I just don't know what's up my skirt some days. This is usually when Sing4Joy asks me if I'm PMSing and I bite her head off, stomp my feet, gnash my teeth, and holler in my most indignant tone, "I'm not PMSing!?!?!"
I've been sorting through, like, almost a thousand unread blogs from bloglines and sadly gave in to the fact that, even though I bear a striking resemblance to Wonder Woman, I am no superhero and cleared out my bloglines. However, I read something over at Gretchen's place about some of the issues she's been going through, and in my heart I wanted to say, "Yes! I know that feeling so well! Is that what that is?" Her image of teetering on the edge of the precipice of depression, wondering which direction she's headed, strikes a chord in my heart. While I've never been diagnosed with depression, I'm positive that I'm the kind of person that goes through emotional seasons. Once I catch on to the changing of the seasons in my heart, I get a little anxious; I am completely unsettled and relatively agitated until I can get my bearings again. Call it fear of the unknown, avoidance, PMS, or lack of sleep. It's unnerving either way.
I've been on a war path with my kids. Can't really explain why, but I've been so uptight about ridiculosities (Is that a word? If not, then it is now.) I believe reasonable people call this "the small stuff." I have been stern with myself about personal habits that have crept in and taken root in a temple of which I have worked hard to take better care. Things that have been my passion still are extremely important to me, but I can't seem to take the first step to getting them done. To top it all off, I've been really emotional and have even caught myself being short with R.
This time of year naturally turns my mind toward tragedy. Is that a little dramatic of me? Of course -- have you met me?!? T.'s birthday would've been this Friday, and he passed away four years ago this November. These are not necessarily days I dread all year, but as the weather turns from face-of-the-sun hot to mildly-sweaty hot (a.k.a. fall in the south), I believe my subconscious becomes aware of a season of grief, of timelines, of my current circumstances, complex and beautiful as they are.
I often find myself wondering these days: Have I always been this way? Why am I so wound up about certain things? It would be such relief to be able to brush these things off and look at the bigger picture, and many times I am able to do that. Other days it just seems so impossible. Why is it that Li'l G gets on my last nerve to the point that I need to walk out of the room? Why can't Bud listen to me and follow simple directions like "don't eat that mud" or "stop climbing on the handrail of the escalator"? Why can't I see these beautiful babies that God placed in my arms and be kinder and gentler toward them? Why am I constantly so exasperated with others whose opinions are different from mine? Why can't I be more of a team player? and so on...
I have had two friends in the last ten days become widows. One woman was a determined, dedicated caregiver to her ill husband for years who was able to watch his passing with the knowledge that his days were coming to an end. Another woman had her husband snatched from her loving grasp almost as quickly as mine. How distinctly I remember the feeling of, "What just happened here," the feeling of looking at my non-breathing husband and wondering what I was going to do. I was reminded on Sunday of the passage in psalms that God takes care of widows and orphans and puts the smack down on any evildoers that come their way. I know without doubt that is true. That doesn't diminish the circumstances but certainly made me feel like I had someone on my side to take care of me.
I wanted so desperately to pick up the phone and talk to someone. I needed an ear to chew on. I wanted to ask someone, "Is it just me, or is it normal to feel like you don't think you can handle one more day of messes in the bathroom, mowing the lawn, a dirty house, and not having a helpmate to help shoulder the load?!?" Then I realized that almost every phone number on the contacts list of my phone was that of a person who was married. And while many married individuals do, indeed, end up doing more than their fair share of the parenting/cooking/cleaning/etc., and spouses of deployed soldiers get an intense snapshot of that life, it's just not quite the same. And in my mind, R. has little to do with this because he didn't put me in this situation in life, and he's not my ticket out of single parenthood.
I know many of you would love to hear that this is when I put the kids to bed early and curled up with my Bible. It's not a bad idea, but that's not what I did. I've exhausted my concordances with references about widows and comfort and so on. I needed to put children to bed and wind down for the night. Bud ends up talking to me about how he doesn't want to go to heaven because he will miss us and our house. I tell him that he doesn't have to worry about going just yet, but that heaven is a really wonderful place that we'd all like to be at some point. Then his line of questioning goes toward old people and dying, boo-boos that don't get better, and the inevitable "I miss my Daddy" tearjerker. We've had these conversations before, and as the kids get older, they can understand more and thus the conversations become more detailed. And while many people might pooh-pooh tonight's display as tears of exhaustion at bedtime (which some of them truly were), seeing the pain on his face as he put his chunky hand to his face and cried just cracked my concrete heart into powdery bits. Our tears mingled on our wet, sticky cheeks as we just sat there and let it flow.
Bud has to take family pictures to school tomorrow. Joy of joys! What a fun time of explaining our family situation when you're the only four year-old in the room who does not have a dad in the picture. I'm so thankful that the kids are not ashamed of this and explain it quite matter-of-factly to anyone who asks. They also have a clear understanding of how R. fits into the picture and how that is growing and changing. I was proud of him, though. When I asked him which picture of our family he wanted to bring, he said he wanted on with R. I asked if he wanted one of our family with T. or one with just the three of us to take as well. He said he wanted to take one with R. and and one with T. but not one of the three of us. What does that say about how he sees our family? I'm not entirely sure, but I feel good about how he feels about how our family will hopefully look in the future.
Maybe I just needed that good cry. Maybe I've got a hormonal thing going on (extremely likely -- apologies to my male readers). I don't think I have a season of sadness up ahead. I definitely feel the inclination to slow down these days and heed the call of the Spirit to look upward and inward. I am the sort of person who must be intentional about not moving and going constantly; it goes against every fiber of my being, but I know that I must do it. I want to enjoy my children at this fleeting time in their lives. I want to savor the fading of the heat and humidity from the air. I want to relish in the sound of a deep, familiar voice on the other end of the line that makes my heart smile even when the rest of my day has stressed me out and brought me down. There are too many lovely, precious blessings in my life and in the world to appreciate to allow something else to tug at my heart and throw me for a loop. Where ever this post finds you in your day, I hope it finds you feeling positive and hopeful. If not, go ahead and get the funk out of your system. There are better days ahead -- I'm sure of it.
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