Blank Space

Summer break is here, and for the first time ever, this teacher has been dreading it for months. I knew that I would struggle being at home. I knew that I would torment myself with memories of his last weeks. I knew that I would fight bitterness and anger and resentment and all those ugly emotions that if I’m not real careful, will take root in my heart and wreak even more havoc and devastation later on. I knew that Joseph would worry about me. I knew that I would have guilt about him worrying about me…just one more thing added onto his plate that he doesn’t deserve to deal with. I knew that Caroline would need me to be present for her and to keep her busy. I also knew how much I wouldn’t want to do anything remotely fun or engaging with her. I knew that wasn’t fair to her. I knew that I would feel guilt over not being a good Mama when she has been through so much and deserves so much more than I am currently capable of giving.

All these emotions that I knew would come are now my reality since summer break is here and I’ve had 3 weeks at home for them to settle in. It sucks beyond anything I can describe. I don’t want this blog to be a pity party for myself, but if I’m being real honest, it makes me feel like a hypocrite to constantly have people lauding me for my strength and perseverance. I feel like a fraud because I am not strong. I am very, very weak and barely finding the strength to get out of the bed. Just want to be real on here tonight, because if you can see me right this very minute, you’d see a mother who has most certainly NOT managed to fake her way through another day. You’d see a hot mess who hasn’t showered, has eyes that are so swollen from crying they are mere slits, and who is currently on day 3 of wearing the same shirt. We won’t even talk about what my hair looks like.

I crave sleep now…it is blissful oblivion when I manage to finally shut my eyes. Dreams are elusive most nights. I think my brain handles all the stimulation it can take during the day so even dreams aren’t allowed to infiltrate my mind, which is perfectly fine by me. I slept all night, got out of bed just to move to the couch to sleep some more, just to move back to the bedroom to lie in the bed for over 3 hours just staring at the wall. I was supposed to take Caroline to a birthday party today, but that would have required me to get up and drive 15 mins. down the road. Just didn’t have it in me.

Productivity isn’t really my forte these days. I can’t muster the motivation to do anything. Nothing seems to really matter. I tried to wash dishes the other day and even that proved to be too much…wound up leaving half of them in the soapy water and just walked away. There’s laundry from two weeks ago still sitting in the basket at the base of our bed. I started putting it away and then just gave up. The fridge needs cleaning out. I thought I could maybe do just one shelf a day (I mean, come on, who can’t do a shelf a DAY?), but the same dried up fruit blob that is stuck on the second shelf is still there today. I think it may be cherry juice. Or strawberry jam. Who knows. I don’t even care.

Today I kind of threw in the white towel of surrender and said screw it. I didn’t even attempt to pep myself up and make a to-do list in my head (because just writing one on paper is again, more effort than I’m willing to exert). I just gave myself permission to be blank. To feel what I feel and to just let everything else go.

In this blank space that I allowed myself today, I found comfort in snuggling with Carter’s baby blue faded blanket that he called Red Spot. I held it to my face, curled up to it, and cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. Then I stared at the blinds in our bedroom and counted the slats. The sun was peeking through at certain intervals, so to change things up, I started counting slats up to each burst of light. I counted 14, 10, and then 11. I did that repeatedly until the sunlight shifted and poked through at different intervals. Then I started counting again.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10…did you know that repetition can foster a sense of calm? I’ve often wondered how people can work in factories doing the same monotonous task over and over and over without going crazy. I think I get it now. At this stage of my life, I think I would be awesome at screwing tops on toothpaste. They probably have robots that do that now, but if not, then I could be great at it assuming that my stupid joints would let me.

Around 5:30 Joseph came into the bedroom and asked if I was going to church or going to rest. When I said that I was going to rest, he leaned over and kissed me and closed the curtains to darken the room. He knew that I wasn’t going to rest. Hell, I’ve done nothing but sleep all day, but he didn’t pressure me to get up. He just let me be. He came back periodically to check on me as he was dressing, but I didn’t have the energy to assure him that I was OK…that I wasn’t mad at him, that he wasn’t getting on my nerves, that my blank space time had nothing to do with him…I just kept staring at the wall.

He made sure to tell me before he left “I don’t need you to be strong, but I do need YOU.” Then he made it a point to tell me that he loved me before shutting the door. He must not have heard me say it back, because he called my name and made me look him in the eyes before telling me again. He wanted me to know before leaving our house that I was needed and loved.

What a sad, bitter commentary on my life that my own husband fears that I might question my worth so much and forget that I am loved to the point where I may do something stupid. I say stupid because, for me, that would be the most stupid and asinine thing I could ever do to him.

I will never say that about Carter. My boy didn’t do something stupid. I don’t understand it and will be tormented by his actions until I draw my final breath, but it wasn’t a stupid act. Nor was it selfish. For some people who die by suicide, yes…but not Carter. It was a means to end his pain, and I will never judge him for that. Not ever.

I decided to get up after Joseph and Caroline went to church to wander around the house and see what I could do to say that I actually did something today. I still haven’t decided what that is…it’s all so overwhelming. I did, however, see my laptop on the kitchen table, so before I could overthink it, I just grabbed it and took it on my back porch and decided to just write. It’s something I can do that frees some of the mess and clutter that is in my mind…even on my “blank space” days when all I am trying to do is just breathe through the pain and count window slats, I’m amazed at how the enemy tries to sneak in and cut me to my core as he penetrates my mind with garbage. So much garbage and nonsense.

So I’m getting on here and reminding folks that I know my worth and I know that I am loved by so many. I KNOW that. I also want to show people who may be wondering how I’m “holding it all together” that I’m really not holding much of anything. I still have mail that was sent my way 2 weeks ago that I haven’t opened. Just opening cards and reading such well-meaning and thoughtful words is too much some days. I can’t handle it. I have texts and FB messages that I haven’t opened, either. Sometimes I just delete them without reading the first word, which I know sounds like such a BRAT. I know.

Some days I just need blank space. That’s all. I’ll get motivation and drive back. My house will be clean again at some point. I hope to lose the weight I’ve gained this year. Maybe my body will once again resemble the old me. But for right now, today, I can’t worry about any of that. What I CAN do is count window slats and snuggle up to the blanket that gave my sweet Carter such comfort.  And that’s how I’ll get through another day.