A Horrifying, Heartbreaking Moment of Pure Inspiration

We've all had weeks like this.  Shane was home sick three days last week, I got it too, pushed through the long work weekend hopped up on coffee and ibuprofen.  My work week ended at 2am Sunday morning after 10 hours of serving tapas and wine, moving restaurant furniture and otherwise preparing for a Mother's Day Brunch I couldn't afford to eat.  I could hear Noah screaming in the bedroom before I even entered the house.  He stayed awake for another hour, the kids were up at 6, blah blah.

Church, lunch with family, all things I wanted to do and was willing to push through everyone's exhaustion for...

Not surprisingly, Noah didn't sleep good again last night and woke today with  a fever.  I spent my only scheduled three hours of kid freedom this week taking Noah to the doctor, picking up prescriptions, forcing the prescriptions down, carrying him everywhere I went.

I do my best.  I tell myself the house will get clean eventually.  I tell myself this too shall pass.  I vent to friends (thank you, dearest friends)

Tonight as I put the boys to sleep, one arm rubbing Shane's back, the other holding a nursing Noah, Shane said he bet I was a little glad that Brynn died.  I knew exactly where he was going with this before he even explained, "Because then you'd have to take care of her too."


Uh.

Horrifying.


But I get it.  It looks like I don't enjoy my life. Because sometimes I don't enjoy my life.  It looks like taking care of my children is a heavy drudgery. It looks like I'm not grateful for and in love with my children.  Because sometimes, in the drudgery of caring for them, I forget to be grateful for and in love with my children.  And my baby knows it.

What a sobering gift his words were tonight.  That kid. is. my sage.

He is my window into magical places, he is my dream world, he is my reflecting pool, he is my peace and my home.  He is the man in my life, that poor kid.

I am so glad he shared his burden with me.  It was not in vain.  This was an Oprah "Aha" moment that I believe is going to alter my approach to living forever.

My cells feel different already.

I'm going to take a homeopathic sleep aid now and get a good night's sleep.  Sweet dreams, my loves.

Shoulding on Ourselves and Others

I am setting the intention here and now to be more connected to myself.  I am feeling burned out.  I am burnt to a crisp out.  I am repeatedly receiving the message from loving friends and family that I need to be stronger.  I need to be more consistent with disciplining Shane, I need to hold other specific people accountable, I need to control my rage, etc etc.  How boring.  These loving advice-givers were not aware that I was already full, overflowing and overwhelmed by shoulds.  Have I mentioned here yet, that I have no use for should?  Some wise guru wrote in a book that we don't even  need the word should.  Try going through life without it.  It's nicer.

Anyway, apparently I should be stronger.  I want to break stuff.  I don't like being told what I should do.  It fires up my rage.  There's good information for me there.  I feel like there is already too much, without having to somehow figure out how to be stronger, already too much I should be doing.  The phrases "sucks at life" and "unfit mother" repeat themselves like scratched vinyl in my brain.

My solution is to take like medicine a long moment to myself.  Reconnect.  Love it up in there.  Say the things out loud that I feel ashamed to admit...

 Parenting is very hard for me.  I want a long break from it.  I'm afraid that I'm hurting my relationship with my son, and therefore his relationship with the world.

I'm afraid I will continue to attract men into my life that are not the best partners for me.  I'm afraid that if I meet a man that I think would be a good partner, then all my crazy will come to the surface, and I mean CRAZY.  I'm afraid if I get a glimpse of what a good partnership would look like, I will go mad and surely, surely repel that potentially good partner. I might hurl heavy rocks at him, just to be completely sure to sabotage my own happiness.  I'm afraid that I don't believe in "True Love" anymore.  I had it, and it was a tremendous amount of work and pain.

I'm afraid that my beliefs no longer align with the religion that I've chosen and love so much.  I believe in and love  my Jesus, and the saints and angels, but I believe equally in acceptance and love of all walks of life, which I do not see in practice in Orthodox, or most other forms of Christianity.  I'm afraid this outing will cost me friendships.

I'm afraid that not paying for my house might be really really stupid.  I stand by my decision for now, but the fear exists.

I feel better now.  Thank you for listening, Teresa.  I love you.

Oh. The Humanity.

So, not sure if I should be embarrassed to admit this or not ... I joined an online dating website.  Because it's been 1 1/2 years since my husband moved in with his girlfriend, because I live in a mommy bubble and literally know only women.  And their husbands.  And because I need attention and distraction, and there are hardly any TV shows I like.

It is a different world, people.  I feel like a grandma saying this, but the last time I was in the dating pool, there was no texting or internet.  Nowa-modern-days it's all there seems to be.

I am getting internet attention, but to be honest half the time I don't know what the hell is going on.  I don't speak the language, and I'm often confused.  There are all these little conversations that start, and then for one reason or another, one of us just stops responding.  The pool is sooo huge, there are always shiny new people popping in, and it's too many to keep track of ... It's fickle business.

Remember when we were fully human?  And we didn't have to worry about the staff robot's analysis of our personality, posted for all potential suitors to read.  My personality chart profiles my extreme bad manners.  For real.  I mean, I can't argue but HOW DID THEY KNOW??

I would not have noticed without this little foray how much I enjoy and depend on really, the physical being of a human that I'm getting to know.  I feel lost getting to know people without seeing and hearing them.  I feel lost without witnessing a person's tone and expression in conversation, a person's scent even.  There is energy and spirit that somehow gets transmitted much more clearly when in the presence of the physical form of a person. We are intelligent beings, yet we are animals, and our knowing comes from more than written word.

So.  So.  I don't know if I like it.  And that's good information for myself.  Now I can set clearer intentions.

Don't Be Sorry, Really. It's Weird.

I've mentioned earlier on here how "I'm sorry for your loss" is not my favorite phrase. Now am I able to add some concrete to the reason for this.

I'm sorry for your loss separates the person saying it from whom they are saying it to.  It isolates the loser.  It made me feel like the subject of a story the person was reading.  It made me feel alone.  Out here, all by myself with my loss.  It felt to me like, "I have removed myself from your loss.  Sorry."

Sorry is something you say when you're seeking forgiveness after wronging someone.  It doesn't make sense to say you are sorry unless you caused the loss.  This sentiment never reached me, I had no use for it.

When you have the opportunity to speak to someone who has experienced loss, it might be more healing to share your love more expressly.  If you feel compelled to mention loss, it feels less isolating to be told, "What a loss."  Though, no one ever said this to me, so I can't be sure how it would make me feel.

Again, a heartfelt "How are you?" opens the lines of communication, allows the other person to share or not, and it feels like there is care and inclusion.

Try it out on someone you love!~

Puppy it Up

So, this is going to be like one of those episodes of a show where it's a new episode, but it's really a conglomeration of snippits from previous episodes.

"Brynn" painted by Candace Cotterman

Today is Brynn's birthday.  She would be three.  For the past three years, the days leading up to January 29 have been splattered with PTSD triggers, sending me back to those first horrible moments.  That was some deep grief.  But it doesn't feel bad to relive it.  It feels good.  Because looking back, I can see myself crossing the threshold to a more authentic style of living.  I gave myself permission to say "Yeah, I know my baby girl just died but I'm not being sad about it in this moment.  I'm being irreverent because it feels good, it lightens the air, it relieves the pressure.  If you can't handle it, go cry somewhere else."  I gave myself permission to let this movie reel of my life be about me.

I gave myself permission to speak to the dead.  I gave myself permission to listen to the dead.  I gave permission to buy myself little gifts, trying on for the first time an abundance mentality.

These permissions led to other permissions, releasing my spirit, little by little, to experience more joy in life.  Those word don't convey how significant this is.   MORE JOY IN LIFE!

Attracting to myself a circle of women that would blow your mind.

Inside of me, Brynn was a crazy baby.  It feels like I must have made this up, it's so unbelievable, but at her 20 week ultrasound we saw her repeatedly trying to kick her legs over her head, front walk-over style.

In the last days, she would kick me so hard, I could feel, and see, her foot sticking out of my belly.  She was a strong and vivacious girl.  And her spirit is so effervescently light.  Like fizzy pink lemonade.

My sister-in-life Kate had a dream about Brynn last week.  They were playing with a litter of puppies together.  Brynn shared with her this wisdom:  Gather for yourself the compassion, the joy, and the fun of living as though you were playing with puppies.  Give to yourself the love and sweetness that a puppy would evoke.  Essentially; be the puppy.

I woke up with a call to action this morning:  Play.  Celebrate Brynn today with play.  We went sledding down the driveway before school.

Today I give myself permission to admit to you, and to myself,  that I am so grateful that this is my life.  I am so freaking grateful for Brynn.  For who she is.  For what she teaches me.  Today I tell you that I would not change a thing.  Happy Birthday, lovey.

Truth to Share

Women and Children.

I know all too well how all the words fall short in the wake of a tragedy.  We are a nation in grief for the little children and their beloved, martyred teachers.   For the parents who bought presents that will go  unopened on Christmas morning.  For the families whose holiday plans have changed from festival to funeral.

We are a nation trudging through, a little slower from the weight of sadness.

There has been some controversy over whether or not to tell young children.  More specifically, whether it is even possible to shield them from something that is so widespread in conversation and media.

I could not shield my child from the news that his sister died.  I could not shield my child from the reality that Daddy moved out.  I didn't mince words.  I explained things in terms he could understand, I left the conversation open, I let my sadness show.  We handled it.

There is room here for any variety of opinions, and I trust each parent to make that decision for their child.

I'm going on record here, as someone who has had experience sharing life's tragic events with my little child, that I see no reason to share what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary with my first-grader.  And for awhile there I didn't think I was going to have a choice.  I was, and am prepared to have any length of discussion with him about it if he hears about it.  I'm not worried about that.

The truth is, no amount of Security or Gun Control can guarantee our safety.  That is the reality.  The awareness, the dwelling on thoughts that horrific things can and did happen to the most innocent people, is not going to benefit Shane in any way.

I appreciate his school so much.  More than before.  And I am  IN LOVE with his teacher.  And I'm glad they will begin lock down drills in January, telling the kids it's to be prepared if a skunk should be running down the hall.  Can we take a moment to appreciate how precious that is?

So glad, and yet I understand that in the event of a real emergency, there may still be casualties.

This morning I told my son all the truth he needs to arm himself in preparation for any catastrophe.  I told him that if he ever needs help and I'm not there, to remember that his angels are always there, and ready to help him.  That he can ask for whatever help he needs.  And that even when I'm not with him, my love is always with him.  And that no matter what happens, he will be great.

Surfacing

It is usually easy for me to be thankful.  Here in Missouri, with all the cousins, aunts, brothers.  I want to enjoy this.  I'm just feeling sorry for myself.  Everyone else here is a two-parent family.  It's embarrassing to me that my family is incomplete.  It's lonely.  And it makes me feel so angry.  Last year I was single too, not officially just separated, like I am still.  I was so euphoric to be freed from so much ridiculous tension in the house, that somehow it didn't feel this hard.

It has taken a long time for that euphoria to wear off.  And knowing now about the sham, and the fact that I stupidly believed in something that was so obviously not so, makes me want to vomit.  I wish I could go back in time about 13 years, and make better decisions.  I want desperately to move out of this place in my mind.  I'm stuck here.  My mind feels like a caged animal searching furiously for the exit.

I am a sea mammal, living my life in the water, in which I cannot breathe.  I need to swim to the surface, where I can see the horizon, the sun's white light, and take in some air.  I need that moment of surface time, communing with God.  To remember that I am his child, that I am loved, and that there is a beautiful plan and purpose to my life.

Even though in this moment, it looks like I'm the one that got left out of the plan.

Thankful for It All

Well, I stumbled upon some information this week that I should have been prepared for.  I wasn't surprised, but neither was I prepared.  This information confirmed the status of the relationship between someone who was once my husband and someone who was once my friend, his female roomate. 
Duh, I know.

OK, so, I'm not ready to write this. Check back in a few days.

OK, I'm back.

I am so thankful that the truth is finally in the light. I found out so serendipitously, there is no question that the Angels were involved.


I am angry.  I am hurting.  I thought I had grieved this thing fully already.  Acceptance of this additional tidbit to my life story, is hard.  Accepting this state of affairs brings new pain to my perspective of our marriage and its ending.  I realize how soft I've been, how easily manipulated.  How unfair I've been to myself, you know, because I was concerned about being fair to someone else.  Fair is fair to both parties.  And now that I have more of the facts about what is going on, that's how it will be from now on.

Since Brynn died, I get told a lot about how strong I am. I am kind of tired of everyone talking about how strong I am. I want to be like everyone else, looking at someone else's story thinking how they could never handle it. I don't know how anyone defines strength. I don't think I've ever tried to be strong. I let my tears come. Watching my kids play. While driving. Over green tea at Panera. I don't push the pain out. I feel it, and whisper gentle comforts to myself.

What I do, when my thoughts wander into that house down the street, is gently bring myself back to my own life.  I am in my house, and this story is about me.  Not them.  If my mind keeps sneaking off to wander into someone else's house, then it's being unfaithful to its purpose.  I gently, patiently remind myself, and bring myself back to my highest and best.  It feels like breaking an addiction.  

I know Jesus is quoted as saying "Deny Thyself."  That seems to get confused into "Don't Love Thyself."  Not loving yourself is a much less efficient road, and doesn't lead to good places.  I lovingly, patiently, sweetly deny myself from lingering in the places of my mind that postpone healing.

I am in the business of bringing honor to my sons and daughter, thereby honoring all things. Honor honors everything, and Fair is Fair to everyone. Not everyone chooses this path.

I am glad for all of this crap.  Because you, nor I, know how strong we are until we have to shovel through some of life's crap.  A friend likens all of this crap in life as manuer, which seasons and turns to compost, which nourishes all the growing things in our garden. And the work of grief, like shoveling compost, strengthens us.  And the strength that I've gained affords me a deeper well from which to draw happiness and peace.  My prayer life, I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

I know that you can be just as strong.  I recommend starting by mustering up some love for yourself.