Me
Each day is a struggle. Each and every day. I find myself a mix of emotions and – very often – conflicting requirements. I’ll think I’ll have put my finger on something only to find that my hand has slipped, my fingerprint smudged, my placement incorrect.
There is little about my time that is making sense right now. I am drifting, the only anchor I have my Lemonheads and my faithful companion, anger. I always have this sense of anger just below my surface. I shouted at my daughter this morning – they were fractious, arguing over their two favorite toys. She is not one to let things go (this smells of familiarity to me) and would not let her brother forget her rage at not having the toy of her choice. Her screaming was relentless and no matter how many times I re-directed her to another toy or told her that he has them both, she has to share, she wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop pursuing her brother to attempt to physically wrench a toy from him. I turned to her and shouted. She cried big, huge, shocked sobs at this. I cried, too.
And all of my thoughts are covered with waves of the non sequitur. How can I have a life without Alastair, the man who wired all the lights in the house, the lights which our son takes delight in on a daily basis? Such a stupid thought, but an example of those I have on a regular basis. Wired lights…big fucking deal. And yet it’s one of many things that punch me in the heart, along with bigger things: How can we stay together? How can I get past some things? Change is in the air but is it too late for breathing?
Some big things have happened this week, things that hurt my heart just when I thought my heart had already punched its time sheet out and gone home for the night. Turns out my heart was just on a coffee break. And I don’t know how to proceed sometimes. I want to apologize, I want to be apologized to, I want to rage, I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to be held, I want to escape, I want to stay, I want to hurt, I want to heal, I want…I want all of that, sometimes within seconds of each other.
I continue to lose weight. I am now, I am told, “a bag of bones”. I am not interested in food, but when I am my body goes for specific things – walnuts. Salmon. Spinach. Eggs, fucking lots of eggs. I focus on trying to eat a bagel every day since going to my Couch Man a week ago and having a bagel on the way there, the best fucking bagel in the history of bageldom, which was the first meal I’d had in days. I often succeed in eating my stupid bagel. And I watch my body in the mirror and not know who it is I see and I watch my heart and not know what it is I feel and I watch my life and not know what it is that’s going to happen, only that everything hurts but everything can’t hurt forever because like anger that pours out of you, there’s a bottom to it somewhere, if only you just wait it out to see.
You’re probably going to get sick of these posts, but the problem is I have fucking shedloads of confusion, anger, and hurt and absolutely no where to put it…
I have the following, a poem that a good friend sent me.
To Our Caring Friends:
Don’t tell me that you understand,
Don’t tell me that you know,
Don’t tell me how I will survive,
How I will surely grow.
Don’t tell me this is just a test,
That I am truly blessed,
That I am chosen for this task,
Apart from all the rest.
Don’t come at me with answers
That can only come from me,
Don’t tell me that my grief will pass
That I will soon be free.
Don’t stand in pious judgement
Of the bonds I must untie,
Don’t tell me how to suffer,
And don’t tell me how to cry.
My life is filled with selfishness,
My pain is all I see,
But I need you, I need your love,
Unconditionally.
Accept me in my ups and downs,
I need someone to share,
Just hold my hand and let me cry,
And say, “My friend, I care.”-Anonymous
-S.
I care
Abs xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I care, as well.
Holding and caring from across the pond with great intensity and caring.
I care.
Caring very much so caring.
{{{HUGS}}} i care, friend
You do have somewhere to put it: here. I care, and so do so many others.
The weight thing. I get it, I’ve been here, and I know what it’s like to look in the mirror and see someone that thin. You will make it through. I swear it.
“You’re probably going to get sick of these posts, but the problem is I have fucking shedloads of confusion, anger, and hurt and absolutely no where to put it…”
No better place than here. It’s really a great spot to unload. Just putting it all in words and writing them down helps a lot.
Never sick of you, sweets.
I can relate to the yelling at your kid, but please try not to beat yourself up over that. They are entering a VERY difficult age, and you are only human. Even under the best of circumstances, they will occasionally push you to the limit of your patience. From my own experience, the only thing that Bridget responds to sometimes is my raised voice. The. Only. Thing. It doesn’t make me feel good to do but it works. Yelling does not make you a bad parent and it doesn’t shake her trust in you. It just shocked her. Which was what was needed in the moment.
Love to you.
Caring here, too.
lily
You know Solomon cares and hopes, wishes, and prays for your heart to be healed.
“She cried big, huge, shocked sobs…” That’s not necessarily bad. While screaming at her may not be the method of choice, children need to be disciplined in a way that hurts their heart sometimes (as well as their butt) :). That hurt (if done correctly) can show them how much their actions are hurting others. Sometimes redirecting is good, but redirecting doesn’t address the heart, it only addresses the actions and/or situation. And the heart is the thing that needs to be addressed the most.
I think God made kids forget everything before they’re 3 or 4, so they don’t remember all the discipline and hard lessons they have to learn. : )
You make me want to hug you. And make you a breakfast of spaghetti and syrup and candy.
You know that I care deeply, and you are in my thoughts.
All of us have lost our patience with our children, and shouted at them. What matters more is what happens after.
I care.
And I have faith in you.
xo
We believe in you.
Along with Charles, am holding and caring with intensity and much much love from across the pond.
Love you. Lots.
Love, hugs, acceptance, support, and an ear are all here if you want them. Please accept my apologies for the lack of comments from me lately – I lack words to say exactly how I feel but have been thinking of you every day.
Oh, and when you’re in mourning (whether it’s for a relationship severed or a life lived and lost) those random thoughts about (in your case) the man who wired the lights are completely normal and not stupid at all. There are a million things that happen so often they are often taken for granted until suddenly they’re not there anymore. We all know it’s about more than wired lights, but wired lights are a part of the equation.
Amen to what Easy said. It’s just so hard when kids cannot comprehend just how much the grownups hurt sometimes. But often it’s the makeup time with them that really counts.
Like I’ve said before, feel free to release all your anger, frustration, confusion, sorrow, etc. here. After all, it’s your blog and I don’t think any of us mind. And instead of offering trite platitudes, we will just sit back and listen.
PS: thanks for sharing the fairys. I too just got offered a job.
My friend, I care.
“You’re probably going to get sick of these posts, but the problem is I have fucking shedloads of confusion, anger, and hurt and absolutely no where to put it…”
Shannon, It doesn’t matter if we get ’sick of these posts’ or not. It is your blog to do with as you damn well please. :) If anybody doesn’t like it, they can simply go away. However there are many of us who silently read your words and do our best to send positive thoughts and vibes your way clear across the planet hoping that they can help you reach through each day and start a new one. Obviously, you can not see or hear these silents thoughts, but please trust that they are there and even though most of us on here, may not really ‘know’ you at all, we’ve come to care about you and want to see you succeed. Your strength is clearly incredible, your humor hilarious and your way with words amazing. Please keep it all up as best you can. We are hear to listen, even if we just lurk and don’t comment often.
–Christopher
Wow, I wrote that before I even read the poem. Yes, I, WE, care!
Don’t worry about us getting sick of your posts. this is here for you to express yourself!
I love the poem, it so expresses how I feel right now as well, even though my loss is of my daughter instead.
I care so, so much.
Holding you in my thoughts today. Hoping you’re not too hard on yourself. Hoping peace for you and your Lemonheads.
Caring here, too!
My heart breaks for you. I sincerely hope you find the peace you deserve.
I care, too, and keep writing whatever you want!
I care too my friend!
I haven’t known what to write because I want to avoid anythng trite. I’m so sorry that you’re hurting, and you are in my heart every day!
You are extraordinary. The brokeness, pain and anger doesn’t change that.
Sending love from your laughing like a carrot friend.
Coming out of lurkdom to say…….I care, also.
Care and prayers.
From across this ocean, I just ache for you, every day.
writing it all out is good for you, keep writing. I wish there was something someone could say or do to make it all right in your world again, but processing all your feelings through writing is probably going to be a big help to you. {{{HUGS}}}}
I have a lot of anger myself and it’s not good for me or my son. I too often lose patience with him. It’s part of being a parent. But it is hard. I took in a boxing class this week and it was a great way to get out my agression. I highly recommend it. There is nothing like taking your anger out on a punching bag.
It hurts that all I can do is say, “I care,” too. I wish that I could do more, even if it’s only to put in your favorite movies and divert the kidlets for a while.
Keep swimming, dear.
I care! Hugs and caring being sent your way.
Thinking of you.
I care. *hug*
Not tired of your posts at all, just sad that you have to go through such pain. Thinking of you and the babes, and wishing you all the best. I care and I’m proud to be allowed to listen.
Ah, Shannon. I’m so, so very sorry you’re going through this. Your children know you love them – don’t fault yourself for doing what it sounds like was the best option at the time.
Some of the best advice I’ve ever gotten is to have mercy on myself. It rarely occurs to me how horribly hard I am on myself, and it really doesn’t help a bloody thing. The world can be mean enough, it doesn’t need my help in tearing me up. Everything you’re feeling is normal. The rage and the hurt, all part of the grieving package. Eat what you want when you can. You’re operating under tremendous strain, please cut yourself a break whenever you’re able.
You are an amazingly strong, resilient woman. Breathe deep and keep hanging on – you will all make it through this.
Oh Shannon, I care. I’ve been reading your blog for such a long while now that it doesn’t matter what you write, I will read. Your words are sometimes flowing and sometimes disjointed, but they are always you and that’s what is important.
Would you rather take ownership of your emotions, however vast, wide ranging, intense, and impetuous they are or would you rather be numb and go through the motions? At least the feelings remind you, you’re alive.
Caring here too from my little corner of the world….
My friend, I care.
Just here to say I’m thinking of you…you reached out to me once, a few months ago, at a time when all was darkness for me, a simple email that said “hey, I’m here to listen if you need me”. You were a light when I desperately needed one. Thank you…and I’m here if you need someone, too.
I care…
*hugs* big, deep, holding, crying *hugs*
Goonies never give up, and they never say die!
Inexplicably, I DO care, very much.
One foot in front of the other. One breath after another.
I am thinking of you. Often.
Caring… always.