I hate when I let life overtake me. Words need to be written, people! Write, DM! WTF?
Well, here's the thing: I am really fucking busy. In the best way possible.
And sometimes, when I let myself contemplate what to write about, I start thinking. And the grieving of my brother in law seems to creep in when I start to think. Sadness - even when appropriate - feels like a disease to me, like it seeps in and starts overtaking happy cells like the fucking cancer that took Jeff away. And than I end up blocking it. I don't think I am handling my brother in law's death appropriately, at all. Why would I write such a seemingly senseless sentence?
- When I start to feel sad, I hear the voices of several, nameless people in my head state: "Imagine how your sister feels." (Because, yes, people have said this to me, out loud, on the few occasions that I dared saying anything.) And than I get an overwhelming sense of guilt. (And my head knows how wrong that is - it's truly one of those *I'm smarter than this* things. Yet, clearly, I am not.) (I can also literally SEE TWM reaching for his keyboard - RIGHT NOW.)
- It doesn't seem to help - acknowledging the sadness and *feeling the emotions* the way people tell me it's necessary to. It doesn't bring him back. It hasn't eased the pain. And it's not getting easier for anyone, not really.....
- Crying gives me a headache. I'm not kidding - this is reason enough for me to avoid it at all costs. The few times I have let it in, it's all night event that leaves me with a swollen face, squinty eyes, and a migraine for the entire next day.
- I cannot face the thought of how hard this summer is going to be. After yearning for nice weather, cursing the polar vortex, staying inside for 6 months and gaining a good 20 pounds - the sunshine and spring weather stirs up every good memory I have of my time living with Huband and Wife One. My favorite days in that year were the days of gardening with my sister, smelling Jeff start the BBQ. Hearing Husband stroll onto the patio while Bex and I were weeding and planting, just to state "That's right - my bitches working like they're supposed to." We always laughed, it NEVER got old.
So I decline to go there most days. If I talk about it, it's almost robotic, like I can feel my heart harden, my voice change, and everything is completely devoid of emotion. At work, some people try to ask me about how I'm doing and say "you never talk about it...it's not good for you."
I don't want to talk about it. How are things? Do you really want to hear??? Shitty, really fucking shitty - my sister wakes up every day without her husband. I can't imagine the pain, and watching her suffer is pretty much the worst thing that has ever happened to my family? Ok?
So, let's move on and talk about the shit that makes me HAPPY: my kids, my husband, and my work. Let's NOT talk about my family. OK?
Emerson is about an inch and a half shorter than me. He likes to torture me by counting down the months until he gets his driver's permit. His voice cracks, and when it doesn't, it sounds nothing like the little boy I have heard talk my ear off for nearly 14 years.
Damn, I love that kid.
Riley went on his first trip out of town with a friend. He is on girlfriend number 6 or 7 - this year. He's in 5th grade. When I finally asked "haven't you *dated* - a term I am using EXTREMELY loosely - every girl in your class by now??"
"Oh no, Mom. Not even close."
As if that's his GOAL. Or a challenge I just threw out at him. Fucking apple seed.
Damn, I love that kid.
Matt went to Church with me on Easter Sunday - this stirred up topics that deserve actual blog posts of their own. He'd never been to Church before. WHAT??? How is that even possible!? Yep - some very interesting conversations .....
And I'm not really a church goer, or into organized religion, but I was invited by a coworker that I very much like. And there was this feeling inside me that I was supposed to accept the invitation. I'm not sure why, but I like to follow my instincts when I feel them that strong. It was just something I had to do. The reason will become clear in time, it usually does.
Or alternatively referred to as The New Awesomeness. In my head anyways. Literally, the only things I don't like about work right now are:
- The fact that I can't write about it in more detail. It really, really bugs me.
- It keeps me so busy, I rely on Ames to book our photography appointments, rarely have time to write, and barely keep up with things like my kids' homework, or even schedule for that, sadly honest matter.
BUT - yesterday, before I even left my family's Easter dinner, I had already started looking forward to the week. As in: I was getting excited for Monday. As in: Sunday-itis has disappeared. As in: I am clearly doing the job I was meant to do - who the fuck looks forward to Monday??
Work is so full of The Awesome, I should probably put The Awesome on my business cards, right next to my name. Sarah Doyle, Banker Extraordinaire/Owner of The Awesome. Ok, the shit is getting deep. I'm starting to annoy myself. But it feels really, really GOOD to be SO GOOD at something. (Ok, I am really, really good at a lot of things: writing, smartass comments, not killing my kids, sex...the list is long. What I meant was: it feels really, really to be good to be so good at something that pays me MONEY.)
Perhaps if I didn't use the word *fuck* so much, I'd actually be able to write more about my work.
But than I wouldn't be me. And my writing wouldn't be as honest as it is. Fair trade? I actually don't know.
It is what it is.