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Um, well, let’s see….
I finally launched my new business name and web site. I was surprised and intimidated by the number of times I felt a wave of insecurity threatening to take my feet out from under me during the process. But then once it was all done, the waves seemed to suddenly clear away. This morning I looked at what I had made with pride. Actual pride and satisfaction. Unless you know me well, you probably can’t appreciate how bizarre that experience is for me. I feel great, strong, ready for whatever wave hits me next. Whew… thank god. This is a much more enjoyable feeling to be having.
Our eldest son, Ari, is working out and training to meet the physical fitness requirements for the Canadian Army. Not just for some cushy desk job or assembly line position somewhere – he wants to apply to be a Combat Engineer … you know, the guys who are typically in front of the front line. Ari has thought about this for many years, and talked about doing it two years ago when he finished high school, but he set it aside for a while. Now, though, he’s becoming even more sure and serious about the decision as time goes on, rather than less. He’ll be twenty in May. Twenty is so young. I’m excited for him, and scared out of my freakin’ mind. My heart feels like it will burst with pride every time we talk with him now – he’s turned into such an amazing man. I could write a huge post just on that alone. It’s hard to stop myself from trying to hug him every time he’s within reach.
Jan is making plans to move out in June and share an apartment with her boyfriend. They don’t plan to get married for several years yet, but they’re joining their lives together seriously. She showed me the household budget she made to see if they could afford their own place, and she had everything figured out so thoroughly and responsibly. I’m happy that she’s so happy, and excited for her as she starts her adult life, but I miss her terribly already and she hasn’t even left yet.
So far Cob is managing to juggle the challenges of his first job, his first girlfriend, and three different groups of friends, all while still making honour roll marks in Grade 10. He shot up and leaned out over the winter, and is now the tallest one in our family, much to his smug delight. His girlfriend is tiny, blonde, curvy, and incredibly cute. If the fact that Cob has a cell phone stuck to his ear for every waking moment of his day talking with her, and she calls him as often or more than he calls her, is any indication, then all is going very well in his world. Unlike his older siblings, he talks with me very openly and philosophically on a regular basis. Some of the things he says, and the maturity he displays, leaves me absolutely gobsmacked and tearing up with pride. Surprisingly, my emotions about my son dating are very different than my emotions about my daughter dating. Again, that could be a long post all on its own. They don’t warn you about those kinds of things in parent books, that I know of.
My own siblings and their families had some strong cameo spots in my life recently – at least emotionally and mentally. My youngest brother, whom I’ve always been the closest with, lost what has been his business and passion for more than 20 years, thanks to some dirty local politics. He is in serious danger of losing the home that they just bought and love, and that was their first step away from the heartache of their daughter’s murder a few years ago. He’s not returning emails or phone calls. Meanwhile, my niece (from a different brother) got married, and if it wasn’t for my mother I still wouldn’t know anything about it. I wouldn’t even know her new last name if Jan hadn’t seen it on Facebook.
On a related note, a long-time deep friendship that had been a significant lifeline for me at various times seems to be drawing its last breath. For about three years now, our friendship has been … awkward, I guess, would be the best way to describe it. She was dealing with things and going places emotionally that I apparently couldn’t go, or travel beside, to share or help. I totally understand that that happens sometimes, so I tried to just wave from the distance every so often and wait it out. But the prolonged drama, and perennially unreturned calls and emails, have pretty much done me in. She is one of only about three people who know how difficult it is for me to deal with silence and non-response. I don’t think I have enough excess ego and confidence left to carry this any longer. I miss her, though.
I did manage to find enough excess ego to put my foot down and not martyr myself completely with another very close friend. She had to attend a two-day work conference in another city and was desperate for someone to go with her and look after her baby while she was there, as she “couldn’t bear the thought of being away from him overnight”. I said that I would be willing to get up at 4:00am the morning of the conference and drive the three hours there, then spend the next day and a half babysitting her 8 month old in a hotel room, even though there’s a virus sweeping through her family and the baby has “had the shits and cramps” for more than a week. My friend, however, wanted to leave an extra day earlier than necessary because she wanted to have “a leisurely, non stressful drive”, and I said there was no way I could do that. She didn’t take it very well. Time has healed things a bit, and we’ll be okay, but the rift coincided with other stupid dramas and for a while there it felt like my social circle was shrinking dramatically by the minute.
There was other stuff I thought I might write about now that I’m here, especially since it’s been so damned long since I actually, legitimately, blogged, but I’m being pulled away so this will have to do for now.
It’s a light-hearted blog that I’ve read for years – the author is a mom with a brilliant sense of humour and wicked sarcasm. This now classic post about revenge on a teenage son had me wetting myself laughing.
By all appearances on the surface, Crystal is one of the most confident and happy women you could ever hope to meet. She’s witty, kind, has a charming new husband, an adorable baby girl, two additional children whose high intelligence and deep love for their mother shines through in every funny story, and a large and adoring fan club of readers like myself.
A few weeks ago, Crystal attempted suicide and ended up in a psych hospital. She has since returned home and her ensuing posts have been a very raw, candid look at her experience there, as she tries to make sense of everything and still maintain some pride and humour.
In her latest entry, she wrote things I can deeply relate to. It’s spooky how she expressed, almost word-for-word, what I was wrestling with a year and a half ago and in desperation had tried to explain to a friend. Except SHE’S succinct and articulate.
We hung up the phone and I went through the day in a fog. I still had not begun to really examine why I was here and what had prompted my falling apart. I had always scowled at those who would blame their past for their present situation. I believed that we can be whomever we choose to be, regardless of where we came from or what others may have done to us.Simple and naive, yes?
I operated under the firm conviction that you don’t have the right to blame all of the crap you’ve done on your shitty childhood. We were made to rise above it. I still didn’t want to accept that maybe my childhood was odd and far from perfect. Maybe my parents were partly to blame for some of the things I did and the way I felt. I was overcome with guilt for ever thinking that. I felt weak. I was never a victim and I didn’t want to start being one, now. Besides, I love my parents and I think they did a pretty good job of making me who I am. Flawed, but who’s not?
It never occurred to me that I can examine the past and accept that my childhood was not normal without being vindictive or resentful toward my Mom and Dad. They screwed up a lot; so do I. It doesn’t make me love them any less fiercely than I do and it doesn’t make me think for one second that they were bad parents.
My present situation was brought on by a mix of things from childhood, my teen years and beyond. Everyone’s life is a tapestry of experiences, good and bad. I’m not special. My situations were different than others, but no more painful. I never really felt the need to drudge all of that up, but all of these therapists were telling me that digging up the bodies was exactly what I needed to do.
My heart aches for Crystal’s confusion and frustration, but sings for her strength. Fortunately, I’ve never felt suicidal, but after one of the surgeries last year, I was hit by a wave where I didn’t really care if I ever woke up again, despite the overwhelming love and concern of my amazing husband and children beside me.
I’ve made my way through a lot of things in life but I had never, EVER, experienced that feeling of utter exhaustion and defeat before. The realization that I had an “end of my rope” and it wasn’t nearly so far away as I’d imagined, scared the sheer hell out of me, and made me feel even more guilty, and ashamed, and vulnerable, than I was already feeling.
I still struggle with that newfound and unwelcome awareness. I can’t imagine what Crystal must be having to deal with, but I feel immense respect for as she struggles through it.
