Far from Home and Lonely

I'm not yet sure I've fully reached the conclusion of this pity party, but I'm finally starting to see the edges of it.  I've not handled the past couple weeks so well.

This new job is big.  I knew it was a stretch for me when I took it.  But this is so much bigger than I could have imagined.  Somedays I manage it.  I'm actually quite good at parts of the job.  But I am tired in my bones.  I'm tired in ways I wasn't sure I could be tired.  And then there are the days that I fall short...

I'm a mom of two kids.  How on earth could a job tire me more than life as a mom?  I mean there are demanding jobs and then there is motherhood.  I look at how tired I've been and I really wonder where I got off track.  Why am I so down?  I've come through so much in the past few years.  How could a job be getting to me like this?

Today I caught myself thinking about people at work.  I have tentatively begun making work friends, but it is Saturday and these are not people I see on the weekend.  I began to obsess about getting back online.  To see who was there and if I needed to take care of anything.  To have a conversation with someone.

As the day went on I felt worse and worse.  I couldn't shake this awful loneliness that seemed to have settled into my bones.  Bean even turned to me at one point and started talking about how much she misses her neighbors and cousins.  My chest constricted and for the first time in a very long time I had to remind myself that I needed to be strong for my kids.  I need them to know that it is okay to miss your friends and family, but this is our home now and everything is okay.

When I am completely and totally wreaked inside?  Should I show them how rocked I am by all this? Should I let them see?

And then it hit me.  I still haven't made friends here yet.  Not the kind of friends that I'm used to having.  I have worked a lot.  I have been the strong provider and the professional butterfly.  I'm learning to network and meet people with purpose.

But I no longer run into people at the grocery store and talk for 5 minutes catching up on their past week.  I don't have a church community to keep track of.  I don't go to school events where I get to meet my kid's friend's parents.  I don't recognize people has I walk down the street.

I'm an isolated person in an isolated corner of the country.  And I'm not making it any better by working so much.  When was the last time that I went out and met someone new?  For reasons other than professional networking?  My best guess - 4 months.  Definitely before I let work take over my nights in addition to my days.

Time has arrived to start reworking my of hours.  I need to get a life.

A Shock to the System

A friend had a heart attack. I learned about it from my husband. In this day in age, I respect her considerable ability to keep the news off Facebook. I monitor the stream of overshare and contribute not infrequently myself. It would be incredibly hard to not post the stream of conscious did-not-see-this-coming status update from the hospital bed before even beginning to appreciate what was happening.

Last night, almost two months after The Event, the news went public. Attempting to process all that has happened, she started writing a blog. It was the first time a number of people had heard the news. I read the shock in their posts. I imagined what it would be like to read that on Facebook for the first time, not knowing. Shock is a very appropriate reaction.

Tonight I read her blog. From beginning to now. I entered her story. The words formed a voice and I was pulled in. For a few brief moments, I was recovering from a massive heart attack. I was reconsidering my life and waiting. What does this mean? How has everything changed? I was living in a body which was no longer willing to keep up with my spirit. My spirit was looking at what it had wrought and sobbing.

On one hand, I am alive. That needs to be enough. In this time and space it has to be enough. I have to embrace life and love it with all I have. The intensity with which I've lived has taken a toll. But now, that intensity has to be turned around. Can you take care with intense tenderness? Can I relax passionately?

Mourning what I've lost, I emerge from the last post. I look into my husband's eyes as the tears fall freely now. I choke out one statement.

"I don't want it to happen to me."

On one hand this shouldn't be about me. My friend is going through something I wouldn't wish on anyone. Her life is hard enough without me sucking energy from the room. Earlier this week I read an editorial which suggested that the person experiencing a tragedy is the only one with allowance to complain freely. I am not that person.

In every word I read, the picture of a person in love with life is painted. To live a life like that, you give until it hurts. I know how that works. Somedays there is nothing left. Against any odds, you succeed. Failure is a stepping stone and you rise to every challenge it offers. But how do you rise to a challenge brought on by your own tenacity?

This is not my story. She is not me. But, in reading the beginning of her current story, I wonder what lesson the world wants me to learn right now. Do I go to the gym tomorrow morning? Do I leave off that 4th coffee in the late afternoon? Do I reconsider my workload? Do I get down on the floor and play with my kids for a little more often?

With every step, we redefine our lives. Choose your fate. What is my first step on a path that is not mine? First I remind myself - you are NOT her. Second, I send up a prayer and a wish that she makes peace with her situation and heals her heart. Thirdly, I take what she has offered me. A reminder to tuck in my tank. Be thankful for each and every day.  I can't know that it won't happen to me.

I departed the text.

One night I was reading Berkeley Breathed's Goodnight Opus.  Actually it might have been my husband reading.  I don't actually remember who it was.  But I know it was bedtime and we were putting our baby to bed.  She was old enough to sit up and listen to us read to her, but there wasn't a stream of questions pouring out yet.

As we sat there, the story filled the air.  It began to niggle at a part of me I'd been working to ignore.  After a year in the suburbs, life had settled into a young family routine.

Get up.  Get Dressed.  Get out of the house before the baby is up.  Drive to work in traffic.  Work.  Schedule a few kid appointments.  Work.  Eat lunch.  Putz around on the Internet.  Work.  Drive home in traffic.  Pick up the baby from day care.  Set her up with toys in the living room.  Make dinner.  Greet husband.  Eat dinner.  Bath.  Read a bedtime story.  Put the baby to bed.  Swap loads of laundry.  Fold clothes.  Plan dinner for the next night.  Pack lunches.  Go to bed.

Repeat.

"... the same one you've read me two hundred nine times."

Repeat.

"Grandma read, the two hundred tenth time."

Repeat.

"When your sight surpasses what's plainly in view, pull your head from the clouds, keep the ground to your shoes. [...] It's improper that folks get so carried away."

These were full days.  There was joy, but there was a monotonous repetition.  I could feel the edges getting tattered.  I was tired.  In my bones and my soul.  I could feel the strain of having a full and beautiful life.  My world had lined up.  I had no complaints.  But I was so tired.

And Opus was on a beautiful adventure.  A Tooth Fairy selling an Elvis Molar.  Fishing for the moon in Blue Mist Lagoon.  Cows in the Milky Way.  

Upon returning home Opus says "I sure like to think that one day or the next she'll get carried away and depart from the text."

My heart broke just a little.  With each day, the rut I was digging was getting deeper.  If I was tired now, it was not going to get better.  Soon our daughter would have potty training and school and field trips.  My job responsibilities would grow.  Traffic just doesn't get any better.

Time passed.  Tattered edges turned to fringe.  We had a second baby.  The fringe was gone.  In its place I found holes.  The kind where the material is so threadbare that attempt to mend it just make the hole bigger.

I started writing this blog.  Maybe my writing would be so awesome I would become a rich blogger and talk to suburbanites around the world about how they too could break the mold.  How the text they followed was under their control.

Hehee.

More likely, I would write and have something to look back on.  I would be able to look back and see that the struggles were real and different and I was growing and changing over the years.  It wasn't as monotonous as it seemed.  And in telling my story I would find the joy in each day.  I would seek out the joy.

But something completely different happened.  I didn't write about it.  I didn't capture it.  I simply lived it.  One day at a time.

In January, an email from a recruiter showed up in my Inbox.  It was obviously a form letter, but I answered.  When a bright red door appears in front of you, one you hadn't installed yourself, it is a good idea to check it out a little further.

In February, I interviewed with a big company for a job that came with a catch.  The job was 2800 miles from where I'd lived every day of my life since I was born.  I interviewed for an interesting job.   They saw more than I realized I was offering.

In March, they offered me the job.  But it wasn't just a job.  As I read and re-read the details, I was being offered a new beginning.  We could try something completely new.  An adventure if we were brave enough to take the leap.

"After two hundred ten times, I departed the text."

Sandy's Gift

I haven't been at work for 4 days.  Torrential rains.  Flooding.  Falling trees.  Power outages.  Hurricane Sandy walloped the East coast.

Thankfully I watched most of it on TV from the warm comfort of my living room.  I can't say I've ever been so grateful to have a storm rage around me and leave me nothing more than a little wet.

With Ray taking over the menu prep, my load has lightened.  Versus feeling a weight grow day after day on my shoulders, I started making progress.  The road was long, but I felt I could walk it again.  That hopefulness was something I hadn't felt in a long time.  What a beautiful feeling!

As Sandy closed down the East Coast for the past two days, I relaxed.  Work allowed employees to take off time to made up over the next few months - no precious leave needed.  A windfall of time fed the hopefulness and the result was gloriously relaxing.

For the first time in months, I had unplanned time.  Time to use however I saw fit.  Time to gain a foothold in the chaos.  All the things I could plan to do...

The first of which was to sleep in Monday morning.  I slept.  And slept.  And slept.  Until 8:30 am!!!  Many might think this a insignificant feat.  But those people are not the parents of toddler morning birds.  I was so happy to sleep.

Upon waking Monday morning, I considered listing all the things I wanted to get done.  I could build a nice long list and check things off one by one.  It would be so satisfying.  But that isn't what I did.  I didn't plan at all.  I just lived in my space.  As a task popped up, I worked on it.  Or I didn't.  I dedicated myself to no task taking more than an hour.  ROWE - Results Only Work Environment.  I could have to go back to my real job at any moment.  All that mattered was the state I left behind.  Start nothing that can't be completed.

My first urge was to prepare for the hurricane.  A little shopping.  Extra water in the fridge.  Candles out.  Matches located.  Laundry dried.  Portable electronics charged.  Bigger electronics shutdown.  Children bathed.  Sweaters donned.

Feeling as in control of my fate as I could in the middle of a hurricane I began to search my house for the other items which were bothering me.

Boxes of recently acquired hand-me-downs - organized into sortable stacks.
My girls' puzzles and board games - organized onto a repurposed shleving unit in the closet.
Piles of thoroughly loved bath toys - sorted and separated into keep and toss.
Stack of dropped items inside the kitchen door - escorted to their respective homes.
Mountain of craft supplies supporting past projects - organized back into the craft boxes.

Monday became Tuesday and I kept gliding through the house.  Puttering.  Finding an object out of place, returning it to its home.  We moved some furniture.  Divested of more unsold items from our yard sale.  Planned to ridding our house of more things kept past their usefulness.

Tomorrow I return to work.  I can't say that I'm done, but I don't ever really want to be done.  I just want to feel at peace in my own space.  For the first time in quite a long time, I think I've achieved that.  Now I just have to work on keeping the peace.  :)

Today's Fortune.

Your luck has been complete changed today.

I'm not sure if this is a good or bad fortune.  Does it just apply to today?  Was my luck good or bad before?  Maybe I should wear a crash helmet until I can be sure...

Parenting is hard.

Yesterday Mommy put herself in timeout.  This is not the first time and I'm willing to bet it will not be the last time I spend 3 minutes in timeout.  Shortly before removing myself from the situation, I heard this shrill yelling, almost threatening, voice in my daughters room.  There was a little 3 year old girl on the floor rolling around with her underwear.  She was experiencing dressing amnesia.  It is a sickness often seen in young children once dressing themselves has stopped being a novelty and turned into a routine expectation.  It is particularly acute when parents are distracted by younger siblings or running late for an appointment.

After observing the 3 year old in her natural habitat.  I continued looking for the source of the awful noise.  There was no one else is the room.  No one that is except me.  I realized, as I shrilly threatened "Put your clothes on NOW or you WILL sit in timeout for THREE minutes", that I had yet again lost it.  I was sounding ridiculous.  I was giving into the frustration of parenting a toddler.  She was winning this battle because I was standing there yelling.  And worst of all?  The grin on her face showed me that she knew it.  I left the room to go sit in my room for a timeout.

Moments like that make me wonder if I made the wrong choice in my life.  I don't always love being a parent.  There are many sides to me and more than a couple of them see this whole parenting gig as not worth the effort.  So many people talk about being in the moment and treasuring your kids.  I constantly hear moms talk about how blessed they are and what a joy it is to stay home with their kids all the time.  They don't want the time to end.  They home school to keep the good times rolling.   I wonder what I'm doing wrong.

There are also moms on the other side of the fence.  And THANKFULLY some of them share their frustration.  I need that more than the air I breath at times.  Hearing that it isn't all rainbows and sunshine.  During my 3 minute timeout I pray for strength to keep my temper and a little detachment to not take her rebellion quite so personally.  As I cool off, I notice that my little 3 year old has recovered from her bout of amnesia and is now fully dressed.  It's magical.  She wonders where Mommy went.  I determine my timeout is over.

I scoop her up and tell her I'm sorry for yelling.  I also slip in a notice of how well she dressed herself. She tells she forgives me and she loves me.  I hope she knows I love her too.

A Break from the Norm

Today is day 3 of my re-entry.  I'm over caffeinated, over tired and more than a little annoyed that time won't slow down and let me recover.  But more than that, I'm grateful for what came before.  The re-entry hurts, but to have never left would have been worse.

Six days ago, I boarded a plane to New Orleans.

By myself.

Without my children.

For completely selfish and personal reasons.

For the first time since I found out I was going to be a Mom, I took an extended break.  The Manic Mommies had organized their 5th annual Escape and I signed up.  Three days Two nights in New Orleans, sleeping in a posh hotel, eating meals requiring no planning on my part and experiencing life at my own pace.

Wow.

There were a few minutes where I didn't want to come back.  I missed my girls and my husband, but I also knew how re-entry would feel.  Leaving it all behind for just a few days makes the crush of everyday life feel almost debilitating.  But I'll adjust and I'll do it with a memory of how I'd like to feel more often.  A little less rushed and a little more present.  Experiencing this moment before worrying about the next.  Just a bit of added perspective to make the norm seem not so inevitable.

The things is...  I can slow down.  Life is fast and kids are demanding.  Then life is demanding and kids grow fast.  But it is up to me to put the brakes on from time to time and really relish the moments I'm living in.

My plane landed as my husband put my children to bed Sunday night.  I returned home to a cuddly husband, friends in my basement and a football game on TV.  For just a few more moments I enjoyed a slower pace and some quality time with people I love.   The break was good.

Wow.  I encountered this video on Defining Motherhood and just about started sobbing at work.  Some days are harder than others and I'm been attempting to ignore how hard mine have been feeling lately.

It's awesome to have a wonderful life.  It's amazing when everything you've worked hard for comes to fruition.  It's also terrifying.  I read a book a few weeks back where the character was taught to dream big and be sure your dreams last until the final days of your life.  I wonder if that is where I stumble right now.  So many of my dreams have come true that I'm running low on direction these days.

But returning to the video...  What would I go back and tell myself?

Your babies know you love them.
You will find the strength.
Trust yourself.
Trust your partner.
Ask for help when you need it.
This too shall pass. All too soon.

Super Anxious.

Just to put it out there...  Writing this blog is making me anxious.  Knowing I'm putting bits of myself out on the internet.  Eventually someone will see this page.  They will read what I've written.  They might judge me.  What will they think?

I'm working on letting all that go.  The POINT of blogging is to get readers, to be noticed, to put a little more out than you did the day before and just maybe get a little back in exchange.  At least that's what I think all this is about.  I'll stretch my comfort zone a little more each day.

And I'll end up somewhere.  I don't know where, but I do look forward to ending up there.  Let's see where this goes.