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.
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
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.
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Ho Ho Ho
"It's comin along Christmas. They're cutting down trees. Putting up reindeer and singin songs of joy and peace. And I wish I had a river that I could skate away on…"
Joni got it.
As I've said pretty much every year I've had this blog, I love Christmas. I love Christmas parties more than anything. I've been to three Yankee Swaps and a Secret Santa in the past two weeks, and they never get old.
But also.
I think most moms, even most PEOPLE, would feel me here - this time of year is so stressful. There is so much to do. There is so much to remember. And none of the "other stuff" takes a back seat.
This year, my Mom, all five siblings, and families, as well as my aunt, uncle, cousin and cousin's gf, are going to Montana. It's going to be an adventure for sure. The kids are going to learn to ski. And it'll be amazing to go somewhere that was so close to my Dad's heart, at his favorite time of year.
But for sure, traveling for Christmas adds a level of stress that cannot be downplayed.
I'm going to make the absolute most of the trip, though. I haven't had a vacation in two years, and when I come back, I'll be coming back to full-on walk season. So, it's time to live in the moment (advice E gave me just yesterday) and that's what I plan to do.
Joni got it.
As I've said pretty much every year I've had this blog, I love Christmas. I love Christmas parties more than anything. I've been to three Yankee Swaps and a Secret Santa in the past two weeks, and they never get old.
But also.
I think most moms, even most PEOPLE, would feel me here - this time of year is so stressful. There is so much to do. There is so much to remember. And none of the "other stuff" takes a back seat.
This year, my Mom, all five siblings, and families, as well as my aunt, uncle, cousin and cousin's gf, are going to Montana. It's going to be an adventure for sure. The kids are going to learn to ski. And it'll be amazing to go somewhere that was so close to my Dad's heart, at his favorite time of year.
But for sure, traveling for Christmas adds a level of stress that cannot be downplayed.
I'm going to make the absolute most of the trip, though. I haven't had a vacation in two years, and when I come back, I'll be coming back to full-on walk season. So, it's time to live in the moment (advice E gave me just yesterday) and that's what I plan to do.
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Bittersweet
I've always had a love-hate relationship with this time of year. I LOVE summer. But I love fall, too. I always loved school, but was always terrified at the start of the year. This year, I'm so ready for my kids to be back in school and to have a break from each other, but I hate that I'm going to have to wake them up and rush them through mornings.
This summer was the best we've had in a while. Two years ago, my Dad died in early August. Last year was a great summer, but a stressful one, with our big move and all the transitions that brings. This year, we were settled, thankfully, since it was the first summer since 2009 that I was working full time. That took some doing, but all in all, it was a really good summer. The kids had a ton of fun and made so many good memories.
One of the awesome things about this summer was the multiple reminders of what rockingly awesome support system my Mom has around her. On her AHEM (milestone) birthday, August 8th, we threw her a party in Long Island, and a bunch of her friends came down for the weekend. These people, most of whom have been in our lives since around the time I was three, made the effort to travel to Long Island to celebrate my Mom, and they were all beyond happy to do it. They have embraced her, in the past two years, in ways we couldn't have anticipated, and I know I speak for my siblings as well as myself (and my Dad) when I say that I am grateful beyond words.
It was a summer of personal growth for me. In addition to working full time, I ran my first 7 mile race. It. Was. Awesome. Hard, really hot and humid, and awesome. I can't wait to do it again. Hopefully in less painfully slow fashion.
After finishing his MBA, E started a new job. It's a really big change (although within the same company) for him, and just the new challenge he needed, I think.
So, it's a bittersweet night around here, as we anticipate school starting tomorrow.
This summer was the best we've had in a while. Two years ago, my Dad died in early August. Last year was a great summer, but a stressful one, with our big move and all the transitions that brings. This year, we were settled, thankfully, since it was the first summer since 2009 that I was working full time. That took some doing, but all in all, it was a really good summer. The kids had a ton of fun and made so many good memories.
One of the awesome things about this summer was the multiple reminders of what rockingly awesome support system my Mom has around her. On her AHEM (milestone) birthday, August 8th, we threw her a party in Long Island, and a bunch of her friends came down for the weekend. These people, most of whom have been in our lives since around the time I was three, made the effort to travel to Long Island to celebrate my Mom, and they were all beyond happy to do it. They have embraced her, in the past two years, in ways we couldn't have anticipated, and I know I speak for my siblings as well as myself (and my Dad) when I say that I am grateful beyond words.
It was a summer of personal growth for me. In addition to working full time, I ran my first 7 mile race. It. Was. Awesome. Hard, really hot and humid, and awesome. I can't wait to do it again. Hopefully in less painfully slow fashion.
After finishing his MBA, E started a new job. It's a really big change (although within the same company) for him, and just the new challenge he needed, I think.
So, it's a bittersweet night around here, as we anticipate school starting tomorrow.
Sunday, August 2, 2015
2
Once again this year, I struggled with what to write, when to post...the usual stuff. Here's where I landed. I decided to post today, rather than tomorrow, because August 2nd was the last time I spoke to my Dad. The last time I told him I loved him, while he was in the physical realm (I still tell him daily at minimum, but it's different now). So, I decided that, rather than posting tomorrow about how much I miss him, which I do, painfully, still and always, I would post today and focus on all the things that make me feel grateful, as related to him.
First, to that phone call. I think about it often. A million different things could've prevented us from reaching my parents on their way to the airport that day. We could've been running late. They could've been in a dead spot. One of the kids could've thrown a fit. A million things. But none of those things happened. We did get through. And we finished the conversation by saying, "I love you." And I will never, ever stop being grateful for that. Ever.
I'm grateful that I had such an amazing father in the first place. Not everyone does. And I did. How lucky. He was awesome and funny and kind and loving and myriad other things. He offered guidance and support and was the best cheerleader any of his five kids could've asked for. He was literally Santa Claus. We were really lucky.
I'm grateful that he loved my Mom so much. I had models (in both him and my grandfather) from early in life of how I should expect to be loved by my husband. And that is to say, I learned that I should be adored and appreciated, always. I carried that with me, and it is precisely why I ended up with E.
I'm grateful that he couldn't resist babies. If he hadn't been so gaga for babies, maybe there wouldn't have been all five of us. No matter what else is going on in our lives, we have four built-in best friends that our parents gave us.
I'm grateful that I will always remember how thoroughly he believed in me. If ever I doubt my competence, I have only to remember how absolutely sure of it he always was. It never faltered, even when it probably should have.
So, yea. In short, two years later, life still sucks more without him than it did with him. But I'm also just so damn grateful for the life I have at least in part because I had him for a father. And I'm grateful because I believe he's still watching over me. Thanks, Papa.
First, to that phone call. I think about it often. A million different things could've prevented us from reaching my parents on their way to the airport that day. We could've been running late. They could've been in a dead spot. One of the kids could've thrown a fit. A million things. But none of those things happened. We did get through. And we finished the conversation by saying, "I love you." And I will never, ever stop being grateful for that. Ever.
I'm grateful that I had such an amazing father in the first place. Not everyone does. And I did. How lucky. He was awesome and funny and kind and loving and myriad other things. He offered guidance and support and was the best cheerleader any of his five kids could've asked for. He was literally Santa Claus. We were really lucky.
I'm grateful that he loved my Mom so much. I had models (in both him and my grandfather) from early in life of how I should expect to be loved by my husband. And that is to say, I learned that I should be adored and appreciated, always. I carried that with me, and it is precisely why I ended up with E.
I'm grateful that he couldn't resist babies. If he hadn't been so gaga for babies, maybe there wouldn't have been all five of us. No matter what else is going on in our lives, we have four built-in best friends that our parents gave us.
I'm grateful that I will always remember how thoroughly he believed in me. If ever I doubt my competence, I have only to remember how absolutely sure of it he always was. It never faltered, even when it probably should have.
So, yea. In short, two years later, life still sucks more without him than it did with him. But I'm also just so damn grateful for the life I have at least in part because I had him for a father. And I'm grateful because I believe he's still watching over me. Thanks, Papa.
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