Although I ain't really been myself at all. . .

January 27, 2011



Yesterday I hit a wall.

After deluding myself into thinking that I was doing very well.

Organizing, planning, doing, being busy. . . .

I thought that I was handling things.

But yesterday I hit a wall.






Most of yesterday was spent in my bed, staring at the mirror above Stephen's dresser.

Just laying there.

Staring.

Mind taking me to dark places in my head.

Places I don't often go because I don't like them, and once there, it's hard for me to get back out.

Stephen was in and out of the house running errands.

Oil and filter change for the car.

Pictures for Friday.

New black pants for Jer, who hadn't had five minutes to even think of those kinds of things.

Picking up dry cleaning.

While I laid in my bed, thinking.

Staring.

Thinking.






Eventually I did get up.

I did some work.

Mer called, wanting to come over, feeling lost and alone.

And then I realized that everyone would be at home at dinner time and I'd better do something about it.

A dear friend had brought us a pot of homemade vegetable soup and a lovely loaf of multigrain bread, I had cooked some chicken breasts a couple of days ago, and along with some low fat Swiss cheese we had a nice, family, homecooked meal.

The kids were the kids, with their usual mealtime shenanigans, and it felt for a few moments like the world was normal again.






The impending storm, worse for the area where Jerry lives, meant that we had to meet with him yesterday.

We were supposed to go to him, but with the errands and the car, it was around 6.45 before Stephen got home.

We arranged to meet Jer in Oromocto.

He had things he wanted to give us for Friday.

We had things he needed for Friday.

It was the first time the kids had seen their Uncle, and it was a sight to see the three of them embrace him at the same time, surrounding him in a blanket of kid-to-Uncle-love so desperately needed right now.






Today will be spent trying to write something for tomorrow.

I don't trust myself to wing it.

I don't even know if I'll be able to get anything comprehensible out.

But I have to try.

For Kat.

For Jer.



Title Lyric: Hit the Wall by Sweatshop Union