It is probable that I will not be having therapy next week. The twins have something going on at school that requires my presence and conflicts with my appointment. I didn't find out about it in time to give New Guy decent notice and he has no other openings unless another client cancels. For one fleeting moment, I felt like I had a choice. I could choose to neglect the outer children, or I could choose to neglect the inner children. You see what I chose. I know I have desperate inner children who need New Guy in the worst way, but I am sworn by my commitment as mother of the outer children. It's something I have always taken very seriously and I cannot help it. My children are the hill I would die on if need be. I love them too much. And yet I have been struggling mightily since making the 'choice'. I had a terrible day Wednesday. I kept having horrible feelings of desperation and death, thoughts of being separated from New Guy and even thoughts that something bad could happen to him or to me and then I would never see him again. And the hypochondria was running rampant. I couldn't so much as fart without thinking it was a sign of a deadly disease. Ridiculous, I know. But that doesn't stop it.
In spite of everything (because I was drunk), I went to bed earlier than usual Wednesday morning. I didn't quite get enough sleep and I didn't know what to do with myself when I woke up, but I ended up writing. Granted, it was only 200 words and I sort of 'cheated' by putting the burden on the conscious editor to delay the inevitable, but I got a few words in by god. Just because. Because I just have to show up and keep doing shit and acting normal. Even if I feel like I'm drowning. I guess that's the best I can do right now.
I just need to find a way to get through the next two weeks. And then find a way to get through Christmas and the New Year and the cold weather and the children's birthdays and Easter and then summer, too. It never ends. And I'm on my own for the most of it. I guess that's why I don't mind drunkenness so very much. I've got the Irish liver and the Super Immunity (the delta 32 mutation). I'll be fine. Somehow. Somehow I'll find a way to be alright. God willing and the creek don't rise, right? Too bad I don't believe in god. The fucking creek had better NOT rise. If it does, Rambo might have to drop some explosives on it.
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Your plate is definitely full. I'm with you if we can just make through the Holidays etc we can worry about something else later. Our kids are our life line and we would do anything for them. All I can say is I agree with you, agree, agree!
ReplyDeletehad to trade my plate in for a platter... I hate that, the whole "I just have to get through "this" and then "This" and then just "This"..." There's not really any enjoyment in that, is there?
ReplyDelete"Lynn's Choice". You're such a good mother, you know that? Despite the fact that you had NO ROLE MODEL! You are a wonderful mom to your own children. Wonder can you maybe schedule some phone time with new guy?
Thinking of you and standing by you- *power of two* ya know. I washed my hair today :-)
XXOO ~ G.
Twohunnerd words are twohunnerd words.
ReplyDeleteAnd "just because" (in your second paragraph, the whole thing) describes the need for structure. We simply need it. The alternative is diffluence. Trickle off. (Thomas Mann managed to sit down any day in the morning and start writing: A lot of it had to be thrown away, but something was worth to be kept.)
It's a way through the next two weeks and on and on - it's the same thing any fucking minute. The heart beats on - and you do not want to feel how it is when it has difficulties with its job, believe me - situations arise and get mastered, better or not.
Some things stay. Oneself is forced to deceide on what to put the emphasis. I choose reading, writing. For some this is idle unproductive and lazy. But these can seriously fuck off, it's mine.
No I do not have children of my own, I was (am I still?) a stepfather for the last fifteen years.
I want you to write. May I say this? I simply do. I think it is good for you. Maybe a reflection of the book-religion that coined my life. Ha.
Sorry for this late howdoyoucallit? WHo is Sophie? The Sophie from the title.
ReplyDeleteIt's from a movie in which a woman is forced to choose between her two children.
ReplyDelete