In the parking lot of my local market, there’s a space that sits directly across from the store’s entrance. It’s a rock star parking space; the kind you tend to get an ego boost from when you’re lucky enough to snag it. Continue reading
We’ve all had our hearts broken, haven’t we? Where our chests throb with pain and the agony of withdrawal renders us useless, doomed to a life (though thankfully temporary) of holing up in our beds, eating ice cream (or in the worst cases, not eating at all). Continue reading
In a perfect world, after the arduous task of accepting that my husband was never coming back, I would file for divorce and leap into autonomy with grace and courage.
Alas, I did not construct my life in a way that makes the above scenario very plausible. Continue reading
“Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.” – unknown (though often attributed to Buddha)
I’m angry. I hate that I’m angry. It doesn’t take a psych degree to know that anger stems from hurt. And my hurt stems from disappointment. And my disappointment stems from unmet expectations…and you know what they say about expectations. Continue reading
In a comment made on my post Children Need Their Fathers…Duh!, D.A. Wolf of Daily Plate Of Crazy mentioned our “happiness’ culture.” This got me thinking about the quagmire that anyone in the midst of trauma finds ourselves in. We all know the platitudes. We know that everything works out in the end and that a good attitude is key, but we also can’t repress and deny the genuine pain and dis-ease we experience when faced with huge life changes that include upheaval and loss.
Probably the primary triggers of my acute phases of depression have been my realizing that I have failed to stay positive and graceful, I have failed to provide a utopian environment for my children, I have failed to “manifest” all that I desire for my children. This sense of failure is an abusive vacuum that in an instant sucks all hope and innovation out of me. I have learned to recognize when it’s happening and immediately shift my focus. Still most days I ward off feelings of inadequacy not just for failing to create the stable life for my children that I had envisioned but also for failing to buck up cheerfully and be a TEDxTalk sensation by now. Continue reading
I’ll admit, when my kids’ dad said he was leaving me and hitting the road, my first impulse was to hoard my children, shield them from their dad’s apparent mid-life crisis, and start a new life without him. I shoved that feeling down and never acted out or impeded his ability to see them. It just so happens he literally left the country for new career opportunities and adopted a nomadic lifestyle. It wasn’t long after his departure that I was on the phone begging him to please come home and help manage the emotional fall out that our separation was having on our kids. Continue reading
My neighbor/friend/comrade in overwhelmed parenthood-ness, likes to say, as the sun sets on our block, “it’s wine o’clock.” This is broadcast to me via a yell from down the street, a text message or a whisper accompanied by the removal of wine from her fridge and distribution into our glasses. For her, an appropriate wine glass. For me, a shot glass (or as she calls it, “a thimble”). I feel like a midget drinking from my tiny wares. But my petite frame renders me an undignified lightweight. Even though I only partake once in a while, those nights are a little mellower, a little funnier, a little closer to manageable. With a little imbibing our veils come off, I learn more about her wilder, thinner, more exciting days and she learns more about mine. It’s a bonding thing. So, why not drink more or at least more often? Continue reading