Monday, October 18, 2010

The day

Or rather, parts of it.  Today I have run errands for my mom who is post-op and doing well, thank you.  I have made lots of food (thank you for the help, you know who you are).  We have practiced violin and piano for an upcoming performance.  I have emailed on urgent matters.  I have signed papers, including, but not limited to, divorce papers and eligibility determination for Q.  I didn't cry on the papers.

Having to do two sets of paperwork for pretty much the two biggest things in my life, my kids and my marriage, both of which require or indicate an emphasis on the awfulest things about each of them, is pretty much enough already.  My marriage had good and bad, but I would never, not ever, not for anything, have ever said or thought that there was more bad than good.  And Q?  He's a bright-eyed, smiley little boy who is such a challenge to care for that he'll easily be eligible for some sort of personal care hours.  In order to exit a marriage, it seems one doesn't talk about the sweet, kind, funny, brilliant human being one made promises to and babies with.  In order to acquire personal care hours, one speaks only of the deficits, the gaps, the missed milestones, the myriad diagnoses, all the things he cannot do.


I'm afraid that I'm rather inarticulate about this.  It's just a very strange place to inhabit - living and having experienced one thing, while faced with piles of paperwork defying that life and experience.  That I have  two separate piles of paperwork with such similar (to me) themes feels a little outside what I can process at the moment.

It is what it is, and etc.

Tomorrow Q has preschool, and there are various appointments to make, school to be tackled, more practicing, laundry, and the rest of life to be lived.  I have more stuff to pull together for Q's eligibility process, and I will not cry on that paperwork, either.  Or maybe I will, because right now, for the next couple of minutes, I have completely had it.  I'm done.  I can't hold it all together, be sensible, keep tension between the good and the bad.  I'm taking the next two minutes to be an incomprehensible mess who isn't capable of a single thing, and may actually scream until the windows break.

Okay, I'm back.  Can't scream, it would wake the children.  But I did locate another Kleenex box.

Maybe later, when I get to the scheduling of the official nervous breakdown, I'll take up base jumping.  It has promise as an activity - has to be fairly adrenaline laden.  And I bet when one screams while hurtling through the air wearing a squirrel suit no one ever thinks anything of it.

Life lessons (because I need for there to be something useful in this, right now):  try not to handle certain paperwork in the dark, when everyone else is asleep.  When everything sucks, wait two minutes.  Something will shift.  And everything, every single thing, no matter how dark or horrible, can be figured out, worked through, hugged and kissed and made up over.  Every. single. thing.  I believe that to the bottoms of my feet and with every electron in me.  And you know what?  It's true.  It works very well with my children, but it's true for grown-ups too - you only have to believe that there's a solution to find one.

I sure hope I'm well tomorrow.  I really need to run and sweat, without worrying about passing out after from some stupid virus.  Aaaand, I'm out of Kleenex again.   Sigh.

Here's to a week packed full of appreciated blessings, strengthened connections, intact sanity, and rampant encouragement.  XO.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'm so sorry you have had to bear these things. May God strengthen your hands and your heart. Praying for you.

Noelle

TherExtras said...

You are anything but inarticulate.

Sending rampant encouragement.

Barbara

Leslie said...

I just found your blog through a search of the term "dura mater" as applied to the spinal cord. You have applied it to your life experience. I also am assuming that Q has issues regarding the spine...?
You are the spine of your family, and the hard, inflexible matter that surrounds your children protecting them from harm. Anyone who would abandon you at this time is heartless, an emotional vacuum. If a total stranger like me feels intense compassion for you and your children then you can take courage that the Universe hears your cries and will send you the needed strength.