sunsets and sunrises

It's been two weeks. In that time I've tried to figure out how do I say my dad has died? How do I say those words without feeling like they are coming across as calloused? How do I process before I feel?

The feelings finally came and they came like a tsunami, crashing over me and leveling me. When my father in law died my grief came quickly and intensely. When my dad died the reality of his death and the subsequent torrent of emotion took nearly two weeks. Both of the men I've called dad are gone and it feels vulnerable. 

He'd call me his darling daughter Dawn. I would grin and reply by calling him my darling father Dad. When asked what he wanted for his birthday, Christmas, Father's Day he would respond with "a basket full of hundred dollar bills". One year I decided to give him his basket full of hundred dollar bills. I bought money designed wrapping paper and cut out each individual "bill" and put them in a basket. He laughed so hard. It remains to this day my second favorite gift I ever gave him.

If you asked him how he was he'd say "finer than frog's hair." I'd giggle and tell him frogs didn't have hair. Eventually he moved on to saying "never been better." That was how he became known to friends and strangers alike. His gravestone will even include the words never been better. 

When I was a teenager, a traumatic event rocked my world. I pushed through and buried my emotions until they spilled over and I just couldn't push through anymore. My dad knew I had reached my breaking point. He called me out from school and took me to the arcade to blow off steam. I don't remember what I played or what we had for lunch that day or what we talked about or even if we talked at all. What I remember is how I felt. I felt seen and protected and loved. That day recharged my emotional tank and gave me the strength to keep pushing through the situation. 

When I was little and I'd have a nightmare, it was my dad who held me. He'd let me fall asleep on his chest and carry me back to bed. During baseball season my grandpa would come over and sit in the chair and my dad would lay on the couch; I'd lay next to my dad, squishing him terribly but he never complained, and I would fall asleep with the sound of his heartbeat in one ear and the sound of the Cardinals game in the other ear. 

Listening to his heartbeat was comforting. The sound of my daddy's heartbeat always brought my anxiety down. It was like in those moments I could believe everything would end up ok no matter how chaotic it was at the time. And now, the heartbeat of my dad, the most comforting sound of my childhood has stopped.

Dad, I love you. I'm glad I got to video chat with you shortly before you left. Until we meet again, my darling father Dad. 

when my fears are brought to light

I had an epiphany moment last night and couldn't stop the tears from falling. My oldest and I were talking about politics. We were talking about disagreeing with others with grace and agreed that very few people have that skill mastered. She brought up how much she loves talking with her grandma, my mother-in-law, because though they disagree on several issues politically they can talk and both at times offer a perspective the other hadn't thought about. They leave each other better for having had the conversation and love each other dearly.

I realized that I don't talk about the areas we disagree on with my mother-in-law. I smile and add nothing to the discussion and look for the closest change of subject without being rude. And the tears started falling when I realized why. 

I adore this woman with everything in me. I have said a few times that my parents raised me but my in-laws parented me. I love my parents very much and we have a complicated relationship. Last night as I talked and processed my thoughts, the feelings escaped from my eyes because I knew in that moment the reason I don't want to talk about any disagreements is because I never want her to think less of me. 

I also know this will not happen. She loves me as if she bore me. We have a phenomenal relationship. We live next door to each other and I go to her home to sit and talk over coffee or wine a few times a week. She is there when I need to cry and there to celebrate the wins. She is everything I hope to be to my kids partners. I seriously won the in-law jackpot. 

While I know she will not love me less if we disagree on a political issue, I really don't want to discuss things that might make her disapprove of me. This fear is a byproduct of other relationships. I've seen and experienced the breakdown of relationships due to not seeing eye to eye and few things would break my heart more than a rift in the relationship between me and my beloved mother-in-law. 

I was astonished at how deeply I felt the emotions as I talked this out. I was floored by how deeply the fear of rejection ran in my heart. In that moment I felt the pain of other rejections in my life. And I feared feeling that from this woman whom I adore. 

Fear isn't logical. I know that I know that I know she will love me no matter what and that we can disagree on things. We have disagreed on many things over the years and have always loved each other even when we don't see eye to eye. So my fear that she will think less of me or love me less if we disagree on politics is not logical and yet it is there. 

I guess it is time to do the work on my own heart to heal and not project my own fears onto a proven relationship. 

Instant friend, just add Nerf guns

 It was appointment day and Youngest dillydallied leaving the hospital. He wanted to say hi to his physical therapist down the hall and he wanted a drink of water and I was pretend sighing at him to hurry up. That was the day we met J. 

We met when his wheelchair nearly collided with ours. I chuckled while his parents scolded and apologized. J was leaving with a petrie cast. I poked Youngest and said, "Hey, you had one like that!" J launched into telling us he had Perthes Disease and just like that the two boys were fast friends. While the kids got to know each other I got to talk with other Perthes parents. We talked about school and wheelchairs and braces and how hard it is to tell an active kid to stop. I felt an instant connection to the parents while the kids were discussing their own instant connection. 

We exchanged phone numbers and met at the park. When we got together again at their house the boys had an intense Nerf gun battle while the moms sat and chatted. There was a three year age difference between them but the way they got on with each other you would never have guessed it. I've had countless requests of "When will we see J again? Can you call his mom?"

J was one of those people who never met a stranger. His smile and laugh were contagious. One day while out with my family we ran into their family. Once again the kids played and the adults chatted. When it was time to part ways J begged both sets of parents for Youngest to come home with them and stay the night. We hadn't talked about it in advance so I gave the typical parent hesitation. I didn't want my kid to impose if they had other plans. I didn't know how their family felt about sleepovers. His mom gave the same hesitation. J promptly told us that it was the same as having his cousins come for a sleepover and that Youngest was like his cousin. We ended by promising for parents to connect to plan out a time rather than something spontaneous.

That is a promise that was broken. Youngest would remind me and I would say I'd call J's mom and then would get busy with life and forget. Last week in a tragic turn of events J's life ended. I wish I'd called every singe time Youngest asked me to. I wish we would have made those sleepover plans. I wish I hadn't assumed there would be more time just because they were young. 

Today was his funeral. I've attended the funerals of too many children. It never gets easier, and it shouldn't. I think it actually gets harder with each funeral. He was a beautiful soul. He made the world a better place in his few years here. Hug your kids. Tell them how much you love them. Call your loved ones. Buy the potato salad. Make the chili. Show up to the functions. Be fully present. Because we aren't promised tomorrow.

When my time comes I hope I've made the kind of impact J did, that the memories of me are beautiful and comforting to those I leave behind.  

 

Learning from mistakes

 As my husband and kids would say, mistakes were made. 

It turns out that when your doctor puts you on medication to help with anxiety, she does so for a reason. And it also turns out that the half life of that medication isn't very long. It also seems that if you go to bed too exhausted to remember to take the medication two nights in a row that you will wake up remembering why you were prescribed the medication in the first place and will likely need to use your "rescue medicine". 

I grew up feeling like depression and anxiety were sins. In my adulthood it has taken a long time to come to terms with the fact that mental illness is an illness not a decision. It took waking up in the middle of the night feeling like I was having a heart attack that turned out to be a panic attack to decide going back on medication was the right move for me. 

There was a time in my life that I was too embarrassed to admit that I struggle with depression and anxiety. But the reality is that I do and I know so many others who do as well. I don't love writing about my mental health; it is a very vulnerable topic. I also have come to value authenticity and those who will remind us that we are not alone in our journeys. I am choosing to be open about this so that those who stumble across my writing will hear a voice saying, "I get it. You are not alone." 

I know plenty of people who would be horrified to hear I take medication to manage my mental health. I also know plenty who will applaud that fact that I do. The reality of it is that for me, this medication helps me to function at full capacity. I breathe deeper when I take it. I show up better for my family and friends when I take it. Honestly, I show up better for myself when I take it. 

Yes, mistakes were made. Now we move on. Now I will take my medication and go to bed on time so I don't collapse in my bed too exhausted to think about opening that daily pill container. And if any of you are in the same boat I would like to remind you to take your meds, drink your water, get some sleep. Take some time to take care of you; you are a valuable asset worth protecting. You are loved and you are needed. 

I'm thinking about....

 I'm not a morning person. But there is something satisfying about being awake with my coffee and computer when the house is quiet. I don't love remote learning but I am enjoying being able to drop my daughter off at work and not have to jump straight into the hustle and bustle of a school day. 

Maybe I'm more contemplative because it actually feels like fall today. It will feel like winter by the end of the day but right now it is chilly and drizzly and feels like fall. I'm thinking of things like how Hubby has shown up for over 20 years. I'm so very grateful for the way he takes care of my heart. It isn't always easy, we sometimes drive each other crazy, but we keep choosing each other day in and day out. A friend recently said the secret to her long marriage was being willing to go through the shit together and honestly I could not say it better. 

I'm thinking of my kids nearing adulthood. I talked with a friend recently and we discussed how as our kids are getting older what level of input we have as opposed to being able to make their decisions. Funny, as I typed that I realized I've had that conversation with a couple of friends recently. I'm thinking about what it will look like when my kids launch and I no longer have the daily hugs and comments of "you're the best mom ever." Sometimes I look back and wonder what things we did as parents that our kids will tell their spouses. What things will they look back with fondness and what things will they say, "Wow, my parents really blew it with that one."  We all have those moments of nostalgia or hindsight and I wonder what they will look like for my kids.

I'm thinking of the woman next door. She raised the man I love. She once told me she always wanted another daughter and that she is so grateful she got the other daughter in me. I seriously won the in-law lottery. My mother-in-law is a strong, fierce woman and I hope to be even half the woman she is. She has been such a beautiful example of allowing someone else to capture first place in your child's heart. I hope my kids have mother in laws like her. I also hope I have learned from her enough to be that mother in law to my kids in law.

I'm thinking about the job posting I saw this morning for the exact job I want. And I'm wondering how to make it work as full time with kids who have physical therapy during the regular work week. I have worked part time for several years and have scheduled kid appointments around my work schedule. I know plenty of people who work full time and make it work. I think I still get nervous about needing to take time off because of Perthes. He will need at least one more surgery and possibly two. That makes me feel overwhelmed about which job I take.

I'm thinking about politics and religion. Absolutely not writing about those thoughts right now. But definitely thinking about them. 

I'm thinking about the beach and how much I missed going this year. I am so ready for next summer and for the pandemic to be over and for camp to happen. I am so ready to dig my toes into the sand and watch the waves while I journal. I'm afraid of the ocean but I love the beach. It is my serenity place and I long to go back.

Trying to Find My Voice

 Part of what makes public writing hard is determining where my story ends and someone else's begins. I am me. I am also a wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend. The wonderful thing about life is how our stories intersect. Where our stories intersect is also sometimes hard. 

Sometimes I want to share how people have shown up in my story. But when they show up in a way that is painful it is hard for me to write about it. I'm hitting a lot of that right now. I'm not sure which parts are ok to type out and hit publish. I want to be transparent and authentic but I don't want to hurt others, even if they have hurt me. 

I want to share stories about my kids. They are nearing adulthood and I want them to have the choice of how their stories are shared. When they were little it felt different but now it often feels like it's their stories to tell not mine. 

So when I don't talk about how others are interacting in my story, I forget how to use my voice. I need to remember who I am. I need to remember the things that I am passionate about. I need to hear my own voice again. It seems like this is going to be a bigger thing than just writing again because I can't write without rediscovering my voice. 

I have controversial opinions. And I hate controversy. So publishing my thoughts and opinions seems risky also. It is shaping up to be an interesting ride in finding myself. 

Endings

I have far too much to process. How funny it is that it is always in those times of overwhelm that someone reminds me I need to write. This time, that someone was Hubby and his persuasion that the world needs my voice. I don't know the world needs it but I do know writing helps me process my thoughts and emotions. I guess it is time to write again.

A month ago I was laid off from my job of eight years. I saw it coming but it still was hard. I told my work wife a month before it happened that I thought they would eliminate my position in September. She assured me that wouldn't be the case but I just felt it in my gut. I was wrong, it happened the end of July. It didn't go down well. They called me in on my last day of vacation to let me go. They let go of 11 of us and said it was due to COVID that they had to make some tough decisions to eliminate positions. But then I learned they were hiring five new people. They said it wasn't personal but it sure feels personal when someone is being hired to do the job you used to do.

It was time to move on. I knew that. I just wanted it to be on my terms. I spent eight years of my life pouring my heart and soul into a company that easily discarded me. I want to be excited about my next but I have to grieve the loss of my community first. I've spent the last several weeks just surviving. I've played way too many games on my phone and barely done anything else. Today I finally feel like the fog is lifting some. 

I miss my work friends dearly. They had become so much more than coworkers to me. We have supported each other through so much over the years. But I don't actually miss the job. I thought I would but I don't. I find myself relieved that I'm not the one answering the emails wondering why the organization, including the volunteer team, was restructured. I find myself relieved to no longer have to have the "work voice" that spoke for the company. I find myself relieved to no longer feel fractured. I find myself relieved to be able to be fully true to myself, something I haven't felt in a couple of years.

I am going to be ok. I am going to find my next. In the meantime, I'm going to stop avoiding the emotions and embrace all the feels. I'm going to sit with my discomfort. I'm going to find my voice again.