So that was totally depressing.
If you think reading it was bad … well. It was no picnic having that dream, I’ll tell you that. My dad is on my mind lately, with an intensity I haven’t felt for a long time.
I’m trying to figure out what I’m doing on so many levels: as a wife, daughter, mother, writer, human being. It makes my head spin.
The hardest part is accepting that I have an ordinary life. I am not, in any way, exceptional. I am like everyone else, alternately suffering and rejoicing. There is a small, black part of my heart that rebels against this.
You ARE exceptional! You are destined for success! You should be Someone! Special!
Do we all have that voice? Do you?
Well, I wish mine would kindly shut the fuck up and let me enjoy sweeping Cheerios off my floor and drafting mediocre blog posts.
Ah, blogging. Thy name is ambivalence.
Do I keep blogging? Do I stop blogging? Do I ditch this “brand” (gag) and start a new, wholly anonymous blog? Do I password-protect this one and let certain people in so I can keep certain people out? Is it a journal? Is it my portfolio?
Do I care?
Blerg.
Mayberry Mom writes about being in limbo, and the urge to spring clean her life. I feel the same right now. I crave order, not these strange, in-between days of whine and roses.
My physical body hurts, this isn’t helping at all. My thoughts are crowded with aches and pains, and medications. My real work is slow-going, and while I keep writing here, some days I’m not sure why.
My children are growing up before my eyes, The Poo wielding her impressive vocabulary and Shaggy trying to walk before his muscles will cooperate. He hoots in angry frustration as he gets on his feet, only to have his baby-man legs buckle and give out underneath him.
He is getting ahead of himself. Just like his mama.
These are the hardest times for me, times of uncertainty. I do not like “playing it by ear.” I despise not having a plan. Not knowing what our life will look like even four weeks from now is making me, literally, crazy.
I’m hanging on by my psoriasis-pocked fingernails. The thing is, my condition makes those fingernails so weak that they just peel right off.
Last night I was looking through my sister’s Flickr photostream, and I came across this photo:
That’s me, my husband and my dad, in 2003.
Would you believe I am 90 percent bald in that photo? That is one hell of a wig, huh?
I felt terrible then, like the world was shattering around me. I was bald! Bald!
I would give anything for my life to look like this photo today. Anything.
{ 19 comments… read them below or add one }
I don’t know what to say to try and make you feel better – plus I’m pretty sure that nothing I could say would work anyway.
You’re having a hard time and you still have things to work through… you have to try and give yourself a break you know?
We are all destined for something special. We are all wondering what we’re doing sweeping cheerios off the floor so please don’t feel alone in that. I defy anyone to look at their life every day and think yes – this is absolutely everything I ever wanted.
Well maybe Beyonce.
But no – you are not alone and I for one have to say that I think you need to try and not beat yourself up about your feelings and calling them failings.
Keep writing it out here because apart from anything else – it will help to get things out of your head. I believe that
x much love
mrs nutty mummy’s last blog post..Cheeky Chops: The Return
Sometimes I wonder if we would be aware of the clock being turned back – or if we would think it was still the first time around. Sometimes I wonder if at times, the clock has been turned back for me . . . If, at some point, I said, “Oh, please, I’ll do anything for my son not the be killed in this accident” and a Power said, “Okay, I’ll give you this son, but take your other child.”
I don’t know, but I’d think twice about saying “Anything”.
The trick is to find the divine in the ordinary. Although, if you ever master this, please call me and tell me how it works! Because I have no friggin idea.
Sometimes when I feel like a big nothing, I think of that Raymond Carver poem, which basically states that your life has been special as long as you have been ‘beloved on earth.’ And that? You got wrapped up.
(((hugs)))
Domestic Extraordinaire’s last blog post..Still alive
You are a beautiful girl, whose dad is alive and well in spirit. I know that doesn’t replace him alive and well in the flesh.
I know.
flutter’s last blog post..Protected: The infection of loneliness (fiction) (email me for the password fluttercrafts at gmail dot com)
My husband suggested this to me once when I was wailing about how hard motherhood was and that I wasn’t “me” any more. Maybe part of your purpose in life is to bring into the world someone who is going to change it for the better. Maybe the Poo or Shaggy is going to be the one who finally finds the cure for cancer or some other horrible disease and your job is to take care of them until they are able to go out into the world on their own.
I don’t think you ever get over the loss of a parent no matter how long it has been. My dad died of lung cancer just two months ago and the wound is as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. I don’t expect it to change.
As for the writing, I don’t think you should stop. How many times have you heard an actor say they were just about to stop acting when they went on that one audition that changed their life/career and they land that Oscar winning role? Who knows, the next thing you write might win you a Pulitzer.
*hugs* I’m sure there’s nothing I can say to make anything better; just know I’m thinking about you!
sam {temptingmama}’s last blog post..[UPDATED!] The Tale of a Loving Marriage and Shopping. Alternative Title: Who the Hell am I Kidding?
I wish I had some astounding words of wisdom for you that would make everything better…but I don’t. I think we all go through these times of questioning who we are and why and all of that. You’ll figure it out, I’m sure of it.
And no, don’t stop blogging.
((hugs))
I have been having many of the same thoughts. Feeling like I was meant for something more than screaming children at my ankles, even though this was the life I hungered for, more than anything else, for most of my life. Careful what you wish for, right? I also lost my father somewhat recently, right before I got pregnant with the twins and have been thinking about him a lot lately as well.
I’m so sorry you are having such a hard time right now. (((hugs)))
Melissa’s last blog post..Jack Sprat’s Wife
I see three beautiful, vibrant people there. I love that photo.
Long ago, I shut down my “brand” and online journal because of how people were responding to me and the fear I felt.
If you ever feel like corresponding about that, just pop over and say hello.
I’m not sure if I’m safer now in this new form. Maybe. Maybe it’s just my current real-life circumstances that help me feel less afraid.
However, I suffered those years when I was not writing and sharing online. Journaling privately is good for some things. Sharing aloud gives us something else.
cathy’s last blog post..oats
I so get this. Hang in there—these times of uncertainty don’t last forever. And this weather? In the Midwest. Not helping.
I wish I could come up with the right words, but I can’t. I hope it helps to know I’m thinking of you.
I have a picture sitting on a side table in my living room. It was taken right after my first chemo treatment. I had cut my hair short in anticipation of the baldness to come. The next chapter of my life promised to be a difficult one but in some ways it was the easiest time I had ever known. I had chemo every two weeks. It was grueling and sickening and occasionally felt completely pointless. I thought to myself, “I’m not special or interesting or destined for success so why bother?” All of that didn’t matter much because I had a schedule to keep. Things were planned out and in some ways that plan (along with God) carried me through when I had used up all my faith for the day. I could keep going because I had days to cross off my calendar and a graduation date for my school of hard knocks (or so I thought). I look at that picture of myself hugging my sister and looking so happy I can’t believe that was me. Almost six years later I have an amazing husband, wonderful children and everything I need but I spend 90% of my time worrying. Life is easier when you have a playbook in hand. Hang in there and try to remember that you are special and interesting and destined for success. How do I know? You’re a mom to two great kids and if they are the only success you ever see you will have conquered the world.
That doesn’t mean you need to stop feeling and writing what you feel though. I say “hang in there” because I support you, but I am thankful to hear your voice and know I’m not the only one.
Katherine’s last blog post..Good Morning to Me
I hear that voice all the time. All the time.
I sooo wish you were going to BlogHer – I’d really like to buy you a drink or three…
Don Mills Diva’s last blog post..Sunshine on a cloudy day
Gah. Effing perspective, right?
Your dad’s smile in that picture is just gorgeous.
mayberry’s last blog post..My kind of spring cleaning
Not sure what to say honey, except we all love you and want to make the journey with you, if that’s possible. Whatever form it takes.
@Aimee, thank you. It means the world that you are still here.
xoxoxo
Oh dear, here I am again with some words from my heart.
Ms C, I agree that you have some issues with grief and I suppose they could be described as having trouble moving through grief but I don’t think that is the issue. Sit down and remember that I do keep reading your blog because I do like you.
Ms Chicken, I think you hide behind your grief. When your life gets hard, when you find yourself behind the eight ball on deadlines or with too many days left in the month after the paycheck has been spent – you come back to your dad’s death, your sadness, how much you miss him.
I don’t have a book that tells me what I am supposed to believe happens when people depart this life but my own belief (mainly because it makes me feel good about my mom who died almost 15 years ago) is that the love of those who loved us remains within us and that love is reflected in you by the way you live your life.
My guess your dad would not want you to be sad because he is gone. He probably would like you to take the best of the lessons he taught you (work ethic, kindness, sense of humor, family values, traditions, unspoken words, caring, self worth, whatever) remember where they came from and use them as a model for your life. In doing that you pass them on to your kids. I believe this is how you honor the lives of the loved ones who have died in your life. Do I miss my mom? Yep. But I have taught my daughter, who didn’t get to know her grandma long enough, how to knit, the silly songs I used to sing, how to love others, how to forgive, how to stand up for herself and take pride in who she is, how to be appropriate in a fancy place, to take responsibility for her actions, and a bunch more things that I can not think of right now. I have also shared with her who taught me things. My mom.
Oh, remember I am not trying to be mean and I am not a resident of the city where you live. I am just a woman with an absolutely remarkable daughter who is close to your age. She too has a young family and the struggles that young families face and she is doing okay.
Ms Chicken, so are you and I think your dad would think so too.
Question: Why were you 70% bald?
I haven’t been by in a while so am catching up. Just been too busy for blogs. This is the first picture I have seen of your father and he looks every bit like someone you would miss. His spirit seems to emanate from this shot. And your little boy? Spitting image. What a gift, a sometimes painful reminder, but a gift.
And yeah, that’s a damned fine wig.