Monday, March 8, 2010

Falling Apart

I sat in traffic today instead of racing home in time to pick up my son from school. It didn’t matter that I had someplace to be – traffic can’t merge and I am freaking out. While I sat and sat and tried very hard not to ram my car into the person in front of me, just because, I realized that I am very much on the verge of falling apart.

I have been trying for so long to get through this awfulness. I am raising my children everyday and keeping them healthy, happy and safe. I am working. I am packing and moving. I am trying to keep my head above water and then a traffic jam occurs and I am an emotional wreck. I am just sitting and not moving and soon enough I am crying and crying. Then my Ipod battery dies. So there I am, sitting in Jersey waiting for someone to get a clue in the driver’s seat, left all alone with just my thoughts – not good. So very not good.

I am falling apart at the seams. I feel like I have been torn into pieces and they are exposed to the world. I feel as though I am trying to climb upward but there is a giant weight crushing me preventing me from accomplishing anything – anything at all. There is just too much going on.

My daughter is crying and won’t go to school. My lawyer won’t return my phone calls and I am sitting in the stupid car about to be very late to pick up my child. Maybe these things seems trite. They probably once did to me – if I just had one thing to worry about maybe it all wouldn’t feel so bad. But every single day something gets added to the top of the stress pile and nothing gets taken away.

I did decide one thing today while stuck in the car. I am going to get the children therapy. I think I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. That we would all be fine and not need any help. I can’t deny what is right in front of me anymore. I can’t wait till we move. I can’t pretend like we aren’t all falling apart a little more each day. I asked my son the other day if he would like to go talk to someone about daddy – or not talk about daddy and just say whatever he is feeling and thinking. My son, who doesn’t like change and doesn’t want to do anything but watch Sponge Bob, said maybe. This is a huge maybe to me – this is a yes mom what the hell are you waiting for maybe.

Now it is just a matter of finding the right person at the right time at the right place. No problem. I cried the entire trip today out of sheer frustration and anxiety. I just have so much to do and don’t know where to start. My friends keep offering, no wait, demanding to help. They want my to-do list so they can get things going. I can’t even write the to-do list down, it scares and overwhelms me. Maybe tomorrow.

I am going to move next month on my birthday. I decided it will be the worst birthday ever; I might as well inflict more torture on myself and leave my home and all my happy memories on this day. It doesn’t matter. I hate my birthday and won’t be getting a corny card from my husband this year telling me how much he loves me. I might as well distract myself from what I will be thinking about all day and just move. Maybe it will be a giant symbolic out with the old in with the new day. Goodbye horrible year 38 and welcome bright and better year 29. (not a typo – so not ever going to write or say that number out loud) At least I will have a great excuse to eat a giant chocolate cake by myself and consume too much alcohol.

Therapy is Wednesday. The timing is perfect. I can’t wait to walk in and announce to the group that I am falling apart, hate the world and am haunted by my husband. It should be a good night all around.

As I sat in the car, I did think a lot about my husband today. I wonder all the time how he could have gone through with this. How he could have walked into that garage knowing he would never walk out. I hate when I think about it and yet I am so obsessed with how he really could have possibly done such a thing to the children and I. The only grasp on his state of mind that I keep coming back to is that he really and truly believed we would all be better off without him. I find this so deeply ironic, it chills me. Because if he could only see us now. How awful we all are. How we are moving because he’s gone – how we are left with deep grieving scars because he is gone- how we are all falling apart because he is gone. It is almost funny how very wrong he was.

I wasn’t late to get my son. I got there with two minutes to spare. I didn’t crash my car into anyone for the sake of feeling better. I picked up the children, got homework done, made dinner and read them bedtime stories. I didn’t even yell tonight. I was a good mom. I am not packing tonight – again.

Instead I am going to get a needle and thread and sew up my unraveling seams. I need to be whole for my family tomorrow and don’t have any time for falling apart.

2 comments:

  1. Samantha,

    Your words are painfully inspiring to me as a mom. Thank you for sharing!

    Melida

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  2. Hi Samantha,
    If you want, I will look into art therapists in the area for your kids. I have also been dreaming and scheming about projects that would be appropriate for me (as neighbor and friend) to do with them. I would also like to do something with your close friends and you, if you like. Art therapy is great because, like writing, you can put your feelings outside of your body. Then you can hold what you've made. I would love to be able to give you and/or your kids a positive, therapeutic art experience.

    I'm so glad you are staying in the neighborhood!
    I'll keep my eye out for you.

    PS I had to use my 8 year old son's gmail address (geeez!) to post this comment. So, no, Oliver did not write this, but I know he thinks of you.

    Love,
    Elizabeth

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