I've been incredibly blocked, lately, where writing is concerned. It's weird. There is SO MUCH going on in my head, but somehow I've been struggling mightily to come up with the corresponding words. Which isn't great for my mental state. Never has been.
It's been a weird year. I dare say I'm not alone in that assessment. I've seen it described as a dumpster fire, a garbage year, the apocalypse...
I haven't had the words to discuss the current political climate. Anyone who has ever read anything in this space ever already knows my stance. Suffice to say that if you think you can pray away the gay, then you are just as anti-science as people who refuse to believe in evolution. I realize the Venn diagram on these two things is already basically a circle.
I've been in a pretty dark place lately, personally. I am supremely unhappy with my physical self. I'm struggling to find a way to change that. My days are so busy, and by the time my nights arrive, I'm generally too wiped to contemplate much of a workout. But I need it. Not just physically, but mentally.
I've been carrying around a pretty heavy melancholy, which I think is kind of a mental manifestation of my physical state. It grosses me out almost as much as my physical self, too. I don't have much tolerance for sad sack Lindsay.
But also. This time of year is kind of an emotional tinder box. The holidays are so wonderful and magical. But as I've said every year, they're also awfully fraught when your Dad is Santa and then he dies. This will be our fourth Christmas without him, which in and of itself is mind blowing. But it only ever gets very marginally easier to accept his absence. Very marginally.
I've got to get out of this funk. GOT. TO. I don't do well existing in Blahsville. I just don't.
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Panicky Pete
I used to write. Constantly. I used to write in notebooks, on printer paper, in journals, everywhere. I wrote poems, I wrote stories, I wrote essays that looked a lot like my blog posts. I wrote all the time. It was such an integral part of me.
And then…it slowed down. More and more, over the years, it came to be less a part of my routine. So, in 2008, I started this blog. And for a time, it got me back into the routine of writing. But over the past eight and a half years, my life has changed so completely that it barely resembles the life I was living in 2008.
And so, over the years, this has become more a space that I come to when I'm working something out. I don't know how I'd have gotten through the miscarriage or my Dad's death without processing it here.
So, I guess the fact that I haven't written much lately, overall, means I haven't had as much to process? I guess that's true. Although the panic attack that has been on and off since the middle of Sunday night says otherwise. Ugh. It's the worst and longest I've had in some time, and it's so frustrating.
So, let's unpack this, shall we?
We just got back from a family vacation to Montana. No one was hospitalized this trip! YAY! It was a ton of fun, but as always, coming back form a trip like that, especially given the time change, requires a re-entry period for everyone involved.
Before I left, the issue I wrote about a couple of years ago that led to my first mammogram re-surfaced, worse than before, and I had to go in for another mammogram and ultra-sound, both scheduled the same day I saw my doctor, which is just always disconcerting. Both are clean, but it'll require some sort of procedure sometime soon.
Not entirely related nor entirely unrelated, my thyroid is for sure acting up. Which a) impacts my general health and b) predisposes me to anxiety and panic. Good times for everyone!
My Mom left Monday for a European vacation. While I'm super excited for her, I can't help but wonder if there is some part of my subconscious that was freaking out over her traveling to Europe at 70 in the summer (on an overnight flight to France, no less - See August 2013 archives for reference). Obviously, I knew it was going to be fine and it was, and she's going to have an amazing time, and it's far beyond well earned. But when you lose one parent, you tend to get paranoid about the other one, in situations that remind you of the first parent. If that even makes sense. She's not him. She's his opposite in so many ways. But I still have to imagine that was part of it. That PTSD…and that shit takes a while to fully settle down.
And then of course, there's work. I was thoroughly exhausted before MT, so it was good to have a break. But I always find returning to work after a vacation daunting. I don't deal well with being absent from work. I don't feel AS guilty this time as I have times in the past, but it's still not the BEST feeling. I can rationalize all I want, but feelings don't always listen.
I had an email conversation with my much mentioned in this space bff, and that always helps. She knows the full extent of my neuroses and loves me anyway. I wouldn't have made it out of elementary school, let alone life's real trials, without her. Sometimes, it helps just to say to her, "Hey, I'm feeling like a nut bag," and have her respond, "Hey, I'm feeling like a nut bag, too!" Sympatico.
Another odd note - I have had conversations with several different people from different parts of my life this week, who have mentioned having a spike in anxiety too. Weird. Not a full moon. Is there some other astronomical/astrological event of which I'm unaware? Hmm.
Anyway, anxiety…beat feet. I got shit to do.
And then…it slowed down. More and more, over the years, it came to be less a part of my routine. So, in 2008, I started this blog. And for a time, it got me back into the routine of writing. But over the past eight and a half years, my life has changed so completely that it barely resembles the life I was living in 2008.
And so, over the years, this has become more a space that I come to when I'm working something out. I don't know how I'd have gotten through the miscarriage or my Dad's death without processing it here.
So, I guess the fact that I haven't written much lately, overall, means I haven't had as much to process? I guess that's true. Although the panic attack that has been on and off since the middle of Sunday night says otherwise. Ugh. It's the worst and longest I've had in some time, and it's so frustrating.
So, let's unpack this, shall we?
We just got back from a family vacation to Montana. No one was hospitalized this trip! YAY! It was a ton of fun, but as always, coming back form a trip like that, especially given the time change, requires a re-entry period for everyone involved.
Before I left, the issue I wrote about a couple of years ago that led to my first mammogram re-surfaced, worse than before, and I had to go in for another mammogram and ultra-sound, both scheduled the same day I saw my doctor, which is just always disconcerting. Both are clean, but it'll require some sort of procedure sometime soon.
Not entirely related nor entirely unrelated, my thyroid is for sure acting up. Which a) impacts my general health and b) predisposes me to anxiety and panic. Good times for everyone!
My Mom left Monday for a European vacation. While I'm super excited for her, I can't help but wonder if there is some part of my subconscious that was freaking out over her traveling to Europe at 70 in the summer (on an overnight flight to France, no less - See August 2013 archives for reference). Obviously, I knew it was going to be fine and it was, and she's going to have an amazing time, and it's far beyond well earned. But when you lose one parent, you tend to get paranoid about the other one, in situations that remind you of the first parent. If that even makes sense. She's not him. She's his opposite in so many ways. But I still have to imagine that was part of it. That PTSD…and that shit takes a while to fully settle down.
And then of course, there's work. I was thoroughly exhausted before MT, so it was good to have a break. But I always find returning to work after a vacation daunting. I don't deal well with being absent from work. I don't feel AS guilty this time as I have times in the past, but it's still not the BEST feeling. I can rationalize all I want, but feelings don't always listen.
I had an email conversation with my much mentioned in this space bff, and that always helps. She knows the full extent of my neuroses and loves me anyway. I wouldn't have made it out of elementary school, let alone life's real trials, without her. Sometimes, it helps just to say to her, "Hey, I'm feeling like a nut bag," and have her respond, "Hey, I'm feeling like a nut bag, too!" Sympatico.
Another odd note - I have had conversations with several different people from different parts of my life this week, who have mentioned having a spike in anxiety too. Weird. Not a full moon. Is there some other astronomical/astrological event of which I'm unaware? Hmm.
Anyway, anxiety…beat feet. I got shit to do.
Monday, May 23, 2016
My Lens
I've written here often about B's emotionality and empathy. He is a challenging guy, to be sure, but he is also one of the most genuinely kind people I know. He cares so deeply for those around him. He feels everything intensely, and his emotions are always close to the surface, and often visible on his face and in his eyes.
E1's grandfather passed away last week. We traveled to VT for the services. He had been varying types and degrees of unwell for a very long time, so it was not a huge surprise to lose him, but he was a unique and unforgettable presence and is mourned greatly.
As I've also said here before, one of the hardest parts of grief, as a parent, is seeing your children grieve. When my Dad died, the most gutting part, and there were so many, was telling B, and then seeing him struggle with his grief subsequently. He still struggles with it.
And so, at the funeral, when B saw his aunt crying, his inner empath emerged. I watched on his face his concern and sadness for her. And I watched it dawn on him that she was grieving her grandfather, and that he knows all about grieving your grandfather. And I watched on his extraordinarily expressive face the combination of grief for Grampa V, his concern for his aunt, and his residual grief for his Papa. And it gutted me all over again.
This boy's joy is my joy. His heartache is my heartache. I guess that's pretty typical as a Mom - that so much of my life is now filtered through him.
E1's grandfather passed away last week. We traveled to VT for the services. He had been varying types and degrees of unwell for a very long time, so it was not a huge surprise to lose him, but he was a unique and unforgettable presence and is mourned greatly.
As I've also said here before, one of the hardest parts of grief, as a parent, is seeing your children grieve. When my Dad died, the most gutting part, and there were so many, was telling B, and then seeing him struggle with his grief subsequently. He still struggles with it.
And so, at the funeral, when B saw his aunt crying, his inner empath emerged. I watched on his face his concern and sadness for her. And I watched it dawn on him that she was grieving her grandfather, and that he knows all about grieving your grandfather. And I watched on his extraordinarily expressive face the combination of grief for Grampa V, his concern for his aunt, and his residual grief for his Papa. And it gutted me all over again.
This boy's joy is my joy. His heartache is my heartache. I guess that's pretty typical as a Mom - that so much of my life is now filtered through him.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Blindsided
I love the movie About Time. It absolutely reduces me to a soggy, sobbing mess, EVERY time, but I'll pretty much never not watch it, still. There's a line in it. "The real troubles in your life will always be things that never crossed your worried mind." As an avid worrier, I can confirm that this is very, very true. Sure, I had a nascent worry about losing my Dad, but it honestly never occurred to me that he was going to die on that flight over the Atlantic.
And it's funny…grief is kind of similar. Times when you think things are going alone fine, when you think you're doing ok…WHAM! The carpet disappears and you're free-falling.
It's been two and a half years since my Dad died. And then some things happened.
Last week, my cousin lost her husband. He was 44. He was a wonderful, wonderful person. He took care of her and her daughter when she was a young, single mother, and became a great Dad and husband for them. Together, they went on to have two more children. They made a family together, and it really sucks that he is gone now. Death is a part of life, yes, but sometimes the TIMING of it is just flat out unfair.
So, perhaps, then, grief was on my mind already when I went to show my daughter a video of her as a baby, and subsequently stumbled across one of B jumping to my Dad in my sister's pool. It had been a long time since I'd heard his voice. And it caught me off guard. And as my Mom said a little while ago, "Grief sneaks up on you. It's like a kick to the back of the head." And it is.
It's a particular weakness of mine, when it comes to my Dad and B. They had a special bond. So, seeing that video hit that nerve even more squarely in light of that. Still, two and a half years later, I just hate that B lost his Papa. I hate it. I hate that it changed his world. I hate that it changed the WAY he sees the world as a whole. I hate that it will probably be the defining event of his childhood. It's not fair. And I know life isn't fair. But I don't have to like it.
But perhaps it is through this filter that Ben sees the world, that brought about his reaction when I told him about my cousin's husband's death, and his first thought was for their 7 year old son. This extremely empathetic boy of mine knows loss. And although that sucks, maybe it will bring about something good, somehow. Maybe. I hope so.
Sigh. Another not entirely coherent post here at MommyWriter.
And it's funny…grief is kind of similar. Times when you think things are going alone fine, when you think you're doing ok…WHAM! The carpet disappears and you're free-falling.
It's been two and a half years since my Dad died. And then some things happened.
Last week, my cousin lost her husband. He was 44. He was a wonderful, wonderful person. He took care of her and her daughter when she was a young, single mother, and became a great Dad and husband for them. Together, they went on to have two more children. They made a family together, and it really sucks that he is gone now. Death is a part of life, yes, but sometimes the TIMING of it is just flat out unfair.
So, perhaps, then, grief was on my mind already when I went to show my daughter a video of her as a baby, and subsequently stumbled across one of B jumping to my Dad in my sister's pool. It had been a long time since I'd heard his voice. And it caught me off guard. And as my Mom said a little while ago, "Grief sneaks up on you. It's like a kick to the back of the head." And it is.
It's a particular weakness of mine, when it comes to my Dad and B. They had a special bond. So, seeing that video hit that nerve even more squarely in light of that. Still, two and a half years later, I just hate that B lost his Papa. I hate it. I hate that it changed his world. I hate that it changed the WAY he sees the world as a whole. I hate that it will probably be the defining event of his childhood. It's not fair. And I know life isn't fair. But I don't have to like it.
But perhaps it is through this filter that Ben sees the world, that brought about his reaction when I told him about my cousin's husband's death, and his first thought was for their 7 year old son. This extremely empathetic boy of mine knows loss. And although that sucks, maybe it will bring about something good, somehow. Maybe. I hope so.
Sigh. Another not entirely coherent post here at MommyWriter.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Every New Beginning...
I turned forty on Thursday. I'm really excited for this new decade. I was pretty over my thirties, if I'm being honest. I mean, obviously, so many amazing, magical things happened in my thirties. That's a given. But I also spent a lot of time kind of struggling with finding my new identity, as a wife and Mom. After spending most of my twenties getting really comfortable with myself, my sense of self completely changed in my thirties, and while a lot of it was good, it was also hard and often kind of painful.
So many people have told me since Thursday that the forties are a great, fun decade, and I'm ready for it.
But in order to have a great, fun decade, there are some old habits I really need to let go of.
I've made a lot of progress in my self talk, but I still have a long way to go. I'm my own worst critic, hands down. I can sometimes be kind of awkward, probably due to my social anxiety/shyness, and as a result, I can really mentally berate myself. It's so counter-productive and needs to stay in my past.
I constantly convince myself that people are mad at me. Like, CONSTANTLY. Or, even that people don't like me. There are examples of it that are patently ABSURD. And I really need to knock it off. I'm a kind, caring person and a good friend and family member. If I'm not DOING anything to make anyone angry, then I need to quit torturing myself.
I need to believe in myself more. I have this longstanding feeling of inferiority. Sometimes, it'll even rear its ugly head within my own family. I'm not as good an athlete. I'm not in as good of shape. Whatever it is. I can convince myself that I have less to offer. And I can sometimes think that other people see me through MY eyes, not their own. It's a totally gross, mean (to me) habit, and I need to get rid of it. And it comes into play professionally, too. I need to have more professional confidence. Yes, I had some bad experiences, but they were a long time ago now, and when people tell me I'm good at my job, I need to believe them.
Now that my kids are 8 and 4, and are beginning to get more self sufficient, I need to get back into a better self care habit. I think it's fairly standard when your kids are tiny to kind of neglect yourself. But really, it's not as helpful as it seems, and that one needs to get gone, too.
I'm just ready for some fun. Some enjoyment. Not that I didn't have fun in my thirties, but I think I spent so much of that decade "getting settled" into various things, and now that I am a bit more settled, I feel ready to reap some of the good stuff I sowed.
So many people have told me since Thursday that the forties are a great, fun decade, and I'm ready for it.
But in order to have a great, fun decade, there are some old habits I really need to let go of.
I've made a lot of progress in my self talk, but I still have a long way to go. I'm my own worst critic, hands down. I can sometimes be kind of awkward, probably due to my social anxiety/shyness, and as a result, I can really mentally berate myself. It's so counter-productive and needs to stay in my past.
I constantly convince myself that people are mad at me. Like, CONSTANTLY. Or, even that people don't like me. There are examples of it that are patently ABSURD. And I really need to knock it off. I'm a kind, caring person and a good friend and family member. If I'm not DOING anything to make anyone angry, then I need to quit torturing myself.
I need to believe in myself more. I have this longstanding feeling of inferiority. Sometimes, it'll even rear its ugly head within my own family. I'm not as good an athlete. I'm not in as good of shape. Whatever it is. I can convince myself that I have less to offer. And I can sometimes think that other people see me through MY eyes, not their own. It's a totally gross, mean (to me) habit, and I need to get rid of it. And it comes into play professionally, too. I need to have more professional confidence. Yes, I had some bad experiences, but they were a long time ago now, and when people tell me I'm good at my job, I need to believe them.
Now that my kids are 8 and 4, and are beginning to get more self sufficient, I need to get back into a better self care habit. I think it's fairly standard when your kids are tiny to kind of neglect yourself. But really, it's not as helpful as it seems, and that one needs to get gone, too.
I'm just ready for some fun. Some enjoyment. Not that I didn't have fun in my thirties, but I think I spent so much of that decade "getting settled" into various things, and now that I am a bit more settled, I feel ready to reap some of the good stuff I sowed.
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