This blog post is about the people who wonder "when will my friend be over it?" Jeez, it's been X so many months/years and they are still so sad. And yes, I've heard that before. And trust me, my inner dialogue is often the cruelest when I find myself too miserable to get out of bed with no other reason than "I just can't do today." It's not necessarily "I miss Neil, I am sad." It's more of the "holy hell, I am just so tired." And sometimes that means "I'm just so tired of having to be strong alone." I do realize that I'm not alone. I have amazing friends and family who are always there for me, BUT being a single mother of two children alone can not be changed by the love of your friends or family. It is what it is.
I am a single widowed mother of two girls and sometimes that. is. exhausting.
The past couple of weeks have been extremely trying on me. Nothing majorly out of the normal day to day routine except school started, and oh, P broke her toe. And, I went away for a weekend for work. Ok, so maybe life got a little hectic there for a few weeks.
As for the toe, unfortunately, it's more than just tape the toe to the other toe kind of break, BUT it's nothing severe. Just an inconvenience for her since she has to wear a boot for 4 weeks because she has hypermobile ankles and is prone to rolling them.
And school starting is really just a change in our routine. It's a good change, though. But change is change and I've learned good and bad stress, is still just that. Stress. Unfortunately, our school doesn't let us know who the teachers for the upcoming year are until THE day before school begins. This makes it difficult for me to speak to the teachers about the girls and what they've been through. I'll come to that in a few minutes.
The training weekend for work was GREAT. Except for some reason it was a big trigger for my emotions. Maybe it was because the first Training that we went to as a gym was the summer that Neil died. It was such a fabulous weekend of learning new gymnastics techniques, seeing a bunch of friends that I've coached with over the past 20+ years and the Olympic Trials! Oh the memories! This year, it was smaller, no Olympic Trials, but still got to see a lot of friends and learn more and more about this fabulous sport I'm a part of. Not quite sure where the trigger is in there, but it was there and it hurt. I found myself in tears each day and didn't quite have the pep in my step that I'm known for. It was frustrating to say the least.
Ok, where am I going with this?
Well, when will I just be over it? Get over it already! It's been three years. Why do I find myself struggling to focus? Struggling to be joyful and full of spunk? Not really sure. But, the "holy hell, I'm so tired" was there and it wasn't leaving port as fast as I wanted it to.
I know I said P's broken toe is not that bad. But here's the kicker, physical pain for my children or myself is not just physical pain. Here's what I mean...
We were in the kitchen fooling around and I took P's bag of gummy worms from her and put them on top of the fridge. We laughed and she turned to grab the wooden stool and somehow in the next few seconds, the stool slipped and slammed onto the kitchen floor. I heard the smack of the wood on the floor a split second before I heard the scream come from her mouth. She crouched down and just by her reaction, I knew she was in more pain than just a squashed toenail. I scooped her up immediately and sat her on the counter to see her foot. In true kid form, she didn't want me near it, no ice, no NOTHING. Then she cried, "I just want to go to bed." I carried her to my bed and laid down next to her. (sister was at a sleep over) As we laid there, that darn pain went from her toe, traveled up her leg and entered her heart as she sobbed, "I want Daddy!" "Daddy would know what to do. I wish death didn't exist. Why did he have to die? Daddy would fix this cuz he was like a nurse." (uh, PE teacher? nurse? Same thing to a little girl, right?)
As she lay there, I thought, man, I wish I could share this with people so they see how it REALLY is to go through grief. I'm learning, it's not Hollywood. It doesn't get better in an hour and a half. So, in true social media form, I hid my phone and took a pic and a video.
Ok. Take a deep breath. I didn't post this for pity nor do I want you to comfort me.
This. is. my. life.
This is standard textbook pain reactions for my girls and even for me. Now usually, I do this with stride. I hold her. I agree with her. I say, "I don't know why he had to die. I know, P, it's ok." But my levels of strength had been depleting over the past few weeks and even though I consoled her, the tears started to flow from my eyes as well. We fell asleep and she moaned and groaned until close to one in the morning. I found some Benedryl and thought maybe it'd help her sleep. I gave her a little and it did the trick.
Now here's the kicker. You ready?
We woke up the next morning like normal. The sadness was gone. She was limping but she was happy go lucky P-nut. And that is how it goes. Like waves in the ocean, we had a tidal wave Friday night and the surf was back to normal by Saturday. Yay.
What next? Oh ya, school started. The girls are in 2nd and 5th and I realize that it's been 3 years since Neil's death, but I still feel like I should inform the teachers. Not for any other reason than, if something is said or one of them is upset, they are aware of it. This year, Marley got a male teacher. This is the first year that I am ok with that. She doesn't really have many men in her life besides my dad, a neighbor dad and her best friend's dad. And she doesn't see any of them too regularly, especially when my dad is out of town. Anyways, she got Mr. C and I was happy for her. I thought that this might be perfect. I didn't reach out to him before school started and then, time got away from me. Everything was going smoothly, so I didn't worry too much about it.
And then Back to School night arrived.
I sat through Mr. C's presentation and then thought I'd take the small amount of free time he had to introduce myself. I asked if he knew Marley's story and he said no. I told him her father passed away 3 years ago and he looked at me with sad eyes, apologized, then said, "that answers a few questions." He then went on to say that the poem she had been working on for the past week surprised him a bit. He pointed to the wall where it was hung and this is what I saw...
Again, not looking for any comfort. Just giving you a window into my world.
She had interviewed me earlier in the week. I did NOT know she was writing her poem and answered her truthfully. Here's how the poem about me came out.
Had I known it was going on the classroom wall, I may have answered "spiders" for my fear. Because, I do fear the little bastards. And I'm not afraid to die, I'm afraid of watching someone I love die, again.
Which brings me to my current inner monologue. "I can get through this. I have been through so much more. I have seen my two best friends take their last breaths. I can do this."
And with that inner monologue and a week long trip to Oregon to go salmon fishing, crabbing and a chance to recharge, I am back home with a load of good energy.
As Brooke used to say, "It is what it is." Yes, Brookie, it is, but sometimes it's really really sucky. I'm still learning that you gotta feel the pain and let the waves pass and not be so hard on yourself to hurry up and get over it.
Sometimes, it helps if you run away to Oregon to recharge, and sometimes you get a babysitter and go to a bar with a bunch of friends, which also helps it feel less sucky.
