A Decade

This post is kind of piggy-back on my last.

There is something so connected about depression/anxiety and trauma. I am jittery and want to run or keep moving, yet I don't have the energy and just lay around in sweats, pretending to be, "present" while playing blocks or Barbies with my kids; mind constantly in motion, yet zombie status at the same time. It is all so weird, yet so very real. 

 

Besides the trauma-ghost living in my body, I have come across a few things these past 2 days that sent my mind spinning. I was cleaning out a table/desk that we have kept a Peace Lily on since Dan's funeral (Only plant I have ever kept alive, and thriving, I might add). Shoved in this little table were, 2 bathing suits, a Lilly Sport Boats sweatshirt (I'd been missing that), a candle, 2 Christmas cards from the early 2000s, and then, there they were:

A stack of square manila cards rubber-banded together. I took the band off, and immediately it all came flooding back. I sat for a good 30 minutes reading these cards from the 3rd grade class of 2009/2010. I remember receiving these cards a few weeks after Dan died. I read each one of them, and dropped alligator tears on most. Reading them for a second time, the other day, brought such a different wave of emotion. I laughed at, "My rat died when I was 3, so I know how you feel" and one that made me think, no truer words, She wrote: "I am so sorry you are lost". I know she meant, I am sorry for your loss, but boy was she ever right as rain. I was so very lost. 

Then today rolls around. I am tired as soon as I wake up. Carbs and kid overload have me needing a juice cleanse and a momcation. The kids are eating a morning snack and watching The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl for the catrillionth time. I take a sip from my 20 oz, full to the brim, second of the day, coffee. I use this two minutes of time when the kids have food in their mouths to scroll FB. "Your Memories on Facebook" is at the top of the feed. This is the post that pops up:

Besides the fact that was a ridiculous, "status" that I am not sure why I thought anyone would give a shit about (Thanks Doreen and Michelle for showing me some love), the sheer fact that in just about 24 hours post-post, my entire life would be on a different path. I would be a 29 year old widow with 2 fur babies, kept alive for the next several months by Ensure and my sister. I hope I enjoyed that lovely and relaxing day. 

Did I read this "memory" this morning and think (like a normal person), wow, that is so wild, what a crazy, winding road...? NO. It gave me full on permission to become an anxiety psycho. I immediately began creating my own chaos. When this happens, I think of all of the horrible things that could possibly happen to my family. I start staring like a crazy person at my children thinking about what things about this exact moment I will remember when they are gone OR what will they remember about me? Nick was Levi's age when his mom died. Will Levi have memories of me when he gets older? Will he remember how much we laughed or will he remember me today in my sweatpants, frantically scrubbing things around the house, because cleaning and organizing is the only thing I feel that I can control right now? Would Nick sing Twinkle Twinkle to Lawson every night? 

STOP IT!!!! NONE OF THIS IS GOING TO HAPPEN!! THIS IS NOT HOW THE WORLD WORKS! THIS IS NOT HOW GOD WORKS!!  (That is my sane self yelling at my psycho self at this point in my created state of crazy.) 

Then the migraine kicked in and I needed to lay down. Emotional activity is harder on me than physical activity! Thank goodness for Nick, coming home from work, seeing the need to be alone in my eyes and taking over on daddy-duty. After some Motrin, a rest, a hot shower, and prayer, I headed to CVS (aka my happy place), the grocery store (without children this can also be a very happy place), and the liquor store. I asked the woman behind the counter for her smallest bottle of Patron for my date with Dan tomorrow. She only had a medium size and said, "come on, go big or go home." I smiled and said, "That's fine, he'll be happy". She smiled back, and said, "Of course he will, a pretty lady buying him a drink, who wouldn't?"  If she only knew that we were talking about someone who is dead. Dead for 10 years. Gone in the blink of an eye, forever 30 yrs old, for 10 whole years. 

The night has come and my chaos is subsiding, although there is some melancholy under the remaining tightness in my chest. 

The Patron is chilling in the fridge, my kids are tucked in safe and tight, and now I have spilled my truth onto this keyboard and into your hearts. I won't fully be able to rest until Nick makes it home safely from his football draft tonight, but I am starting to already feel a bit better. 

I know in my sane mind that tomorrow is not "doomsday". It is not the end of the world, and I will  not be sitting around holding my breath waiting for something terrible to happen.  I will wake up positive, I will go for a run to round out my running miles for the year at 530!!!! Then I will pack up Patron and meet Dan for our annual drink. After our drink, my family and I will go to a party to welcome 2020 with open arms and big smiles. Thankful for each other and all that we have. 

As always, I am thankful to you, whom allow me to share this journey. Happy New Year. 

How Do You Remember?

When someone says, "Do you remember....?", you immediately begin searching your mind for stored information in the vast filing system that is our brain, but did you know that your body actually remembers too? Our bodies are capable of remembering on a cellular level. My therapist explained this to me last December when I told her that I was having the sensation of being startled throughout the day, and nothing was "startling". My fingertips would randomly go numb and I would think that I was having some sort of circulatory malfunction. The weirdness passed and I trucked through December like I always do, enjoying the magic and reason of the season through my children's eyes.

The beginning of this December brought so much excitement in our household. Lawson experiencing all-things-December that go along with being in school now. Levi is at that perfect age where EVERY Christmas blow-up, EVERY Santa on TV, EVERY ornament, EVERY light perpetuates a joyous smile-to-scream of electrifying excitement.

On the 3rd, Lawson had an ENT appointment where we learned that she needs to have her tonsils and adenoids removed. Even though, the thought of having my little love go under for an operation is terrifying in itself, I was quite calm and realized that, "the juice is totally worth the squeeze" in this case. Lawson breathes like she's been hittin' Virginia Slim Menthols for 20 years and snores like a bear. She is experiencing apnea which makes this is a no-brainer.

It was either that day or the next, I started having a tightness in my chest. It felt like I couldn't quite get a deep breath or like I was wearing a significantly too tight bra. I talked to Nick about it, and mentioned it to a few people, but wasn't overly concerned, because I am me, and I always have weird stuff going on.

I was not yet putting 2 and 2 together.

I hadn't had moments of sadness or allowed my mind to wonder into darker Decembers. It wasn't until I had a dream of Dan playing his guitar and singing by the Christmas tree at my parents' old house, for me to wake up, sweaty and gross and think, "That's it!" "It is freaking December!" My body is remembering!!

My body recognizes that this is another Holiday season without my mom. My body remembers that on in December we lost Levi's twin sister. My body remembered that ridiculously bumpy and painful ride home from Johns Hopkins when I embodied 2 heartbeats, although on the way there, I had 3. My body remembers that on New Years Eve 10 years ago, TEN freaking years ago (in 9 days), I was getting ready for a fun night out. My body was remembering that drive to the ER, My body was remembering what the cold rain smelled like that night. My body was also creating chaos around Lawson's upcoming surgery that my mind wasn't even touching! My body was telling me that I am not allowed to have the bright and shiny December my mind believes I deserve.

Once all of this was laid out in front of me like a map, I was able to began my every year December healing. It begins with all of my blessings: My incredible family, our 2 children that ooze happiness and personality, a tribe of friends like no other, and a husband that is dedicated to our family beyond compare. It ends with the celebration of Christ's birth and the excitement of what a new year brings us.

Honestly, the more I think about it, it doesn't end. December is a truly happy time for me in recent years. My kids' eyes gleam with so much wonder and awe that it's easy to, "believe" right along with them. December will always come and will inevitably go, but I will always continue to heal. I will always continue to remember, and I choose to remember the good.

I will be okay when my body chooses to forget. I will be better than okay, I will be better.

Having my baby go under the knife next month is a whole new beast, but I'll tackle that month upon arrival!!

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy All Holidays and may the new year bring you and your family nothing but wonderful things that you will always remember. All my love.

The Girl

A while back, BK introduced me to Jason Isbell and The 400 Unit. I didn't listen to the entire Nashville Sound album right away. Then some major curve balls were thrown at me and my normal radio stations were not adding any kind of peace to my drives. I popped in the CD and started listening. Every song spoke to me for a different reason. I cried about Dan when listening to, "If We Were Vampires", I cried for my mom with, "Something to Love", but it was, "Hope the High Road" that I needed to hear and boy did I wear that song out.

Those curve balls ended up being blessings in disguise as my rollercoaster rolls on. New music gets played and life keeps rocking and rolling. On a run the other day, I had all of my millions of songs playing randomly when, "Molotov" started. It got me thinking about change, my change. 

I smiled as his mellifluous voice sang:

Another life but I still remember
A county fair in steamy September
In the Year of the Tiger 19-something

I thought about The Girl that I used to be back in 19-something. I was fearless. I was loyal to a fault...an enormous fault. I was ride-or-die before ride-or-die was cool. I made some bad choices and dared the world to stop me. 

At the start of the 20-something, I was The Girl behind the bar at Redeyes. I was opening cans, unscrewing little wines, slinging cheap drinks, smoking cheap stoags, and taking too many shots. I was the The Girl down for a good time, hell, I was the good time! 

2008 I became The Girl married to Dan. I am smiling now as a memory of us at Woody's just crossed my mind, and that busted white mini-van. 

After Dan, I was a different girl. I was The Girl who felt lost. I was The Girl who runs crying out of a grocery store, leaving her full cart because a man walked by that smelled like Dan's deodorant. I was The Girl filling out forms in doctor's offices and making a snotty-tear-filled specticle because my only options were, "single, married, or divorced"...I wasn't ANY of those things. 

As the lyrics of the playing song continue, the next verse catches me up to real-time:

Time flies when you're making babies
Do you miss your little black Mercedes
Do you miss the girl you once had time to be?

I think about The Girl I am currently. Almost 40, happily married with 2 extremely high-energy kiddos. I never had a little black mercedes, but time does fly when you're making babies. I thought for a moment: Yes, I do miss The Girl I once had time to be. I would go back in a heartbeat,  I would go back only long enough to look at myself in the mirror at each phase of my life and say, "The best is yet to come."

Jason sings, "I hope you still see fire inside of me."

There have been situations and circumstances that have definitely dimmed the flame, but I hope you still see fire inside of me.  

Mom is a Loaded Word

For a long time I really wasn't sure whether I wanted to be a mom. I remember bar-tending and couples with young kids would come in asking for virgin daiquiris and if we had a kids' menu. I was thinking the whole time, take your kids to Chik-Fil-A, we are a bar!!! Or the times I walked out of school on a rough week Friday evening and was SOOOOOOO happy I wouldn't have to see another kid for 48 hours. I was only responsible for me, and I didn't even do a very good job at that!

When J had Lilly, my feelings changed. There are no words for how much I loved that little girl. Even with all the love I had for her, I still took her into a liquor store on my hip with no shoes. I banged her sweet little head on the top of the car at least a dozen times trying to get her into that damn car seat, and probably gave her food that she wasn't supposed to have until certain milestones. I was the very loving, very good intention-ed, crazy aunt.

Now I have 2 of my own. More times than I should admit, I am driving and looking in my rear view mirror at 2 sets of striking blue eyes, thinking....they belong to me. I am their MOM. I am the one that is responsible for their happiness, safety, morals, manners, nutrition, boo-boos, O.M.G the list goes on! I think, I am not that old. I think, I am not that responsible. I think, Jesus take this wheel!

I honestly don't think I have 100% of that mom "gene". I have a track record to prove it. Lawson was 5 days old and we took her to her 1st pediatric appointment. It was snowing and we started the car probably an hour before we put her in it. We zipped her up in the bucket seat blanket, we made sure she was fed and dry. Then we proceeded to drive 10 miles an hour to the appointment. We checked in, Lawson was still asleep, and we were high-fiving each other at this awesome parenting we were doing. Then she pooped. No big deal, right? By then I had changed at least 100 diapers. Sure, but WE DIDN'T BRING A DIAPER BAG!!! We had to "borrow" supplies for the doctor's office all the while wishing we could take back all that confidence and crawl into a hole where we would pray that social services wouldn't be called on our novice parenting asses.

When Levi came around, I definitely felt more comfortable, but maybe I shouldn't have. I picked them up from Cheryl's one day and it was a torrential downpour. I raced Lawson to the car first under the umbrella and got her strapped in. I then ran back for Levi and clipped his bucket seat in, not a drop of water on either one of them. I went snail speed all the way home. I could barely see anything. My palms were sweating, I was praying the whole time. We made it home and I couldn't wait to get my babies in the house. When I set Levi's car seat down and went to grab him out, I was horrified. My heart sank, and I started to cry. I NEVER BUCKLED HIM!! He was sitting with the straps on, but not clasped. I couldn't even bring myself to tell Nick what I had done. I beat myself for DAYS over that one. (Still kind of am, if I'm being honest.)

Last summer we had a bunch of consecutive rainy days. I had cabin fever and really needed to get the kids out of the house. Even though at that point, I have had 2 years practice taking 2 kids out and about, it still gives me anxiety. I managed to brush my teeth and get my hair knots out of sight and in a bun, but there was never time to shower, let alone for makeup in the summer. I got to the indoor playground, and there was a line. I thought, ok, we can do this. I have snacks, water, juice, and my best mommy happy face, it's all good. Levi steals the gold fish from under the stroller in front of us and begins to eat them, and it starts to rain. 45 minutes in line and we are in. It's hot and crowded. Levi is crying because he sees the slide but can't just run to yet, neither of them understanding that mommy still needs to pay. Even though my upper lip is sweating, I am still pretty confident. I had been able to repay the goldfish, and I had remembered to pack socks! WINNING!

15 minutes later, I am pitting out through my shirt. Levi went up the slide ramp and never came back down. As I am trying to play it cool, because where could he have gone- it's just up a slide, he has to come down- I have made eye contact with a former intern from decades ago who is handling the chaos of the place way better than I. She refers to me as Ms. Lilly and has that look on her face like, "I almost didn't recognize your old and sweaty ass" Then a fluorescent green shirt is walking toward me with a screaming Levi in her arms, saying, "Is this your mommy, honey? I found him at the top of the slide, crying"I smile very nicely and act as though I am completely Ok with this chain events, thinking - Thanks lady, I knew he was up there, if you weren't 500 kids over capacity, I might have heard him crying myself.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I then spy a person I went to high school with sipping coffee with a buddy looking so calm and collected and actually looking like she's having fun in this hell hole! After the hour of torture, I forced them to the exit. Moms are all kumbaya on mats they brought from home eating snacks and peanut free shit. I thought, you know what? I brought snacks, we can sit and have a snack too. I proceeded to hand out gold fish, teddy grams, gummies, and drinks. Then another (not sweating and fresh-makeup) mom came into the room and says to her brood, "lets sanitize before we eat anything." Shit! I didn't think about sanitizing, now my kids are going to have hand/foot/mouth because, again, I wasn't thinking like a, "mom".

Lawson recently turned 5 and we had a kid party at Totsville. I stressed over goody bags, food, decorations, balloons, wanting everything to be perfect....but forgot to bring forks!

Even though I might have been given a half-gene when it comes to mommying, I wouldn't trade this role for any other job in the world. When my Lawson tells me, "You're the best mommy in the world" and when Levi looks at me and says, "Lub you, Mommy", everything else melts away.

My household is far from perfect, but we laugh. We laugh and giggle and joke ALL THE TIME. My kids will most likely not remember that I sometimes made them brush their teeth in the car with sippy cups of water, (just swish its around and swallow it down guys) but they will remember that we danced (A LOT) and made our sides hurt with laughter.