…the cradle will fall, bounce, ricochet off the nearest laundry basket and come to a screeching halt in the deepest halls of your soul.
Sometimes, life throws you a curve ball.
Sometimes, life hits you upside the head with a baseball bat repeatedly until it becomes clear that the definition of insanity is the act of doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
My husband and I parted ways last week.
[enter the sounds of flabbergasted-ness, stage left]
Out of left field? No.
Why, then, such an emphatic gasp-a-tory response from the masses?
Because, as transparent as I am in the chaos of the reality of my made-for-tv-movie kind’o’life…it was none of anyone’s business. My respect to keep deets about the behind-the-scenes has always been important. And, morally right.
It hurts on so many levels. My confidence about how much time, energy and effort I expended is high. My soul-sad is really fucking low.
Sometimes, when we’re faced with the reality of difficult decisions, we make it linger. We hope. Just as we hope our disease/afflictions/illness will go away.
Without hope, there is really nothing to make anything worth anything at all.
I’m at a loss, friends. And, not just for why things continued to go south, or why I have no answers when I desperately want them.
Right now, I’m pondering a few things:
- Re-examining my priorities. I think it’s absolutely necessary to write a list of the “needs/wishes/wants” to highlight which of the day-to-day needs to be addressed sooner than later. It also helps in the construction of a new order of ”Time.”…because I sure as shit have none to myself.
- Self-care. Goes with the ”Time.” I really don’t have a fucking clue how to make sure I make ”Me.” just as much of a priority. Just because a relationship is over, my disease still burns underneath my tears. I will require a change of perspective. I will require a newly found necessity to ask for help. Especially being left with no vehicle, eleventy-billion kids (#notreally) and doctor/specialist appointments.
- Logistics. I had to have a conversation with my 10 year old daughter and 8 year old twin boys about what to do if they ever find that their Mommy didn’t wake up. I’ll let that one sink in a little.
- Meal planning. While I’m a huge advocate of this endeavour, the reality has since provided the necessity to get shit marked down to the very Cheerio and fish fillet. Both for time and for budget. At the end of the day, I often have difficulties moving/grasping/holding with my hands. I need to plan for that shit.
- Budgeting. What the actual fuck. Clearly, I’m back to the necessity of planning for every nickel. Well, now that the penny is gone. Whatever. While I usually start now in the planning for winter boots for the kids…for YULE…I find I have been pushing aside the thought process for planning the holiday season because it’s easier than facing the emotions surrounding it.
- Escapism. Closely connected to self-care. If I don’t find myself a mental break from reality, my thoughts turn to things like driving into the river. Which won’t happen, because I have no fucking vehicle. That being said, the time that I need the escapism the absolute most…I’ve no medium by which to do it. So, I have to (and struggle greatly) to redefine my perception of escapism and find something else. Or, new. Or, whatever.
While I know I’ll never have the answers that may have brought the winds down from a Category 5 that toppled the cradle, I can help myself by building resources that can provide me some kind of relief in the chaos of my reality.
It fucking sucks. It hurts. It makes me feel undervalued and overlooked. My esteem is hanging in tatters while surfing Pinterest for all of those seemingly-empowered quotes in which you put your hopes and perceptions like a soul basket.
What happens next? I have no idea. I think it’s a matter of finding my New Groove. There’s not much added to my plate, a whole lot taken away, and now I am having to regroup from the shit left behind and it is…overwhelming. Both on an emotion and material scale. I’d post photos but…really…that helps no one.
But, like, with colourful rainbows of metals gleaming through the very cracks of my soul.
Sometimes, there are foundational cracks in relationships.
Years pass and water seeps in, freezes, thaws…and eventually the cracks break open.
Sometimes, they get filled in with gold.
Sometimes, they don’t.
Why does stuff like this happen when we’re already beaten down by disease, by The Black Dog, by the ”Everything.” that goes with managing five kids, a job, school?
I need to stop questioning, and begin filling in those cracks. Start understanding the control/loss of issue is a huge obstacle to overcome when it feels like it’s all falling to pieces.
Because, I can.
And, I matter.