Those days when you feel like you are walking through thick, wet cement. Those days when you have a to-do list a mile long but you get to none of it because forty other things came up that you had to deal with right away. Those days when you cannot feel anything but overwhelmed. Those days when you are sad and dark and feeling so far behind. Those days when it feels like the world is closing in on you. Those days when there is so much to fix and do that it overwhelms, so you do nothing because you just can’t manage it.
Those days are hard and lonely. Those days can eat at your sense of self and keep you from moving forward. Those days are exhausting. Those days can make you want to sleep for a year.
Those days are the days when you have to take deep, soulful breaths. Those days are the days you need to remind yourself that it won’t feel this way forever. Those are the days you need to do something really good and loving for yourself. Those are the days when you must give yourself a break. Those days are OK.
Those days are hard and sometimes it seems there are way too many of them strung together. Those days can take you down. Those days are the times that you need to look for the littlest things that make you smile and are full of beauty and focus just there for awhile. Those days can be long and the hours can drag but the moments in the day that you allow some light in can make up for some, if not all, of the darkness.
Those days are a season to be endured but not a lifetime. Those days will transform into other days at some point, and once they do, you’ll be so grateful for the new sense of light and happiness that you feel. Those days can be endured.
On those days, please remember that you are not alone and that you are loved. On those days, know that so many others are experiencing similar struggles. On those days, take care of you.
“Nothing can dim the light which shines from within.” – Maya Angelou
December 1st. Yes! We made it through November. Is there a way to request that November be stricken from the calendar permanently? I am sure we could celebrate Thanksgiving and November birthdays in December. But December brings its own set of bullshit. Let’s just jump from September to January and extend all the months by a few days… Ok, Ok, I get it – not possible.
My youngest daughter is over the moon that it is December and the Christmas season is here. She is sitting next to me right now on the floor, with her new Santa footie jammies on, drinking hot cocoa and eating cinnamon toast, in front of a fire. By her request, the tree has been up since last weekend and the rest of the house is in transition to holiday madness. She’s thrilled.
I am never that thrilled. Bringing the tree in from the garage is such a task every year and I always end up scratched and mean because of it. Only half the lights are working on it. I don’t want to spend the money to address that issue. My girls asked if we could get a real tree this year. Ummmm…if I don’t want to go spend money on new lights, do you really think I want to lay down $75 for a tree? One that will be dropping needles on my rug from day one? Nah – I’ll pass. So the tree is up in the living room – half lit. And no ornaments because you can’t put on the ornaments until all the lights are on – right? That’s what my dad always said. This situation needs to be addressed this weekend cuz it’s depressing af.
The fact that she is so happy about Christmas makes me smile. This is a very special girl with a heart the size of Texas, and she brings all of us together with her amazing spirit that is evident all year long. November was tough for her too this year. She really struggled on the deathiversary, more that the rest of us did. She was going thru a lot of transitions – new school, new loss in her life, dealing with some learning issues, anniversary of her dad’s death. Children grieve so much differently than adults do and she has a very unusual path – grieving a dad that died before she was born. Children tend to grieve in fits and spurts – they take a break from it, which is such a superhero power. As little kids grow up, they continue to re-grieve the loss as they understand it better. Death changes from make-believe and a faraway concept, to reality and the revelation of the enormity of the loss. As kids continue to grow, they then re-grieve the loss as they experience events that their person “should” be there for: sports, awards ceremonies, illness, holidays, prom, graduations, weddings, etc. It’s a hell of a path. My girls have constantly impressed me with their openness about their feelings, their ability to talk about what is going on for them, their ability to share their journey with others, and their resilience.
I loved Christmas all my life – until Steve died. And what’s funny about that is that he really didn’t love it, and I really did everything holiday related for our family. He was the guy that was out getting my present on Christmas Eve. He was so damn touchy about everything and the holidays could just set him off. He loved seeing the girls happy on Christmas morning and he loved telling me to get in the car in my pajamas to go drive around and look at Christmas lights together. We did have some wonderful holiday memories together.
After he died, the first Christmas I don’t even remember really. I remember that 15 days before, we had the wind and ice storm of a lifetime and lost power for 7 days. Mind you, this was just a month after he died so my garage freezer was chock full of all nature of casseroles and other goodies that were so generously brought to us. All gone. We spent that powerless week with my mother and father in-law that lived not too far away and had power. Being away from home was really hard after Steve died and it was rough being gone for 7 days. Not to mention the fact that I had shopping still to do, wrapping to do – and I had just figured out that I was pregnant. Good times.
I don’t know why Christmas is a struggle for me every year still. I suppose it’s simply the having to do all of it myself and managing to pull it all off for my girls. This year, money is tighter than it’s ever been, so I have already prepped them for a smaller Christmas morning. And they will be OK with that. We are a strong unit – all for one and one for all, and they are fully aware of the financial issues that are going on at the moment. My kids are true survivors.
When I get right down to the heart of it, I simply hate that I am an only parent to these amazing kids. I hate that our family doesn’t look like it’s “supposed” to. I hate that there is always someone missing. I hate that I am alone. Again. I hate it all but I keep going and pushing forward because I love them all so damn much. I am a very strong person but every now and then I need someone to hold my hand and hug me tight and tell me everything is going to be all right. And drive me around to look at the lights in my jammies.
“If my life has taught you anything, I hope it is these three things: