It's Been Brutal- There Were Many Tears But I Think I'll Make It- I Hope

I haven't been wanting to post. I have been struggling with the changes here. The way I feel ripped wide open and lost and spun from all the newness.

My first (and, hopefully, only) venture as a single parent has been burly and I am trying to catch myself and stand up. I keep promising people I am far more balanced than I appear but how are they to know that?
There were a myriad of incidents this week that led smoothly into a culmination of craziness, to the brink of insanity. I was seriously tempted to just step off and have myself a good long nervous breakdown but, somehow, I managed to step back- I don't remember doing it but I did.

Yesterday was the worst- that was the culmination- just days after that doozy of a new moon and on the brink of one of my favorite holidays- Mabon, the Autumn Equinox.

I actually thought, "Screw this crap! I'm done, this was a huge mistake! This is the WRONG thing to do! What was I thinking? All my careful planning and this sucks!"

I called my darling husband and ranted, cried and sobbed harder than I have in a good 8 or 9 years about how I wasn't going to make it through, how I needed to lie down and take a long rest. How I was tired of battling children who each took a different path- all of them seemingly away from household chores and their mother's requests for assistance. How I was cold and it wasn't even winter and we have no heat. How I feel weak and hideously lost in the face of this potent aloneness that haunts my days and evenings.

I am not alone with my children but I am overwhelmed by the responsibility of being their sole care provider. I find myself shying away from the conflicts and the energy needed to keep them going. This move was magical. This wish for a house whose mortgage equaled a car payment every month- something that people shook their heads at- and then to find that- fulfill that wish and be faced with the reality of the dream. Surely I would not follow this long strange path away from financial security and warmer climates and all that is familiar only to lose my mind to solitude and loneliness. Surely that can't be the destiny of this epic trek.
But it felt that way. It felt like the worst mistake ever- something I couldn't take back and remedy. Something that tore our lovely family apart, separating soul mates, children and their father- all for money. The money is the key. How will we survive if we can't pay? That is what it keeps breaking down to.

How will we do this? And my damn earth sign eats away at my trust in the universe until it is tattered and torn and the panic starts.

So, the panic took me- on a long and wild ride that has left me exhausted.

I was so upset that I was certain that skipping the giant organic festival this weekend that draws people from all over, was the right decision. Why would I go? I needed to find a job- My art wasn't selling. Surely I must find something. Now. A fair is not necessary, it's not a need.

But it was. A need, that is.

I woke, got the children off to school and went to the fair. I drove and drove and then I was there. I stepped out and fought hard not to cry (there've been far too many tears in the last week) and so I walked. I walked past the farmer's market where I stopped for potted rosemary and sage- a splurge I assured myself was worth the medicine I can make from those two plants. I walked past the horse drawn carriages and the musicians, past the amazing organic food wafting at me beckoning me to come and eat, past the many wool vendors and past the artists.

I stopped, I visited-- and suddenly I realized how not alone I am. These artists, these brialliantly beautiful tree hugging, art making, wool spinning, yarn knitting, organic food growing, natural food cooking, clothing making, dirt loving, nature loving people-- these were my people. The ones that inspire me to be better and more evolved. The ones whose houses smell like a co-op and nag champa or just nature and drying herbs and brown rice. These are the people who grow and make their own medicine. These are my definition of hippie-- and I could suddenly breathe.

So far from my beloved city, the place of my familiar, I found familiar. I walked in, and among, familiar-- and I smiled (and tried not to cry).

As hard as this is turning out to be, I am beginning to believe again that this will be worth it. That we are, in fact, headed towards the light that will bouy our spirits up through the days, months and years and that we will find our joy- even if it sometimes seems that this road is impassable. That in the face of the darkness, we will always find the light- and ever evolve towards it, spiraling upwards in our ascent.

Gratitude Friday

It's Gratitude Friday and it has been one tough week- thus the reason that there aren't a lot of posts (or any) from this week-- so this is a hard won list. What's on your list?

I am grateful for:

*A strong mother who is a positive and forceful guide and inspiration to me

*Family close enough to drop in for a stay

*Aunts with fantastic energy and adventurist spirits

*The ridiculous cuteness of baby creatures

*Children who wake up every day trying to do better

*Dogs who make me smile and adore the hell out of me- and I them

*The bravery my son shows

*The enthusiasm my eldest daughter shows on the soccer field 

*The voracious reading my littlest does

*The special animal connection that third child of mine has and the way she smiles and laughs

*A husband who stays calm in the face of my crazy phones calls and emails when things fall apart

*My couch

*The sunshine

*Weather just cold enough that I can snuggle under duvets at night

*Autumn in the air

*A laundromat 10 minutes away

*A fridge that seems to have repaired itself at least for the present

*Fresh food from friendly neighbors

The View Up Here

The children started school and I was suddenly surrounded by quiet. I haven't ever had that experience- the solitude so often experienced by parents when children shuffle off to school hasn't ever been in my scope of experience.

It has been working at the children's school, one too young for school and/or homeschooling- never me, just me, alone. What a concept. The dogs were here of course- draping their large and small bodies all over the house where ever the sun hit the floor through those many windows. I didn't know what to do. I honestly didn't.

There were so many things I could do- call my mother, workout, clean up, do laundry, bake, felt, walk the dogs, choose paints, go grab those groceries we ran out of- so many options. Of course we had the appointment to have the furnace serviced to prep for those cold months headed our way. So that's what happened- the furnace got up and running (not that it is needed quite yet) and then I walked over to see a neighbor. It was on the way home that I crossed the bridge and looked down at the water below. 

It was flowing slowly (it's still low) and I stopped to watch the fish and the rocks below. The view was amazing and all I could think was "Is this real? Is this what a day alone is like- me, my dogs and the river? Wow."
Maybe I'll get the hang of this soon- or maybe I will flounder a bit and stop to watch the river flow and the leaves turn and fall to earth. We shall see but the view is not to be missed.

The Bad Days

As much as I would have everyone think it is all hunky-dory over here, it would be a lie. There is always a hard side- a difficult day or week- or month.
I ran into my first really hard days here- I missed my friends and community. I just thought "What have I done?! What was I thinking?!" I was terrified. I had to start out new and I'm not getting any younger and I have these amazing children to take care of and I was overwhelmed and scared of anything and everything that could go wrong.

My heart hurt with it. I was full of dread and I called my beloved and told him and he said, "I know it will be fine. It will. There is a reason for all of this." And he was comforting and gentle and kind and I got off the phone and cried- long and hard. Unconvinced and tired from my grief and fear.
It was a hard week to work through. That fear of the unknown- the uncontrolled- the fact that control is an illusion to begin with. All of this tore at me. And then, yesterday, I felt a shifting and had the sudden drive to pull the eiderdowns out and prepare them- even though it was 80 outside. I woke up to 59 degrees in my room- the old windows thrown wide for the fresh night air and I was grateful for the blankets as were the children who were hunkered down with the dogs and cat. In my lost place I had followed an intuition in this new place that told me to pull those warm things out. It didn't make sense to me but I followed it.

It was the first day that felt like autumn was moving in and I had to smile at that lift in the air- that little piece of energy that makes you think that if you turn in just the right direction and close your eyes and lean into that wind a little bit you just might take flight. Pure magic. And the fear, it will ebb and flow and I will learn how to let it go and live with it and trust the deep places that tell me to be patient- that tell me to love the now in everything.