Earlier today, I stood in the shower and cried.  I even cry trying to type this.  It is difficult.  Some of you who know me may think, when is this girl going to get a grip…  oh wait, I think that was me saying that.  I just know I created this space to make myself be vulnerable and real in the moment, good or bad, because you know, maybe one of you cried in the shower this morning too.

I had breakfast with Honey B this morning (me and my nicknames, bless his heart, my kids are probably gagging) but anyway.  He dropped me back off at my house and it was all smiles, a joke or two, and my usual wave goodbye from the porch with a smile, all the while a geyser forming.  The calm before the storm.

Things are so good so what the heck….

Friday night was wonderful, good conversation at T’s Pub (what B named my backyard), then to B’s Bar & Grill (what he named his back deck) – wait, he has a thing with nicknames too!  But we listened to music, ate snacks, laughed and it was a simple and special Friday night.  But at breakfast this morning, I could feel the stress in my body building like a tiny geyser, my mind racing, so much to do, so much to think about, that damn endless list.  Why can’t I turn off this thing that robs the moments.  Mid-morning, I decided to jump in the shower in hopes it would get my battery charged for the day or clear my head, and as I stood there under the warm water, the geyser erupted and I sobbed.  I’d been here before… I wondered how I could think these 1,000 thoughts all at one time.

The guilt…  

I was taught worrying was wrong so I feel guilty for worrying which just fuels the stress.  How can I be stressed when I have food to eat, more business than I can do, an amazing family, and more good friends than I deserve.  I don’t have cancer or Alzheimers to my knowledge.  Do I have a right to be overwhelmed?  Does life being good mean I can’t feel this way?  My brain says it does, my heart says what does he know.  No matter the answer, I just know when you’re going through our own stuff, it can feel so heavy to you.  I stood there, water pouring, mind racing, doctors appointments I need but I have no insurance, neverending bills that need to be paid, tuition, college apartment, utilities, a painful cellphone bill,  car payment, insurance, business supplies. just to name a few… nothing no one else has, right?  Then I walk through the house, rooms needing work I can’t afford, rooms needing renovations, it’s overwhelming. I just shut the doors as if that solves it.  And the garage ~ the metaphor for my last few years, a story for another day.

My people…

I stand there worrying about my son getting through college with a new son to raise while struggling to figure out what he wants to be when he grows up.  Saying that out loud makes me cry… so thankful for my grandson but doesn’t every Mama want their child’s road to be simple and clear?  I worry about my grandson, the little 15 pounder that owns my heart, he just has to be okay.  My Dad, my rock, he can’t ever not be okay or I can’t function.  My girls, are they making ends meet, finding love, are they happy. And crazy as it sounds, I worry about the father of my children. I sincerely want him to be happy and well in every way.  It’s who I am and I will always care about him, he was a part of my life for 30 years, and he is the rock for our children so he needs to be okay.  And close friends going through things I want to fix and I can’t, they are on my mind constantly.

B…  

And then there’s B, Crazy Boy, my light, my happy, my warm blanket.  I worry about him, his son, the stress of it all, the new grandbaby coming, but B says he’s okay. Most days now, I think he’s almost healed from losing the love of his life 2 1/2 years ago but there are little signs that may always exist otherwise.  Can you ever really get over something like that?  Her purse sits in the kitchen in the same spot she left it the last day she came home, the day she came home to wait for Hospice.  It speaks volumes.  B says it will be the hardest thing left to move, more so than pictures on the wall, and I can only imagine. It has become a fixture in the room that we don’t talk about as it sits there beside her books she was reading those last weeks. I loved her so much that it’s hard…  but yes, it also reminds me I’m in her kitchen, in her house, not that she wouldn’t want me there, I have no doubt now she would.  It’s just simply a reminder that this is her space, and in my crazy mind, that maybe I won’t ever be quite enough no matter how much B reassures me that I am. I know I can be never be the person she was anyway whether in B’s life or not.

It’s kind of ironic too that when Mom passed away just before Donna, her purse hung by the back door, and it was the hardest thing we had to move.  The power of such a little thing.

I crumble…

Even aside from B, I have days I don’t feel ‘enough’ for anyone, even myself.  I beat myself for not being a good enough Mom, for failing at marriage, for not doing enough for Dad or Colton, or having to turn away clients.  That list is endless too, so many lists.  I’m all smiley and sunshine-y outside and then I get inside my four walls or crawl in my bed or in that darn shower and without warning, I crumble… sometimes for what feels like no reason at all, sometimes for reasons too many to count, the flood of all of it hits in an instant and I’m not prepared.  Today was one of those days.  

I don’t know why I’m even sharing this or if anyone can relate to just the heaviness that can come at the drop of a hat without warning.  If you can, I wish I could help carry yours for you.  And I so wish the warm water could wash it all down the drain… if only it could be that simple.