My baby is 15 today. I am not old enough to have a 15 year old. I am not sure how I blinked that much. I am not ready to let go of him needing his Mama. I am not sure how to loosen the white knuckle grip I have on the stage of parenting that I can see coming to an end. I am certainly not looking forward to the speed at which the next few years will fly. I am not at all prepared for his Launch and yet its target is in sight. I’ve been really emotional about Coleman’s birthday this year. He’s 15; it’s not really a milestone of any sort. Doesn’t come with any real “rights of passage”. Doesn’t evoke some new freedom. So it seems a bit odd that 15 would hit my in the face, and heart, the way it has. Continue reading
Who are these people…
I cried myself to sleep last night.
It’s not the first time in the last month or so and it won’t be the last between now and March, when the clocks “spring forward”. It sucks. It makes for crappy sleep which makes for a long next day. It makes clawing my way through the days, when psych meds just aren’t enough to make my brain believe that quitting life isn’t an option, increasing difficult. It makes it harder to not let the miserable people, who want to make others miserable so they aren’t alone in their own misery, get to me. It makes getting through the “get to” list of tasks, that requires me to juggle multiple hats, really hard to concentrate on and check off, making the next day’s list longer and leave me feeling like I accomplished nothing and hence am worthless and letting the people I do life with down. It makes me feel weak and pathetic and like the person who will in fact be driven into the ground because I care entirely too much. It makes everything more difficult and ultimately makes me feel like the two things I have as non-negotiables each day, I can’t possibly succeed at: 1) Be the person I was on purpose made to be by a Creator who me as a Masterpiece in His image. 2) Be the wife to My Fave and Mama, I believe He wants me to be, to the greatest gifts He gave to me. Continue reading
A new chapter…
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: Girl, recently diagnosed with bipolar, gets into a car accident and her injuries require finding a new job. Girl uses a temp agency and gets placed at Boy’s family’s company. Boy comes into the office to meet the new Girl one day. Boy and Girl talk for 2 1/2 hours. Boy asks Girl out. Boy shows up 2 1/2 hours late for their first date. To “end” their first date, Boy crashes at Girl’s house and never leaves. Continue reading
Engagement-versary…
Me: “Honey, why did you want to marry me?”
My Fave: Deer in the headlights look and not a single word. When I pressed for a real answer, I got a sappy and sarcastic “Because I loved you and wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”
This is our life and I would have it no other way. Continue reading
Maybe someday…
I needed a moment to process this one and proud to say that I could do so rationally. It’s a nod to a great psychiatrist, that I’m blessed with provision to afford out of pocket, and her vast knowledge of medication, also blessed to afford, that made it possible to not fly off the handle in a total meltdown mess when I saw this the other day.
F-bombing Jesus and living to tell about it…
Before I write another word, let me be clear: I. Am. Good. I am safe. I am taking my meds. I am seeing my docs. I am living life – cursing it along the way at times – but living life. I am good and still here. Don’t always want to be and yet here we are. Crawling and clawing through the next 60 seconds.
Now that we’ve established that…
“Jesus, we’re really doing this today? Really? Why? I don’t want to do this for one more second. That whole ‘I know the plans I have for you…’ thing is crap. Crap. F*#! You, Jesus – Your plans suck!” Continue reading
This I can’t forgive you for…
This past Monday, My Fave having had a long day and not ever thrilled with the 5 day a week 5:30 a.m. alarm…
C at 5 p.m.: “Can _______ spend the night?”
Us: “Sure.”
C at 9 p.m.: “We’re going to walk to UDF to get snacks.”
Us: “Okay.”
J at 9:30 p.m. & out with friends already: “Can I have friends over tonight?”
Us: “Sure. But please remember Dad has to be up at 5:30 tomorrow morning and you all can’t be your normal loud selves.”
J: “We’ll be quiet, I promise.”
Us: “Okay; we’ll give you guys a chance. Please be here by 10:30 so we’re not up late waiting on you all.”
Me to My Fave at 10 p.m.: “We both have to be up early, but this time in 2 yrs, we will be working through the checklist of moving J to college and begging for a return to the night that we didn’t sleep great because we had a house full of teenagers.” Continue reading
Don’t you dare…
On the day after I turned 47, my psychiatrist listened as I described for the 2nd time in three weeks struggling under the weight of “too big” emotions. If your gifting is empathy, you have a fair grasp on what that feels like; couple it with bipolar, depression, and anxiety and it’s utterly exhausting – completely consuming and totally exhausting. Continue reading
What? We only get one day…
Happy Mother’s Day! Ann Jarvis, in 1868, worked to establish a Mother’s Friendship Day in support of families being reunited following the Civil War. Her daughter would continue in her mother’s footsteps and Mother’s Day was born. (Sonora Dodd would follow to establish Father’s Day, as a nod to her father, a Civil War veteran and single father of 6 children). But let’s be honest – 1 day! One day is all we get, and if some of your Mother’s Days have been like mine, our spouses and kids sometimes take Mother’s Day to mean a special day to honor you while you do what you do every single day. But hey, they gave us a card they bought at 11 pm the night before and even though they forgot to sign it before they sealed the envelope it’s the thought that counts, right? Ugh! Ladies, if I ever do write a book, I promise to include an entire chapter on “The Right Way to Celebrate the Women You Love”. Continue reading
Stop whispering…
Me at 9 or 10, while trying to hear what the adults at the “grown up” Thanksgiving table were saying: “Why are they whispering? We’re not a whispering family.” I tried to ease my way into the conversation by tucking myself in next to my Dad; the volume got lower but I managed to catch a few words: “Cancer. She’s just a little girl.” I didn’t know much about cancer except that it was bad and if the grown ups were whispering, it must be really bad. Like, terrible kind of bad. Continue reading
