Four Months

Has it really been that long?
Has it only been that long?

There is a client tonight who has been asleep since before I got here. She apparently refused to shower or eat. I tried to go in and wake her at dinner time and I got to her door and couldn't make myself knock. This big roar of panic pushed through me and my hands were shaking. It's not the same situation at all, but I couldn't help thinking I would walk in there and find her dead.
I just kept thinking about that night... finding him like that after weeks of watching him refuse to participate in his own life. Watching him refuse to eat anything I cooked. Weeks of listening to him vomit every day. Weeks of his anger and rage.

Weeks of thinking that he had so much in common with the clients I saw.

Weeks of slowly allowing myself to become more mute and helpless.

I ended up taking a break and asking the therapist working tonight to try.
The other clients were watching TV and didn't see anything, so that's good I guess.

I don't want to go home tonight.
But of course I will... and I'll be fine.
That "big roar" of panic has subsided, now I just feel empty and hollow. I will go home and I will get some rest and I will get up tomorrow and go to work. Just like always.

Weekend Roundup!

Well by Friday at noon my house was clean and my (26-page) paper was done. And I was exhausted. Totally and completely exhausted.

There was some idiot-stepmother drama (quelle surprise) about her kids seeing Gene and Lori... well, more specifically, some drama about what Lori and I might say about her in front of her kids. Seriously. Because we're like that. And also? What else would we talk about? It's not like any of us spend any time thinking about anything but her.

Whatever.

Lori and Gene made it into town just fine and we met for dinner after I got off work. They were picking up Gene's son on Saturday and their daughter was with them too... so I realized we were not having 8 for dinner Saturday night, we were having 10. I was really glad I bought extra meat!

After dinner Lori and I took our girls to see Mama Mia... great fun, y'all. Go see it, wear something festive, dance your way to the parking lot after. Seriously. I was never a huge ABBA fan, but there is something magical about the combination of ABBA and sequins that makes it almost impossible not to have fun.

Then Lori had an "asthma attack" and we went to the ER. Lori does have asthma, and she has had attack in the past bad enough to need the ER, but she is also famous for her ER trips. I can't remember the last time I spent more than 24 hours with Lori that did NOT end up in an ER trip. She was talking 8-miles a minute the whole time we were there. She was fine.

So, pumped full of asthma medication we went home and she kept me up until 4:30 talking. I got up at 6:30, went to work and zombie'd my way through the morning shift. By the time I got off, they were gone. Gene had an ear infection that got worse and they decided to drive home so he could go to their regular drop-in clinic.

Last night was supposed to be our "big dinner." We were supposed to be feeding a lot of people, so That Bad, Bad Man already had 5 pounds of pork loin cooking. Our numbers were down, but we decided to carry on. Exhausted and needing a nap, I peeled enough potatoes for 5 people, made bread pudding and cut up veggies for salad. Bean also wanted stuffed eggs so I boiled eggs.

That Bad, Bad Man came with only one of his kids instead of two, so there were only 4 of us. And a LOT of food. And we were all tired. So very, very tired.

Dinner was great... and Bean and Bad Man and I ate until we were too full to move. The other child only ate a little bit... but Bean had warned me that he rarely eats anything but cereal. (Still, he's the only kid I've ever met who wouldn't eat mashed potatoes!!)

Then they left, my mom picked Bean up and I slept pretty much from then until I had to leave for work this afternoon. I did rouse enough to eat some leftover bread pudding for breakfast... well, it's basically french toast, right?!?

Thoughtful Friday - Dreaming

"Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country."

-Anais Nin

Busy, Busy, Busy

Today has been very productive.
I woke and decided to color my hair (instead of running right off to work or cleaning or mowing the front yard). I did clean a little while my color was processing... I'm not completely lazy and worthless!

As I was stepping out of the shower my phone rang - it was Shelly wondering if I had time for lunch. I said, "Where would you like to go?"
We had sandwiches and soup and gelato. (I love you, gelato!)

Then I went to work for a little bit and realized that it would make much more sense to go to the grocery store in the afternoon and then mow when I get home rather than trying to shop at 5:30 when every other idiot in the world is also shopping... so I left work for an "errand" and came back with a car full of groceries. My perishables are in the fridge... I just hope I don't forget them tonight when I leave!!

Coloring my hair and having lunch and grocery shopping are such better uses of my time than sitting at my desk pretending to work. All of the bosses are out of town for the rest of the week so the place is more or less deserted anyway. (And the Dream Engineer just walked past my desk and said, "Hey, your hair is reddish today." Which is a total understatement. My hair is NEON fucking red today... but he's a boy and he noticed!! I love that about him).

When I get home I HAVE to finish mowing. I just have to. No more putting it off. (Ugh). And then I have to finish cleaning and then I have to finish my final paper for my class... and I have to find some time to practice caramel sauce. Mmmmmm. Caramel sauce.
I was supposed to go to Twist tonight for KIP but clearly I should stay home and get things done. (Princesses do not like deadlines).

Gene and Lori and the babies are going to be here by the time I get home tomorrow... and by then my paper will be handed in and my house will either be clean or it won't... so I have 24 hours of busy before I can just relax and enjoy my weekend.

Saturday that Bad, Bad Man is making dinner... well... he's cooking the main course. I am making mashed potatoes and salad and bread pudding, but he will get the kudos for "making dinner." (Understand that I am not complaining. I am merely stating a fact. Carry on, Master Chef). There will be 8 of us for dinner... so I also need to go home and count my plates... I probably still have 8, but we might be eating off of Chinet. Also? I know I do not have 8 chairs... so we will be eating buffet-style where we land. (I'm thinking kids at the table, adults in the living room). Awesome. I am SUCH a grownup.

Single Girl Chronicles - Mowing

So last night I decided that I would (finally) mow. I hate mowing. Hate it. And while I am a liberated gal who believes in the fair and equal distribution of labor without regard to gender, mowing is a BOY job. Like taking out the trash and killing things. BOY jobs, all of them.

But there are no boys in my house. And there will not be any boys in my house... unless I get a boy dog, but I'm pretty sure that he will not see mowing as one of his duties.

So I got home from class and cleared the larger tree droppings from my yard (seriously, my trees shed enough that if I had a fireplace I could be warm all winter) and then went around back to get the mower. In the front yard there are two large trees that provide lovely shade... and apparently keep the grass under control. It was scruffy but not obscene.

Since I'm not smoking anymore I haven't really been out in the back yard for a long time and it was quite a shock to be standing in it.

I had to wade through knee-high grass to get to the shed. No lie. There was grass up to my knees.

So I decided to mow the back yard first.

It took and hour. Just the back yard. Took an hour.
Then I was red-faced (with green legs) and sweating like a... well... like a boy. So I decided that the front could wait. No sense in stroking out in the front yard in front of all the neighbors.

I drank a hundred gallons of water, rinsed off in the shower, turned the a/c down nice and low and collapsed on the bed until my heart was beating at a nice, normal pace and the ringing in my ears stopped.

Maybe I should hire a boy. Just for the grass. Or I could get a boy llama. They're just big dogs that eat grass, right?!?

Therapy Schmerapy

So I was at the bookstore yesterday afternoon and I ran into my therapist. Well I ran into the guy who is a therapist who I saw twice and then cancelled my next appointment and have been avoiding ever since. He was, of course, an absolute professional. We made eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, and then he said nothing and made no other indication that he knew me. I said nothing and walked out of the bookstore and then realized that I was sweating. Big rivers of sweat. I also was not breathing very well.

Running into my therapist on a particularly fragile day and then having a little panic attack about it is not an accident.

There are no accidents.

I sometimes think I should go back to see him (or at least someone). But the truth is I can't want to. I think I am processing things fairly well and I think that a little fragility is called for some days. I am watching for signs of a larger breakdown and things are looking pretty good on that front.

I was having a conversation about therapy with some friends just this past weekend... and we sort of came to the conclusion that we are intelligent women (and two of us are reformed English Majors whose ENTIRE JOB in school was to identify and track thematic significance) and we can certainly try to process the things in our lives without much intervention from the outside (professional) world.

OK. Yes. In the not so distant future I do aspire to be a therapist... but hear me out.

If you are a relatively healthy person and you have a cold you do not go to the doctor. You drink plenty of fluids and get lots of rest and you deal with it.
If you are a relatively healthy person and you have the flu you do not go to the doctor. You take a few days off work, get plenty of fluids, lots of rest and you deal with it.
If, on the other hand, you are a relatively healthy person and you have had flu-like symptoms for a month and you have been resting and getting lots of fluids and you don't feel any better at all then you might seek the opinion of a professional who is trained to deal with stuff like that.
AND EVEN THEN there might be no clear-cut answers.

So if you are a relatively healthy, self-actualized person who is depressed and you are taking your prescribed medication and you hit a rough patch you might just want to take care of yourself a little and see what happens. If it gets better, great! If it gets worse or intrudes on your life you might want to seek the opinion of a professional who is trained to deal with stuff like that.
And I can absolutely guarantee there will be no clear-cut answers there.

I am a relatively healthy self-actualized person. I am taking my medication. I have the love and support of my family, my friends and my employer... even my ex-husband asks me from time to time how things are going.

In my grief group there were people who honestly did not know that bottling up your emotions is counterproductive and generally leads to more problems.
At my other job there was a client who was going through a divorce, his mother had just died and his lover had just left him... and he couldn't figure out why he was so sad.

So in this - as with all things - know yourself. Know your signs and habits. Know when you need to ask for help and when you can heal your own wounds.

Am I saying, "Hey all of you! Fire your therapists and deal with your own shit!!"
Nope.
I am saying that for me, right now, therapy is not something I want. That may change. For my friend quitting therapy might be a great idea - and it may not. She will have to try it and see how it goes.

Or I could totally be in denial.

Overwhelming

I still want to cry... Good crying, though.
I was presented with this on Saturday: My knitting (and crocheting) friends from Twist got together and knitted (and crocheted) these squares and then Shelly put them together. It's a "big hug" for when I am sad. Good timing y'all. I have been pretty sad.

It's so beautiful and warm and it reminds me that I am loved and cared for by so many people. And also cats.

The night Jeff died I felt so completely alone. Standing in my den with the body, waiting for the paramedics, not knowing what my life was going to look like anymore. What would this do to Bean? Would I finish school? Would they arrest me? Would we ever be able to come home again? Would I be able to make it through that day? And the next? And the next?

All through that day my friends came and called and held me and brought me water and reminded me to eat and sleep. All through that week I was never alone. I had never felt that kind of absolute dedication and care before that week and now I feel it again.

It is one thing for one person to do something small and sweet to make you feel loved and cared for. It's another thing entirely when a lot of people work together to make something amazing just for you.

Sally said I looked "horrified" when Shelly gave the blanket to me. I was not horrified. I was overwhelmed with love and genuine feelings of unworthiness.

Who am I that so many people wanted to do something to make me feel better?

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.