Tag: Hope

More of the Same

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How’s everyone? Drowning in misery? Yeah, me too. I guess I have been for quite some time but this somehow feels worse. Probably being totally cut off from society (and other adults) being the culprit. Don’t get me wrong, I love the shit out of my kids, I just wish there was maybe one other adult around to love them with me. Post-widowhood pandemic is not doing great things for my mental state.

Things I’m not doing well in this new phase of life:

  1. Homeschool – I was not made to teach my child. I was especially not made to teach my child math. There has been arguing. There has been tears. We’re doing a little bit better each day, which I guess shows progress, but if we both make it out of this unscathed, well, color me surprised.
  2. Reading – I am reading 5 books at present. That’s not how you’re supposed to do it, but since when do I do things the way you’re supposed to do them. I started It’s Always the Husband while my husband was still alive. And while it held my interest for a while, whenever I did have a chance to read, I chose not to, choosing instead to hold onto my husband. I haven’t been able to pick it back up since he passed away. I stopped (mid-chapter mind you) on page 122. Next up When Children Grieve. This one is a real nail biter guaranteed to put you to sleep just by opening the cover. It should be something I make myself read, and I did for a while, and then I stopped. Next, my mom gave me James Patterson’s The Inn, telling me what a quick and easy read it was. I’m on page 59. There are far too many characters and different stories happening for my current state of ill-performing brain, so I put that one down. Another one that I pick up and put down at random is a story a bit like mine – a young widow with young children, only she lost her husband suddenly, and I knew for a while that I was losing mine. It’s called Confessions of a Mediocre Widow and it’s very relatable and very good, I just have to be in the right frame of mind to read it and currently, I guess, the right frame of mind isn’t hanging around my mind. Moving on. Last but not least, and the one I’m actually making progress on is Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine. That’s a lie. She’s not fine at all. Kind of like me, but her story is totally different. I picked it up because the cover literally said it was “Beautifully written and incredibly funny” and while I’m sure it is beautifully written, it has done nothing but invoke feelings of sadness and pity for poor Eleanor. It’s held my interest well enough though, as I’m more than 3/4 of the way through it. And while it has funny moments, I believe it to be a bit of a bold statement claiming it incredibly funny. Me thinks I was duped by that choice of words.
  3. Cleaning. Here I thought we had all this time and I could finally get some much needed cleaning done. Hard pass.
  4. Keeping my shit together. We’ve (my children and I) have been dealt a shitty hand. While we were still allowed to be part of civilization, I think we handled it all pretty well. Take civilization away, enter crazy, angry, weeping us. Apparently our people were holding us together. Take them away, you’re left with sadness from the movie Inside Out. Not really that bad, but we’re crying much more often than we used to, we’re throwing many more tantrums than are acceptable and feeling a deep void that we can no longer fill with all of our loves.
  5. Staying connected. It’s true that deep down, I’m an introvert. I like time to myself. I like the quiet. The more time I spend away from my friends, the easier it seems to not reach out. I fear by the end of this I will turn into some kind of recluse who’s book number has jumped even higher and friend count at an all time low. I won’t really let that happen, but I will deem it a concern.

But, enough of that Debbie Downer crap. On to the good bits! While trying to find a sheet of paper that Colt has not drawn planes, trains and automobiles all over, I came across another list from my Jonesie. Now, they are more of the same things he’s said over and over, but if you know Ash, you know that repeating himself in countless different ways was kind of his jam. It’s another list that he wrote for Jack and while much of it is repetitive, when can we not use a little advice on how to better live our lives, especially now?!

  1. Be open minded.
  2. Be kind.
  3. Be empathetic, compassionate and loving. Accept people. Tell people when you love them. Don’t let moments of greatness pass you by.
  4. Be strong. Don’t be easily influenced by others. Stay true to your values and beliefs. Don’t succumb to peer pressure.
  5. Choose your friends wisely. Stay away from drugs, alcohol, violence and hate. Always choose love.
  6. Set goals and work to achieve them. Start small and work your way up. Stay motivated.
  7. Maintain your hobbies – continue with your love for sports. Explore nature. Read every day (this wasn’t on there but don’t read 5 books at the same time, don’t be like Mama!)
  8. Practice, practice, practice. You wan’t to hone your skills? You have to work at it. Every. Single. Day. Hard work always pays off in the end.

Well, I was always one to argue some of Ash’s points and I will say that we worked our asses off trying to stop the spread of cancer and that one didn’t work. So while hard work may not always pay off, it is always worth trying. Stay strong my friends. We’ll get through this, one painstakingly slow day at a time. Stay connected. Reach out. And always keep an open mind.

The Purge Part 2

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I did it again. I got the dump trailer back and finished The Big Purge as I’m calling it (that’s not true, I’m not calling it anything, just felt like it needed a label. It really doesn’t.)

Moving on, I went through my bathroom, most of the office, the kitchen and both boys’ rooms (shhhh, don’t tell them how many toys and stuffed animals I actually got rid of, it’s a need to know basis, and they DON’T need to know. They also won’t even notice unless specifically told. Because they have too much shit). I went through the garage and then underneath the house where apparently we stored either medieval torture devices or yard tools that I will never touch, can’t be sure which they were.

I worked my ass off yesterday though. I was dirty, sweaty, grimy, smelly (in 5th grade, people thought it was cool to call me smelly Kellie, so original), sweary and all around disgusting. But it sure did feel good! I liked to pretend I was a spear thrower especially with the torture devices/yard tools (I’d let you be the judge but that shit is gone!) throwing them as hard as I could into said dump trailer. There is something very cathartic about throwing heavy things as hard as you fucking can into a trailer than can’t really be damaged (not by me throwing anyway!).

Side note, just got a call on my cell phone from myself. I didn’t answer. I should know I don’t like to talk on the phone. Next time, me, text me if you want a response.

Anyway, as usually happens with The Big Purge (make me stop calling it that), I found another notebook. An Ash notebook. Oh how he loved his lists. (I think I actually channeled my inner Ash with this whole house, moving, building decision because I made lists. Pros. Cons. Neutrals. Ups. Downs. Backs and forths. So, don’t worry, I’m not taking this whole move thing lightly. I’m not leading with my heart. I’m using my big ol’ brains this time around and I think my big ol’ brains are pretty spot on.) Anyway, a lot of tangents here. Sorry.

Back to The Ash Notebook (apparently I’m labeling that, too. Very into labels today). This notebook was one that he started post cancer/ sir-I’m-sorry-to-tell-you-that-you’re-dying-at-age-37 diagnosis. A lot of it was notes on the big words we had been told but didn’t understand. There were phone numbers and doctor names, appointments at Johns Hopkins and Duke, addresses to said appointments, notes on what to bring with us, new vocabulary words such as biliary, esophageal-gastric and tumor markers. There was also some random Turf’s Up notes in there and all star baseball information.

But, also, in The Ash Notebook was a list of all the places he wanted to visit while he was still here with us on Earth. Ash loved to travel. Aside from golf, it was his biggest passion. He was happiest when he was somewhere new, experiencing something different. Some of the places on his list, we actually made happen and some of them we didn’t. We made it to Durango, Silverton, Ouray and Telluride, CO. We made it to Ft. Worth and Austin, TX but did miss out on San Antonio. He made it out to California with Jack but not to the places he was hoping for – San Francisco, San Diego and Redwoods National Forest. We even made it to “somewhere warm and tropical with an oceanfront room.” We went to Jamaica with our boys and had exactly that! How lucky are we? There were only a couple of places he didn’t make it to – Arizona (Tucson, Scottsdale and the Grand Canyon), Ireland (though, to be fair, I think it was his dream to take me there because I wanted to go more than one of his bucket list places), New York City (this one we tried to make happen a few different times but because of either kids, their sports, his treatment schedules and just the way he felt every day, we never did make it happen). We made a lot of it happen, though and I am so grateful for that.

Also in this notebook, I found some notes to me and I thought I’d share them, because it’s exactly what I needed to read, exactly what my heart needed today. I’ve been struggling a lot lately. My anxiety has been high. I’m worried for the future, for the boys, for always being alone, just so much anxiety and this was the soothing balm that my mind, body and soul needed. Here it is:

Kellie:

I’ve been with you a third of my life! 12 years – married for 10 – 2 kids and a Bogey! Wow! 

Words are good but actions are better. 

You show me every day how much you love me and the boys. Selfless, tireless, caring, committed and devoted…

It has been amazing to watch our family grow – and thrive – together – you and I – every step of the way through life, adulthood, parenthood and beyond. Our bond is sacred and special.

No matter what the future holds for us, our past – memories, the history we have together will always keep us comforted. We have weathered so many of life storms together and there will be more ahead – but we will always be together no matter what because you are a part of me and I am a part of you.

I see you in our children like I see myself. The greatest gift you could give me – you already have – it’s your love. As hard as life can be, it’s the people you surround yourself with and spend your time with that truly makes life special. My life could not be more special thanks to you.

He’s so right. He will always live on in our memories and in our hearts. We lived so much in our time together, and while his time has ended, I’m still here. My boys are still here. I think we needed this reminder. Yes, it’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to be angry. But let it come and let is pass. And then live the shit out of this life. Love the shit out of each other. Inhale the good. Exhale the bad. And just keep going. Do what Ash would do. Live with passion and love and humor and travel and all the wonderful things that this life has to offer.

Thank you, Jonesie, for this reminder. Thank you for always being here when I need you most. The boys and I will love you always and we will honor you by living our asses off.

Anger vs. Anger

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Today I am angry. At nothing in particular and at everything in the world. I can feel the heat of rage rushing through my body. I want to hit something. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to lash out at everyone and everything. My keyboard alone is taking quite a beating right now as I type out whatever bull shit is spilling from my brain. My hands are shaking. (No, Elvis, my knees are not weak but I probably am all shook up but it’s got everything and nothing to do with love).

I’m angry that I’m a single parent. I’m angry that my boys have so many questions that I cannot answer. I’m angry that we are in this situation that feels hopeless and dreary. I wake up every morning not wanting to get up. I force myself. I do my yoga. I do my running. Does it help? I don’t fucking know. I guess it doesn’t hurt. I make lunch. I wake the boys. I yell at them entirely too much because I’m constantly lacking in patience (this isn’t a new problem, but now there’s no one around to simmer me down or take control when I can’t handle it). All the time. For no reason. And for all the reasons. Just because I’m so fucking angry.

I don’t want to turn to the dark side, yet I fear the dark side is turning to me. I can feel it. I am no Jedi. I do not feel peace. I feel hate. And anger. And fear. And we all know fear is the path to the dark side.

I have written this post in 2 parts. Above is pre-ass kicking workout (not to be confused with my general daily yoga and running). Below is post ass kicking workout. It’s an experiment of sorts.

Post ass kicking work out I am still angry. I can feel it. Tears are on the verge of spilling out of my eyes on the constant. But it’s muted down a little bit. The force of the dark side, if you will (I love a good Star Wars reference), isn’t as strong. It’s there, but I can manage it.

Currently, I’m still shaking but it’s because of adrenaline and endorphins running through my body thanks to that “chill” gym my girlfriend convinced me to now join for 6 months. Today’s workout kicked my ass (hence the above statements), as all the others have in the past. But while I was in it, I had somewhere to target my aggression. I did so many push up variations and sit up variations and core work and so many plank moves and burpees (and by the way, fuck a burpee), and I did it all, mostly successfully and while I did it, I didn’t feel anything other than exhaustion and pain and shaking arms, legs and core and near death like feelings. But I didn’t have to think about anything else. I just had to focus on my next move and pushing through, working harder, doing better.

And it made me realize, not only am I physically/literally exercising, my whole life is a new exercise that I have to push through, and work harder and do better. Even when I’m angry. Even when I’m sad. Even when I feel like I can’t take another step or even breathe another breath (ok, that doesn’t even makes sense but whatever). Because my kids deserve that. My family deserves that. My friends deserve that. And I deserve that.

The Selfish Truth

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I have a lot of feelings on this sunny (finally) Super Bowl Sunday. I feel the need to explain myself a bit regarding my writings. I write because I have to. It is a need deep within my soul, my heart, my mind. Take your pick. I think any can apply.

I loved a man. Sometimes I hated a man. I thought about divorcing a man countless times. I learned to accept a man. A man learned to accept me. All of that is fact. I lost that man at 37 years of age. There are so many different feelings regarding that man and losing that man. Love, loss, grief, rage, guilt, relief, pain, happiness, sadness, pity, hate, humor, loneliness, exhaustion, hope – the list is endless. Real, human feelings and emotions that I can’t, don’t know how and don’t want to express face to face with even my closest, favorite and most trusted people.

I write. I write what is in my heart. And I share what I write because maybe somebody else needs to read it. Maybe those closest, favorite and most trusted people get a better understanding of what I can’t share verbally. And maybe they don’t. This is about me, though. How I cope. I share my rage and anger. I share my happiness. I share my love. I share my guilt. This is my safe place. The place that is just for me. My own form of therapy. How I get through the day to day life without that man. I do not write to offend, although my writings can be offensive. My writing is selfish. I am self-absorbed in my pain and in my joy and in my release and getting all of the swirling, a lot of times contradictory, messy, beautiful and often inappropriately hilarious feelings that are racing through my body every minute of every day.

My writings can be funny, they can be exaggerated, they can be morose, they can have many typographical errors because the words start coming out so fast that they sometimes don’t make sense and I often times don’t have the time to go back and proofread even though proofreading is one my favorite things to do. I’ve heard my writing can provoke feelings in others. I’ve heard they can be helpful to others. I’ve heard that they can piss others off. Please know, I am not writing to upset anyone. It’s not about you. It’s about me. Selfish, self loving and self hating me. These are my stories, my thoughts, my life. I curse. A lot. I cry. A lot. I laugh. A lot. And I share. A lot. I turn my filter off when I sit at my computer screen and I let my fingers (and my mind/heart/soul) do the rest. It’s never pretty or eloquent but it’s real. My reality (other than those exaggerated bits but we all know I love a good laugh!).

What I ask of you is to read it if you wish. Or don’t. But please, take it for what it is. My world. My life. My feelings. My children’s world and life and feelings. We are on a constant roller coaster. Up, down, up, up, down, up, down, down, down, up (ok, I don’t know what roller coaster has that many peaks and valleys but you get the point). That is life. We love the good, work through the bad and embrace the in between.

I write. I write because I have to. I write because it helps me. And right now, I’ll take all the help I can get.

 

Winning (and Losing)

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First of all, I will have you all know that I found all 3 fucking tape measures. In the same day! So if that’s not winning, I don’t know what is! I have also started successfully jogging 1.25 miles without stopping. Can’t be long until I’m shitting my pants in the NY marathon because I just can’t stop, won’t stop. Kidding. 1. That’s disgusting and b. I will never run that much ever because I don’t want to.  I went totally out of my comfort zone yesterday and went to a Whimsy Warrior (low impact/high intensity) class. Where there were other people. And mirrors. And an instructor. It wasn’t pretty, but I did it! Don’t let that name full you either, there was nothing “whimsy” about that damn class. My friend told me it was so “chill”. My friend is a liar. But I love her anyway!! It really was awesome. And awful. And I can barely walk today. Also can’t wait to go back again!

Last night was Jack’s first basketball game of the season. He scored a career high 12 points, had several rebounds and just played his little heart out (side note, he’s a bit asthmatic and “we” forgot to do his inhaler before the game so the poor kid was sucking wind the whole time. Mom fail.) It was a nail biter of a game that we won 18-17 (it’s 9-10 year old basketball, keep your expectations low.) Jack’s team was up 18-16 with 6 seconds to go. The other team had the ball and was dribbling down to shoot. Poor Jack fouled the kid right as he was going up to shoot as the buzzer went off simultaneously. Jack was not happy with himself. The other team made the first foul shot and and my son, who happens to be exactly like me (unfortunately, fortunately, who knows?) shows some anger on the court, which looks a bit like bad sportsmanship. He is only 10 and controlling those emotions is hard.

Jack is exactly like me. He looks like me, other than having his dad’s eyes. He’s strong, competitive, sarcastic, emotional, shy, stoic when it comes to matters of the heart, yet wears his heart on his sleeve everywhere else, he’s his own toughest critic. Because of that competitive spirt and critical nature, those emotions show all over the place when on the basketball court, baseball field or football field and last night was no different. When the other team made that first foul shot, he slammed his hands on the court. What looked like bad sportsmanship to anyone that doesn’t know much about Jack, was really Jack being super pissed with himself for making the mistake of fouling. That’s a tough thing to learn at 10 years old, controlling your emotions.

When we got home last night, he broke down in my arms and told me how sorry he was. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what he was apologizing for or why he was crying (he just played the best basketball game of his. life thus far and we won). I just hugged him and rocked him and let him have his cry. When he had calmed down a bit I asked him why he was upset and sorry. He said “I just got so mad at myself, mama. I knew not to foul but I did it anyway and everyone thought I was being a bad sport. I didn’t mean to be a bad sport.” My heart just broke for him. I knew how it looked when he slammed the court, but I also knew that my baby was just being so hard on himself. My little boy has so many feelings running through him at all times, especially right now, and the last thing I want for him is to ever feel bad about how he’s feeling. Feelings are real things, whether anyone understands them or not. You cannot tell someone how to feel or how they should react to something. Sure, as adults, we *can* control our outward emotions (I use the term “can” loosely, lord knows when it comes to most things, you know exactly how I’m feeling when I’m feeling it, except, of course, matters of the heart, I like to keep those feelings close to the belt.) My son is no different than me. How can I teach him to control his emotions when I, myself, can’t control mine?

Sports are a major outlet for him. He excels at them, so far, anyway, in his 10 years. They bring him joy and they also bring him pain. Hell, watching him brings me joy and brings me pain. I guess it’s all about balance. You can’t have the good without the bad. You can’t know what it’s like to win without also knowing what it’s like to lose. I pray he perseveres through, works through his demons and goes on to find all the joy that his heart can hold. In whatever that may be. I hope he always wears his heart on his sleeve and stays true to who he is. Because who he is is really fucking awesome. (And that sounds like I just called myself really fucking awesome because up there a bit I said he was just like me. Guess what though? I am pretty fucking awesome, too!)