Five years ago today I got the call that would lead to the end of something that had started 10 months previously. Looking back, I think I can say that it was the day that I finally lost myself after the previous 5 years of fighting to find myself again. I suppose that I ought to give some background so that this makes sense to someone other than me...

In 2005, Peter and I agreed that it was time for a divorce. In June 2006, the divorce was finalized. Memorial Day weekend 2017, I left the house that we had bought together and everything I knew to move to New York. To say that I was lost is perhaps the understatement of the century. I left behind everything I knew and in some ways, my very identity. For the 10 years or so before that, I had been known as Peter's wife. Since 2000, I had been someone's mom. There was no me outside of those two roles. I didn't have any local friends. The only people I socialized with were online.

For the next five or six years, I fought to figure out who I was without being someone's wife or mother. (Of course, I was still the boy's mom but I had made the heartbreaking decision to leave the boys with their dad because he had the job, the money, the insurance, and the location where all of Ben's team were located.) I missed almost an entire semester of school due to a depression so bad that it crippled me and gave me panic attacks whenever I tried to get into the car to go anywhere. I ended up in therapy that was mostly useless because the therapist decided that my entire issue was that I was lonely. I wasn't lonely, I was lost.

I did finish that semester of school by some tiny miracle, dropping most of my classes, and having some incredibly understanding instructors. I finished the following year as well and while it improved, I never really shook that depression. Later, I would be diagnosed as Bipolar II. I graduated with honors with a degree in Psychology and was once again faced with the idea of having nowhere to go. The people I had been renting from wanted me out and I wanted out. The atmosphere was unhealthy on almost every level. In the end, I decided to "come home". I needed to be back with my boys. I found a house to rent in Sunfield, about 25 miles from them. It wasn't perfect but it was at least within driving distance. I threw myself back into being their mother. I drove (and still do) every day to town to do homework with one or both of them. I went (and still go) to all of their events. This was a me that I knew.

Slowly, piece by piece, I recovered from losing the world that I knew and I started to build up a new one. I was finding me again. I started writing again. I started crafting again. I slowly purged the things that I had accumulated and that I really had no need for. I felt as if I had close friends, even if they again lived nowhere near me. I started working out and eating better. In fact, I think I lost close to 75 pounds and for the first time in a long time, didn't hate myself when I looked in the mirror.

My Grandparents

Then, my world started to crumble again. The only person who I had ever felt loved me unconditionally got sick and suddenly everyone was leaning on me for strength and acted as if I could somehow magically fix it. I should have been stronger. I should have said no, but I didn't. They knew what cards to play. They reminded me how she'd taken me in when my own parents didn't want me. Before I knew it, I was spending almost every weekend at her house cleaning, organizing, purging, sorting and with my poor boys in tow. It wasn't fair to me and it wasn't fair to them, but the guilt laid on me was too much for me to say no to.

I stopped working out. I stopped cooking because I was tired and stressed and I was starting to crack around the edges. I was trying to keep everything normal but nothing was normal and the guilt of the fact that I was dragging my children into it added to everything. Five years ago today, my grandmother died after being sick for 10 months. I'm not going to lie. I was glad. I was glad that she was no longer suffering and I was glad that it was over. Except, for me, it wasn't over.

For the next six weeks, my family would guilt me into going through ever box that had been packed and sorting it into things they could sell and things they could toss. I was exposed to their greed, their hypocrisy, and their selfishness. They were allowed to mourn but I was expected to work. During that six weeks, I was pushed to my breaking point and at the end, when I finally had the strength or perhaps the desperation to say no more, it was too late. I had lost myself again. I had lost myself and I had lost the few close "local" friends that I had thought I'd had. I went home and buried myself..literally.

Boxes and boxes of her things had made their way to my house either because I'd brought them there or because they'd been dumped there. On top of that, I had started to surround myself with stuff in a desperate effort to feel some sort of security. In the years that followed, it would only get worse. There are very few who know the true conditions that I was living in and in some ways, still live in. I wish I could explain how this was "okay" to me but I can't because it wasn't. The worse the house got, the worse I felt. The guilt, the anxiety, all of it overwhelmed me until I was crippled and frozen by it.

Five years ago, I lost myself again and I'm just starting to find myself. Some of you have seen the tag Reclaiming Me either here or on Facebook. That's a very real thing for me.  Just over a year ago, I started purging my house again. I've backslid at times and made huge strides at others. Eight months ago, Nick convinced me to work with him on a book series. When he brought it up in exchange for doing something for me, we both knew that it wasn't a fair deal but neither of us cared. I think he knew I needed to push myself, that I needed a challenge and as for me, I felt ready to take that challenge. Oh, I've had major bouts of anxiety and self doubt since that agreement, but I finished book one and it's had good feedback.

Five years is a long time and I'm not back to the place I was before it happened. I wish that I could say that I was, but I'm not. Every day is a challenge on some level. Today, I woke up and my power was still out because of a wind storm yesterday. I was cold, tired from waking up repeatedly because i was cold, emotional because of today's anniversary and while what I really wanted was to have a message saying I love you, I had one that felt harsh...harsher than it really was but a tired me is a vulnerable me. I'm not going to lie. I laid on the couch for an hour and just cried. The world felt like it was just too much for me. Just thinking about it has me in tears again. This morning I relived the loss of everything that mattered to me and it's still in my head... but I got up, changed into jeans, and drove to someplace warm that had outlets so I could recharge things in case there's still no power when I get home tonight.

Five years is a long time, but it isn't forever and today I'm a little bit stronger than I was then. Today, I got up off the couch. Today, I walked out my front door. Today, I wrote this. Tomorrow, I will write more. Two years from now, I will make a final decision on where I'm moving to and hopefully, I will have the courage to do it. I know where I want to be at that point. It's not just up to me though, but today, under the fear and the emotions, there is hope.



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 For the past 24 hours or so, I've had a need to write this post. Of course, this morning, I woke up with a rotten head cold and so my words don't flow as fluently as they might normally. I hope you can forgive me and muddle through the best you can.

Life is hard right now. I know that this, in itself, isn't news to anyone who knows me. What I have noticed though is a certain lack of love and support coming my way as I deal with this. I'm sure there are at least a couple of reasons for this.

1) You don't know what to say. I'm dealing with the upcoming death of the woman who raised me and when there's death involved, people don't know what to say. I'm sorry doesn't seem enough and death is an area so many are afraid of. It's as though if we acknowledge it, it makes it more real. It's an uncomfortable topic and so instead of saying anything, we say nothing.

2) This isn't new news. On some level or another, I've been dealing with this since May when she first got sick. Perhaps people think that when you deal with something like this over months that you become numb to it and no longer need the support and love that you did originally.

Here's the things, folks..death is real. Death happens to all of us. Most of us have experienced the death of a loved one by the time they reach our ages. It doesn't matter if death takes 10 months or 10 minutes, it hits just the same way. Some people feel that if you have time to get used to the idea that it's easier. I'm here to tell you that they're wrong. You cannot prepare yourself for the pain that comes with losing someone. When it's something that takes longer, there's an entirely different grief of watching that vibrant person disappear before your eyes. It's heartbreaking and tragic and it's something that we will all go through at one point or another in our lives.

I know that some of you don't know how to handle what's happening to me and for you, I write this list entitled..What I Need:

1. Random text messages - Just out of the blue, drop me a line. Ask me how I am. Tell me you love me. Tell me you're thinking about me. It doesn't have to be a novel, just a quick note to remind me I'm not alone.

2............................................................................................................

Right now, there is no 2 because I started to write this on Thursday night and everything in my life changed on Friday morning. At about 7:48am, I got a phone call from my uncle saying that my grandmother was going downhill and they didn't think she'd make it more than another 5-6 hours. I was there in less than 2 and in less than 1 more, she was gone. She went peacefully (thank you, morphine) but she left a hole that will never be filled in my life.

So, tonight, I start a new What I Need list:

It's really quite simple. I need your everything. I need your cards, your letters, your texts, your calls, your flowers, your ham love and your attention. I need to be reminded that while it feels like I just lost my world, I'm not alone. I'm still loved. I'm still cared for.

There is so much going on right now. So much that I want to tell you but the timing just isn't right. Trust me when I say that things have gone way too close to how I predicted they would. It makes everything ten times harder. It's been 3 days and I still haven't been able to just sit and cry. I know others have. I know every time I think I might be able to just bleed off some of the emotion, I get a phone call and I have to fix something. It's exhausting.

Quite honestly, I'm running on fumes right now and the little recharges I get come from all of you. They come from people like Kate who setup a special livestream last night  and spent hours upon hours coloring pieces just so that I wouldn't be alone. People came in to watch and we laughed and joked and were weird and silly and it was wonderful. She didn't have to. She could have sat at her geekily fantastic workstation and worked without all of us and our commentary, but she did it for me. She let me feel special. The people who came in and laughed and joked with me made me feel special. I was one in a group not one standing alone.

They come from friends who tell you to come see them for the weekend because you shouldn't be alone. They come from Facebook messages that say I love you. They come from all of you.

I know that talking about death is hard. I know that it's one of those things that most of us sheer off to one side to avoid. It's ok. I understand that. I don't need to talk about death. I just need to talk sometimes. Sometimes when I'm busy holding up the world, I need folks to help hold me up. I can't be a super hero all the time. Sometimes, I am very human.

So, whether you're someone big or someone small, remember that your part in this is very important. Your part is to love me and to show me you love me. Your job is to remember that right now I have a need to be selfish and about me. In some areas, I'm the only one protecting me. Y'all are like the squire who straps his knight into his armor. You help prepare me for the battles I have to face.



** Please don't send sandwich ham. 20 years after my grandfather's death and I still can't look at those rolled up pieces of meat and want to eat them. **

~.~.~. Some have asked about funeral services. There will be a private family graveside ceremony on March 13 and then a public memorial service to come later. ~.~.~.

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Hi all. I just wanted to drop in here and let everyone know that I'm going to be gone for a few days, possibly the rest of the week. My mother messaged me tonight (no, do not ask me why nobody picks up a phone to reach me.) on Facebook to let me know that my Grandmother was taken to the hospital yesterday. She has some problems with the veins/arteries/tubes/whathaveyou that run to her kidneys and as such, the impurities/waste does not leave her body the way it should and for some reason, it ends up going into her legs where it forms like an infection and clear fluid seeps through her skin at all times. Right, now that you have that image, huh? Anyway, it got to the point where it was so swollen and painful, she couldn't even stand. For some unknown reason, she had the former minister's wife take her to the hospital instead of calling family. I'm sure something like she didn't want any of us to worry.

Anyway, she was told to make an appointment at the wound center. Well, as of earlier today, it hadn't been done and it seems that nobody over there is stepping forward to take care of things. Instead, they're busy telling each other what should be done.

So, I'm packing up my things and heading over there to make sure things get done. As my oldest says, when mom is serious, you'd better just do what she says. While I'm there, I'm going to start (and hopefully finish) decluttering her upstairs and probably doing a lot of cooking and cleaning and bossing my sister's children around and making them help. I love them but they've not been made to help out around there and they're more than old enough.

I love my family but they're enough to drive me insane. All good intentions and promises but so damn little follow through.

Anyway, that's where I'm going to be. Of course, there's no net connection because why should life be easy, eh? I will, however, try to write up my posts offline and post them once I'm back home. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I have the suspicion I'm going to need all the help/strength I can get.