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After over 30 years, we are finally empty nesters and what does the husband want to do? Go to Costco. There could be flower petals and candles and snuggling in once forbidden places - bowls of nachos .... and he wants to drive - in the dark and the cold - to big box hell and spend a week's pay on avocados and paper goods. Although, under certain circumstances - a metric ton of pork belly could be considered a romantic gesture - if seasoned right and I don't have to wash the pan....
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This Thanksgiving surely hits the top five worst for me. In the space where I reside between hope for reconciliation, for healing and for joy and the reality of the choices others make that impact my life - holidays have always been problematic. Today the struggle bus is a freight train... Three deaths and the fallout thereafter would have been enough but two people I deeply, deeply love have stepped into a future a 1000 miles away taking their hugs, their laughter, their conversations about dreams and life and love with them. And while I know they are doing the right thing, I'm wrecked. I've found myself reduced to ugly snot cries into a stuffed animal. I've actually cooked and cleaned for three consecutive days. I've written multiple sets of bad country song lyrics. And I cannot go into rooms they once occupied without a deluge of emotions I cannot control. Sometimes we just go through a barrage of difficulty - and we just have to ride it out until we can get to the engine room and regain control of the train. At least I'm not tied to the tracks. Be gentle with those around you who are struggling this Holiday season. Peace.
My mom - the good Lord rest her cantankerous hide used to tell me "You'll grunt all day for a 'good girl'" and I was well into my adult years before the crassness of that statement hit me. (think toddler toilet training - she wasn't complimenting me) And as one does - I've allowed that statement to define me - calling it "work ethic" and "responsible" but it isn't any of those things. Its fear. Fear of disappointing others and therefore being alone. Fear of losing income - of losing worth. And while I'm simply not geared to be dismissive of others and how my actions might impact them - I know my angst comes from doing the thing I think I'm supposed to do - and foregoing the things I want to do. I'm weary of waiting for the right time - for "permission" to do what I want to do and what I want to do is write. Finding "time" isn't the issue. At the end of the day - I am weary from "grunting all day", from dealing with things that must be dealt with. I've always worked - I've been blessed to be employed. But all the other stuff right now ... its constipating my brain. I miss my mom and the grief is fresh - but the career and the mourning are only two of many...too too many. "Resist the tyranny of the urgent" - (Marshall Townsley) That is my goal.
There is this precept concerning "single mindedness" or being singularly focused with respect to personal progress or as I believe "receiving" from my Creator. And for me - it is a rare moment when all the toddlers in my cranium are facing forward - usually this happens when food is involved or there is a need to find a bathroom. But for the most part - I'm working constantly to maintain equilibrium and at least the veneer of outward focus. So why now in the middle of my mom's "legacy issues" the knock down drag out I'm having with cortisol production, the looming exodus of spawn and FC (the spare and bride are fledging and migrating) the brain goes "ooh ooh - here's a novel idea and three characters and a plot line and the beginning scene and the ending scene and the main character is a female, no male - we can write like a dude right? and he has a free roaming pet iguana - trust me it's pivotal to the storyline and here's his backstory because that's really important SHUT UP! The only thing worse than an internal editor is the internal novelist with a new idea. The plan has been to build a platform over the next six months - to submit as much poetry and shorts as possible starting in december - and then queries for Ephesus - which is edited and polished - starting in June. No new books were even on the radar nor were they desired. And yet? There's this dude named Axel and his pet iguana running through my head (no. He's not a rocker. And the iguana is very well behaved. That's pivotal to the storyline) I need help. And nachos.
Recently I've been hearing someone I hold in regard tell me more and more frequently that I am "not grateful" and while I understand the assumption - I am not "ungrateful." I am sad. I am grieving for those people, those hopes, those dreams I have lost. And as I stand in places of "empty" in my heart - I am reticent to fill it with another person or hope or dream only to incur more loss. I've been hit in every area of my life with loss over the past two years. In all of this - I don't "hate or blame God" but I struggle with the sadness. I miss my mom deeply. I miss being able to chat over a meal with my elder spawn and his family. I miss being pain and daily med free. I miss being involved in a creative business endeavor. And I miss all of these things because I WAS grateful for them. I need patience and a kind word or two right now. I will move through this. All of it. And I know its taking longer than what is comfortable for those who have to deal wtih me and my angst daily. I'm not wallowing in my maisma - but I cannot stand before anyone right now in my sparkly unicorn tutu shouting "superhappyfuntime." I need a moment. And I am truly grateful for those who will understand that - and I believe that includes my Creator.
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January 2023
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