Decision Made

I am sitting on my couch. In my house. Writing on my laptop and posting to the blog using our Wi-Fi instead of “borrowed” internet from the neighbors. I’m home. For three and half days.

It was hard to make myself walk out the door. It was hard to leave the children with their beatific smiles. It was hard to leave my dad who woke up feeling crappy this morning. It was hard to leave my mom with everything to handle on her own. It felt utterly selfish. But I did it anyway. Because I know that regardless of what path this process takes, it’s going to get infinitely harder before the end and I needed to take a few days to rejuvenate. To do absolutely nothing I didn’t want to do. To not have my days dictated by my gorgeous little authoritarian offspring. And maybe if I’m really lucky, I will get to meet E and C’s new baby boy before I head back down to my parents’ house.

The drive was easy again thanks to the books on CD (which I shamelessly subjected my husband to). The roads were mostly clear and even though there is something very wrong with the electrical system in my car (I drove home with no speedometer or RPM, oil and battery gauges) we made it in great time.

We only brought one car back, so I’ll be housebound unless I want to take my husband to work every morning (which I don’t). But that’s fine. I have plenty that I want to get done while I’m here. Although I think I probably will take the car one day if for no other reason than to be able to pick my husband up from work and have us do a mega-splurge for a date night (most of our “dates” are shoe-horning a movie in when my mom is visiting and it’s usually at a very non-date time, like first thing in the morning).

I’m giving myself permission to put the guilt down and walk away. So that when I do return, I can resume my role as mother and daughter and be at the top of my game.

Mix Anxiety with Guilt and...

I am feeling guilty. Because I desperately want to go home with my husband tomorrow for a few days until he was planning on coming back to my parents’ house on Thursday anyway. I would love to sit in my house and just enjoy the quiet. I would love to not have to do anything except catch up on my DVR’d TV shows from before I left and watch any and all of the copious movies we got/gave for Christmas. I would love to delve into my music wish list and spend some of the iTunes gift certificates I got. I would love to take some time to start researching and writing notes about the first story in the new blog I’m going to kick off on New Year’s Day. I would love to take three days and just be in a bit of solitude and utter quiet.

Here is the problem. I feel totally guilty wanting that right now. Ridiculously guilty. At this point where my one and only priority should be spending as much time as possible with my dad. At this point where I should be last on my priority list.

I have this sort of double-edged anxiety that sets in when I think about leaving, even for just a couple of days. Anxiety that my mom will call in the middle of the night and tell me my dad has died and I wasn’t there. Anxiety that if I don’t take some time for me, to refocus and decompress that I will very soon lose my footing here and start taking it out on my parents and children. I know the whole theory “if you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take care of anyone else.” I know that. And I am even willing to concede that it’s true. But I also know that in situations such as these, where my role as mother and daughter far outweigh any role as individual, that little nugget of wisdom simply does not apply.

So I am struggling right now. Trying to figure out what is the right thing to do and hoping like hell that I am right, whichever way I choose.

10/17/09 - Jumping through Hoops

Here’s the most irritating thing about filing for bankruptcy (other than having to give a lawyer a big pile of money to have it legally, and publically, recorded that we don’t have any money) – having to take the pre and post-filing classes that are required by federal law. We have had to go through several companies that offer these classes for an assortment of fees (yet again having to spend more money to prove that we don’t have any money) and figure out which one will not only be the cheapest, but also the most expedient. Because we can’t legally file with the courts until we get the pre-filing credit counseling course taken and the completion certificate sent to our lawyer so he can include it in the final petition.

Now, let me be clear in that I really, truly understand why these classes are required. No one wants people to use bankruptcy as a way of hiding from a huge pile of debt that they got into on purpose. And no one wants someone to file for bankruptcy without having explored every single available option. It really is a last resort sort of thing. So making these courses mandatory gives people two more hoops to jump through as well as making sure they are educated on the process and its ramifications. I totally get that. Having said that however, they are a presently a gigantic pain in my ass.

Especially this first class because it’s a two parter. We each have to take the online course which I’m guessing will take about an hour or so and then we have to schedule a phone counseling follow up call to help establish a budget which will probably take another hour or so. I know that 2 hours sounds pretty inconsequential. But it’s really not. Especially since it’s computer and phone time where I have to, you know, pay attention. Show me a mother who time for this.

And the part of me that has painful clarity on why we are in this process resents the fact that I am forced to pay someone to tell me this is a bad place in which to be.

Whiplash

I have been feeling really weird and out of it lately. And as I was trying to explain the whole thing to my mom this morning, something dawned on me. I think that mother guilt is almost easier to deal with than the simple not knowing when or if something will strike.

I’ve had several instances that should definitely be nominated for the “Worst Mother of the Year” award. Like when me opening The Boy’s door to his room caused his first tooth to be knocked out. Or when I let The Girl swallow a quarter last year which then got stuck in her esophagus and had to be surgically removed. Or when I let The Boy fall down an entire flight of stairs when he was just starting to crawl.

But this whole seizure thing with The Girl came out of nowhere and I didn’t do anything wrong, nor should I have done anything different. So there really is not any guilt surrounding it for me. At least when there’s guilt then I can learn from my fuck up and do something different in the future. With this, I just have to wait and see. She may have another seizure tomorrow or she may never have another one again.

And this not knowing; this inability to change anything in my mothering to prevent this, in addition to the suddenness of it all has caused some fairly severe whiplash. I was plugging along really well. Applying for jobs, kicking ass on the pro bono projects I had taken on, starting to build on the late night idea for a pretty cool foundation, remembering all the stuff I needed to do for both kids’ schools. All the everyday sort of stuff as well as the ongoing work needed for this journey was coming along pretty well. I was focused and alert and completely in the moment. It was good.

Now? Now I’m all achy and weirded out and fuzzy. And I feel like I’m floundering trying to find my bearings again. It is a very strange feeling to know that you did everything right and still ended up smacking into that brick wall going 80 mph.

Runaway

I was pretty crazy in high school. Lots of partying. Lots of drinking. A fair amount of dabbling here and there and everywhere with all things dangerous and/or envelope pushing. Because of that, when I went to college, I wasn’t all that crazy. I was actually pretty staid truth be told. When I arrived on campus, I had already stopped drinking and wouldn’t start drinking again for almost two more years. I was pretty focused and there to study, not party. I mean, yes, I stayed up way too late almost every night and went to parties, but I did it without killing anymore brain cells.

In high school, I was pretty good at just letting go and doing whatever the moment moved me to do. For better or for worse, regardless of regret come the morning light, if I needed a night of unrestrained fun, crazy or adventure that is exactly what I let myself do. Even when I did start drinking again in college, I never really got to that point again. And I gotta say that every once in a while I really miss it. The ability to just let go and be and do whatever comes next.

Which is one of the reasons why I ran away to Denver yesterday. Not only because I needed some art in my life. Not only because I needed some alone time. Not only because I needed some friend time. But because I needed to just let go and be. And I did and it was more fun than I’ve had in a long, long time. I charmed my friends into staying outside to play darts next to the chiminea when it was entirely too cold to hang out outside. I drank too much. I laughed more than I have in months. And I managed to kick some ass at the second game of darts.

It was grand. And then I woke up this morning to a whopping headache. But it was worth it. And when I called home to check on the kiddos, the guilt returned because they both had fevers. But I’m trying not to let that guilt sully such an amazing day.