therapy

Sometimes, some days the weight of all that presses down on my heart, my head, my soul is just too much.

Like today. For so many reasons, today was one of those days. The sadness overwhelmed, pressed down and enveloped my very core.

And so I forced myself to run. I didn’t want to; but run I knew that I must do today…especially today. Today I ran because I knew that for at least the 30 minutes and 3.2 miles that I was running all that is right now always weighing down my heart, mind and soul was behind me. It wasn’t gone. Today I feel like none of it will ever be gone in my lifetime. But at least it was behind me for a blessed half hour.

And then reality.

What a bitch reality is.

It wasn’t all bad. No. One problem that in the last month went from bad to worse to clusterfuckedupness when Bill’s car met it’s demise in the Santa Cruz Mountains last month and then when he broke his motorcycle this weekend was solved…with monthly car payments to now worry about. Then again a family with a Bay Area commute to one job and a commute to Stockton with another job and a commute to Modesto for another job and school starting next week there was no way that we could survive with just one reliable vehicle that remains.

I should be thankful. I am. But today was a horrible, rotten, no-good, very bad mental health day and so I let the can-we-really-afford-this-car-payment-when-I-get-cut-from-work-pretty-much-every-scheduled-shift overwhelm me because, I got called off from work. Of course!

Bill handed me the keys telling me to take it for a drive. So I did.

I drove and drove and drove all over the place, past orchards and vineyards and parched fields and into the sunset with the windows rolled down and Iggy Azalea loudly promising that in spite of her 99 problems you won’t be one on the radio.

Therapy, much needed therapy for a pretty emotionally fucked up day.

Tomorrow’s another day. It might be a better day. It might not be. But it will be tomorrow.

One day, one hour, one minute at a time.

It’s therapy.

 

because doing your taxes (or your kids’) isn’t nearly hard enough

Arrrggghhh!!!!

Tax filing season! It’s got to be done, whether I want to or not. FAFSAs have been filed and well, mom and dad’s tax returns are needed to complete that little bit of fun. So receipts and papers are gathered and tax prep program purchased and ready to download…

Four and a half hours later….

still trying to download…

then thirty more minutes pass and there is this.

WTF???!!!

I seriously wanted to cry.

I did cry just a little.

Who cares about FAFSAs and taxes I know that we will owe and helping the kids file their EZ taxes.

Who the heck cares about any of that?!

This screen makes me want to cry.

My picture files….

My ancient, slower than my granny paced running time laptop with my precious picture files and my writing and, and, and, and…

:::SOB!!!:::

I shut down the computer, wait a minute or two, or more then restart it and…

pray….

Please, oh please, please, please, please….

It takes forever to turn on and start because this laptop is old and decrepit. Hazel wasn’t  even born yet when this laptop was fired up for the first time.

Finally!

It’s up and running.

I spent the rest of the evening before dinner backing up over 7,000 picture files from 2013 and the first two months of 2014 onto my external hard drive because…priorities, people!

Then after dinner I try one more time to download the tax prep program and…

…twenty minutes later it is downloaded, up and running and ready to prepare the taxes here under the Big Top. And I am a quivering, Jello-like mass of feelings and stress and tears.

So much for a tax prep program that wants me to be comfortable when filing my taxes.

The taxes will have to wait for another day.

just not worth the effort

If you value something, treasure it, love it, want it, you work hard for it to care for it, treasure it, love it. It takes a helluva lot of effort, but then again it doesn’t feel like work at all.

Then there comes the days when you just throw your hands up and scream “F#ck it all! Why even bother?” and pull on the most comfy t-shirt and yoga pants and comfort yourself with the most comforting of comfort food and the NY ER marathon because some days just are not worth the effort. Not at all.

Funny how this got more attention than I have received in days…weeks…months.

It’s the yoga pants I’m sure.

the Mondayest of Mondays

OMG, anyone else feeling like today is more Monday than the average Monday?

Looking at my son this morning as I dropped him off at school I felt like today is the Mondayest of Mondays.

Mountains of laundry, vacuuming and dusting await along with a pile of other projects that must be started or finished. There just isn’t enough coffee on a Monday like today.

where I just said oh feck it and pounded some nails into the walls

We moved into our current Big Top in June 2011 and until today none of my photographs or art hung on the walls…none. Sure there was the very much needed calendar and clock on the wall…and in Jodie’s room are boy bands all over the walls surrounded by dance and school spirit posters…but nothing else was hung. And until we hung that ruler I made for Daniel in the sitting room, I really had no desire to do anything about it. All my treasured photographs and art remained boxed up and stored in the little cupboard under the stairs; which is supposed to be for my grandgirls to hide their toys to play in…after I paint over the hideous, half-assed fuschia chalkboard paint job. I have no clue about that. But yeah, we have had naked rental white walls and after losing the Big Top we built and made into a home, I just could not bring myself to hang my pictures.

I had a lot of good reasons:

  • The interior of this house needs to be painted…properly. I like my landlord a lot. He’s agreeable. He took a chance on us in spite of our sad financial state of affairs when we lost our home. He let us keep our dogs even though he had originally said no to pets. He looks the other way when my grandbabies’ cat, Bagheera comes over to visit. He let me paint the bannister. Yes, he is a pretty decent landlord…who did a craptastic job of patching and repainting the walls in this house. So I told myself that as soon as I had the money…and the time…and the energy I would paint these walls. Of course that would mean climbing a giant ladder for the 20 foot high ceilings in the sitting room and dining room. I look over at my darling husband and he shakes his head no..
  • I had babies and toddlers underfoot a lot. I don’t watch the girls full time anymore but they are still here a lot…almost everyday.
  • the greenhouse that is this house would ruin my treasures for sure.
  • and all kinds of other lame good excuses.

Truth be told I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Michelle pretty much hit the nail on the head (yes, pun intended) when she shared with me that she hasn’t been able to do the same thing in her current home because it would be as if she has set roots in that house…something after a few years she doesn’t want to do…like me, for a lot of reasons.We’re planning on a shared shrink session to delve into these issues of ours.

Losing the original Big Top was hard on me. There was so many different kinds of feelings that held me down in such a way that I could not move to make this house, this rental, into a home. A home for me, for my darling husband, for my children. Of course I was so wrapped and bound up in my depression and grief that I couldn’t see the effect that it has had on my family…

until Abby came downstairs as I hung up the first picture, a lovely print of a field of poppies, and said, “You’re hanging up the pictures! Now it will feel like we’re home!

You know what? She was right.

It was feeling less hollow.

A little more warm and not in that it is as hot as a freaking greenhouse way.

I still want to paint because this is just stupid. Later.

I will say that this pinterest idea really worked out well.

Oh but there is so much more left.

But it’s a start.