Whelmed?

"I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?"  ~ Bianca Stratford - 10 Things I Hate About You

It's a good question, isn't it?

I had about a week and a half off over Christmas and it was wonderful.  We didn't make any plans or take any trips, it was so nice just to relax and home, together and really to just BE.

I don't remember a time in my life where I've felt so full, so much and yet not be able to write freely, without consequence as I do now.  The choices and the changes I'm going through now are not mine so I can't openly share all of them here and it's really hard for me...yet I know it's just not my story to tell. 

Christmas was unusual, perplexing and almost inexplicable (I had a little fun on Google finding these words) for me this year.  I wasn't into the spirit, the spending, the tradition or magic of it all this year.   Our tree was down and all evidence of Christmas removed by the Monday after.  Not at all like me!  We did our normal dinner/snacks but, there wasn't a special "really wanted" gift for Jacob this year and it seemed to be a 'going through the motions' type thing for me.  I think that contributed to the lack of lacking this year.

Is it just us or did last year end with this huge pile of upheaval?  For us, it was another new job and even less money for Jeremy (better benefits and advancement though), my sister being diagnosed with stage IV Adenocarcinoma (soft tissue cancer), my responsibilities at work shifting and...a...long term house guest - which, I'm not going to lie, it's extremely hard/heart wrenching for me to watch this one play out.  And then our every day normal on top of all that. Y'all, this girl is overwhelmed!

And then I look back at last year, And I was just as overwhelmed.  I had lost my mom, I was terribly, excruciatingly angry with her, Jeremy left his job, I was thinking about leaving my job and a huge spot of my damned hair fell out!

Oh, I almost forgot, my corporate credit card was compromised too!

When does it stop?  When does it get easier?  When does the success outweigh the challenges?  When do I get to be just whelmed?

It's complicated

There are plenty of things I don't understand.   Relationships being the trickiest of all.

My mom volunteered a little of her time in a domestic violence shelter back home.  I met a few of the women staying there, women with blackened eyes, bloodied lips and swollen cheeks from their significant others.  I was always so proud of the women who got out, who ran with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and their kids. I remember being angry with the women that went back to those men.  Choosing that life, knowing they may not ever be strong enough to leave again.  Some of these women were in and out of the shelter numerous times - enough to where I knew them personally.  Sadly, I remember one woman we never saw again.  Her husband had brutally murdered her after he'd finally convinced her to come back to him. I'll never understand. 

I've found that no relationship is ever easy, parents, children, siblings, in-laws - any of it or all of it = not easy.  In fact, down right, plain old complicated. 

I had hoped after my mom passed away, some of my relationships would uncomplicate themselves but, to no avail.  In fact, some got worse. People always think they have the answer to every one else's problems.  They especially think mothers and daughters automatically bake cookies together, shop together and enjoy mother daughter tea parties.  There are those of us that know better.    You don't need to fix us.   You don't need to say the right thing or be uncomfortable  with us.  Most of us are quite comfortable with who we are or even who we aren't.   Please, just be yourself.   It's not complicated. 

I try not to think too much, of myself or of others.  I try not to have an opinion of anyone but myself.  I try not to be envious or to covet.  I try to mind my own business and keep my nose on my own page.  I find it a bit less complicated this way. Less to discuss, less to explain. It's hard though, to try to be better when people around you bring their judgements to your door.  When others try to force their opinions on you, to make you agree with them.  Why do we all have to agree?  Why can't it just be complicated and we leave it at that?

Just a song in my head

"It's so funny how we don't talk anymore
It's so funny why we don't talk anymore
But I ain't losing sleep and I ain't counting sheep
It's so funny how we don't talk anymore"

-Cliff Richard

It's a song from like 1979 and it's stuck in my head this afternoon. 

I was thinking earlier, next Spring, Jeremy and I will have been together 15 years.  When he was in the restaurant, once in a while, one of the servers would talk to me about him, something he'd said or done and as she was talking, I'd think to myself - Yeah, I do know.  He's MY husband.  We talk, there is no way you know him better than I do.

I think back to my mom often, and someone had once told her how I was manipulative and spoiled (which I was in my teens and 20's) I was.  I remember my mom's response to her - She's my daughter, I know full well what she can be. 

When I think about Jacob, I think about my relationship with my own mom.   I think about the things I shared with her, the things I kept to myself, and...uh...the things she heard about second and maybe even third hand.

I think about how she knew me.  The things she knew about me and I realize that after a point, and to a point, she and I were quite close.  After a certain age, I didn't have anything to hide.  It didn't matter anymore.  I knew who I was, she knew who I was, we both knew what made me who I was.  We also knew there was no going back.

In a way, I'm thankful that my mom never tried to hold onto my childhood. Never tried to take care of me or keep me under her wings.  I'm thankful she taught me not to need her, that she wouldn't save me or that I had to depend on her.  In some ways, I'm glad to know I couldn't rely on her.  I did it. I grew up.  

When she died, I didn't need her.  I hadn't needed her for some time.  When I say I didn't need her, I don't mean I didn't love or want her. I mean I didn't need her.  That time had come and gone. 

As parents, it's our job to grow our kids to not need us.  To not depend on us, to not need our help.  I think so anyway.  

I'll remember things for Jacob - his favorite foods, a few funny stories but I hope I remember to care for and love him for the person he is, not the person someone else sees or as the person he once was but for the man who grew into, the husband and father he'll hopefully become one day.   I'll be sure to make him a box of macaroni one day but, only when he asks me to, and not force him to relive my memories of him. 

I know my son. I know him as his mother.  I don't know him as a friend or as a student. I don't know him as his father does.  I don't know him as a teammate. I will never know him as a husband, as a father to his own children.  I will certainly never know him better than his wife. It's up to him to build that and me to stay out of his way when the time comes. 

Like any mom, I hope my son will always love me but, I'm not going to fight for it.  Or make an asshole of myself chasing after him, begging for his attention.  I hope I do it better than my parents so he knows I love him.  I hope I never get to a point where he doesn't want to speak to me or feels he has to cut me out. I want him to know he's loved and not feel suffocated by his overbearing parents.  I hope I teach him not to need me.  To know he'll be fine without me.  I think that's one of the best things I can give him.

Why?

Why are people such jerks?

Why are people so selfish?

Why are people offended by such little things?

Why when people don't know what to say or how to relate they back so far up they end up doing nothing?

Why do people send really late birthday cards?

Why do some not send any cards at all?

Why do people make themselves the center of attention?

Why do people act as if another person's hardships are irrelevant?

Why doesn't anyone have compassion?

Why must people share photos of torture and abuse?

Why don't kids play outside anymore?

Why do parents hover?

Why does a single mom not educate her child about the responsibility of diabetes?

Why does a child even have diabetes?

Why do parents ignore their children?

Why do other parents spoil theirs?

Why did my dad have to be sick?

Why couldn't I have a better relationship with my mom?

Why did my parents die when I was so young?

Why was my sister killed in an accident?

Why am I still here?

Why does my sister have cancer?

Why does this woman live to 105?

Why are some outspoken?

Why are some terribly shy?

Why doesn't anyone ask how I am?

Why do I care?

Why do some women have 10 children and 11 different dads and I can't carry one?

Why don't I trust people?

Why do I think I have to be strong?

Why are some people so weak?

Why does all this matter?

...Marriage

A friend asked me once "if something happened to Jeremy, would you get married again?"

Without hesitation, my answer was "No.  I may live with someone but, I'll never get married again."

She was stunned.  "You don't like being married?  Living with someone is the same thing as being married."

Uh-huh.  Sure.  You can believe that.  I know differently. 

Marriage is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.  I have buried both of my parents, my sister, my dad was sick - y'all my life was a bitch!   Still is.  And yes, marriage is the hardest thing I have ever done!

I didn't know 13 years ago what it meant when I stood on that white sandy beach and promised that guy "for better, for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do we part".  I only knew we were married.  I had no idea exactly what that meant. I knew I promised him forever and I promised God.  I'm not one to give up on a promise...

Then came all the bumps.  The house that had more problems than we had money, the miscarriages - so many that I'd eventually lose count, an adoption, losing my mother and every single little thing (and big thing) in between.  We fought.  We fought a lot.  Oh, and more than a lot.  And then we fought some more.  I blamed me, I blamed him, he blamed him and I'm sure he blamed me.  We yelled, we cried.  It was hard.  And we fought even more.

We got help.  We went to a counselor together. I went to one alone.  He went to one alone. I saw another one alone. It was hard. 

We had a lot of fun together.  As a couple and as a family.  We took a few trips, made a lot of memories.  Enjoyed our time together.  That part wasn't so hard.

At the end of the day, my husband is my best friend.  He knows all of my secrets, all of my goals and all of my dreams.  He knows them because he shares in them.  They're his too.  We built them together.  He wants what I want.  I want what he wants.  All of the talking, all of the fighting, all of the gains, all of the fighting and every single one of the losses got us here.  Us.  Together. 

We don't often do things apart.  We have great friends, friends we may not see often, yet when we do, it's like we never left them.  We don't have people in our relationship that aren't healthy for our marriage. We don't go out drinking in bars without the other.  It's not a trust thing, it's a respect thing.  Respect for each other, our family and mostly respect for our marriage.  This is our investment.  We nurture it, we honor it, we protect it.  We don't allow anything in that could destroy it.

Trust.  Trust is big.  I trust him. I trust him with my life.  I trust him with my child. I believe him and I believe in him.  

I love my husband - completely.  I love his smile, his heart, and all of his goofy quirks (like who the hell takes the middle bun out of a Big Mac and eats it?  By itself?).  I couldn't imagine a moment of this life without him.   I love being married. I love being married to him.

I hope he enjoys being married to me.

I wouldn't invest in someone this way again.  Not only because it's hard, I've never taken the easy road in anything, ever but, because I don't believe there is anyone else that is worth the time, the fight, the energy, to make it work.  Not like this.

Thanks Jeremy.  Thank you for loving me at my best and at my worst.  Thanks for picking me up, and sometimes letting me down. Thanks for holding my hand, for holding me back and for letting me soar.  Thank you for all of the ups, downs, lefts and rights, all of the forwards and even some of the backwards. At the end of every single day, I'm still glad it was you!

Being #6

I was always content to be #6.  "The Baby".  When I was little, I loved tagging along with my older sisters and my brother, never realizing maybe they didn't - or their significant others didn't - want me along. Or thought I was a brat.  I didn't try to be.  You see, my siblings were my everything, I wanted to keep them just for me.

As I got older, they married and started their own families, nephews and nieces came along and I was so excited when each one of them were born.  They're such amazing kids and I am terrifically proud of each one  of them.  So much so that when my siblings call me by their daughters names (and each one of them does this) I am NEVER offended and never hurt for I know their children are very special to them. In fact, I'm almost honored.

As I'm getting older, they are too.  They have a decade up on me - some have close to two decades!  With the age difference, it's becoming a reality that...I... I will be the last one left.  Alone.   The only one of us to bury my parents as well as my 5 siblings.  I'm the one who will be left behind, again.  One day, it'll just be me. No one to remember the rest with.  

Sometimes I'm sad that I'll be alone.  Sometimes I'm even a little angry.  It's not  fair but, then again, what is fair?  Life isn't fair.   Car accidents aren't fair.  Multiple Sclerosis is not fair.  Dementia is not fair.  Cancer is not fair.  Life.  The thing about life is that it goes on. Life goes on.  Every. Single. Time.  It does not stop and there are no breaks. Not for #1.  Not for #6.  Not for any in between.

2015: The Year We Fixed...The Backyard

We moved into this house in December of 2001.  We had a 4 foot, white picket fence surrounding our entire yard.  The fence was in rough shape after that first winter and was always in our list to replace but, then came the roof, a new furnace, infertility, adoption, a kid, a dog and every single other thing in between

Last summer, 2014, what 12 years later? We finally replied that fence!

Wow!

Then there was the issue of that patio.  We've all tripped on it.  I stepped in the same hole twice and about snapped my ankle. And if you have ever ventured into our backyard, you have heard one of us say, "Watch your step!"

So, we had it dug out...

I came home today, turned to look, and there is, my beautiful, private backyard!