I was alone and unique and I felt bad about my feelings...sometimes I love the internet...okay, most of the time...
Some days, I don't know if I can get out of bed. And soon enough, school will start and time will spin out of control. I will get up, regardless of how I feel. I am still fighting every day to remind myself I am beautiful. I fight to remember I am strong, even as I cry and struggle for focus and function. I want to laugh and love and play and hope and flirt...I will never be able to be whole in all the ways I was before. And humans are like that. Each loss takes something away from us. And no loss can render us so broken that we cannot love again. We can always choose to close ourselves off, to find hope only within, or to shun hope all together.
Not me. And I know I am not alone.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Movement inside spirals
And moving forward is aided by actually getting out of the house. Playing with the kids helps. Also, breathing and remembering that idea that I am not only my past, not only my weaknesses...I am everything I have been, everywhere I have gone, all that I have done. Some moments the good shines through, some the bad. So in breathing, I focus, try to calm, and remember to connect.
This journey really is a roller coaster. And I am continually amazed by how much energy it takes to do next to nothing.
At lunch today, Neil made me turn my head and leaned in to plant a long, pizza wet kiss on my cheek. When I reciprocated (without pizza face, but still a long one right on his soft chubby cheek), he smiled and said "you fill ma bucket." I soften so much when he says that. Like a chocolate bar in the car.
Today, I feel like I can do this. Perhaps I won't do great (still away behind on laundry, house is getting a bit gross messy, but the dishes are clean, recycling got out, AND I had the kids brush their teeth before bed!), but I can move forward and calm myself a bit when I am spiraling. I need to remember that last one, so I will repeat it: I CAN CALM MYSELF A BIT WHEN I AM SPIRALING. There. Let's hope repetition helps it stick.
Tomorrow isn Cilly's birthday celebration! I can hardly believe how much she is growing...how they all are. How I suppose I am too.
This journey really is a roller coaster. And I am continually amazed by how much energy it takes to do next to nothing.
At lunch today, Neil made me turn my head and leaned in to plant a long, pizza wet kiss on my cheek. When I reciprocated (without pizza face, but still a long one right on his soft chubby cheek), he smiled and said "you fill ma bucket." I soften so much when he says that. Like a chocolate bar in the car.
Today, I feel like I can do this. Perhaps I won't do great (still away behind on laundry, house is getting a bit gross messy, but the dishes are clean, recycling got out, AND I had the kids brush their teeth before bed!), but I can move forward and calm myself a bit when I am spiraling. I need to remember that last one, so I will repeat it: I CAN CALM MYSELF A BIT WHEN I AM SPIRALING. There. Let's hope repetition helps it stick.
Tomorrow isn Cilly's birthday celebration! I can hardly believe how much she is growing...how they all are. How I suppose I am too.
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