August 2, 2012 by Marj Hatzell
As you’ve probably noticed, I haven’t been writing very much lately. And by writing, I mean blogging. And by noticed, I mean you probably haven’t. All eleven of you*.
It’s been a year. A very hard year. Last August started the avalanche of nonsense in my life. Sick parents, dead parents. You know, the usual fun stuff! Then my kids were in medical/mental health crises and things were fairly scary and bleak.
I herniated my sacral discs again and got shingles immediately after. Then I gave my husband shingles and then he got a nasty concussion. The same week we had a disastrous weekend at the family cabin.
I thought I was going to go to a big-ass blog conference this summer (starting today, in fact) and it turns out Bugaboo was off this week and there was no freaking way in aitch-EE-double-hockey sticks it would work for me to go. So that was a total bummer.
And while things are starting to look up and we’ve been having more and more improvements and returning to the “new normal” I have been zapped. I feel like I’m just trying to make it day-to-day. Survival mode. I get done what absosmurfly has to be done and that’s about it.
Then I started putting pressure on myself. Why was I faking-it-to-make-it? Why wasn’t I able to do everything? To be everything? And it dawned on me! I had a few lightbulb (LED, of course!) moments. To wit:
A) I am not supermom and I put too much pressure on myself to be so.
2) I make my life look too easy and while I try not to sugar coat it, I probably should be more…I dunno, forthcoming with information?
D) I have been so freaking busy with straightening out everyone else’s messes and taking care of everyone else that I never had time to actually grieve my father’s death.
That last part was a huge brick-to-head-resulting-in-concussion. I haven’t had time to mourn. I just jumped right into action and did what I had to do, whether it was make arrangements, help my mother, drive to appointments, take care of my kids, etc, etc. In other words, I went on living. But sometimes when you go a person goes on living they are really just going through the motions.
Wanna know how I really feel?
I feel like that four month period that happened between my father’s diagnosis and his subsequent death went far too fast. As in, it was a ride spinning out of control, one I didn’t want to be on. And we perfectionist-perfect-supermom types like to be in control.
I feel like I need time to just sit and do nothing and time to exhale. Because, you now, that’s gonna happen in my house.
I feel like I need to get a life. A social life. Go out more. Try some new restaurants. Or pubs. Or anything.
I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs. I feel like it isn’t fair. It’s not fair that my kids lost the only grandfather they knew. It’s not fair that he didn’t get to see Bug Boy dive this summer. It’s not fair he isn’t dropping by every week with a bag of pretzels for the kids. It isn’t fair I don’t get to make him his signature lunch, grilled cheese and soup. It’s not fair that my mother is without her husband, my siblings are without their father and my kids and niece and nephews are without their grandfather.
It’s not fair. And it sucks.
But hey, now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, I’m able to move forward. I’m going to work on processing my thoughts. I’m going to get to a better place.
And I’m going to eat potatoes.
And I’m hoping all of that will help me get my mojo back.
*Estimate based upon completely arbitrary algebraic equation that has absosmurfly nothing to do with math or actual page visits. The number eleven was used primarily because I GO TO ELEVEN.