I should be working. I should be doing school work. I did
read listen to my assigned novella today. Progress. I should be cleaning the house or decorating for Christmas. I should be making phone calls for doctors and dentist appointments since my tooth is killing me and Gav broke a bracket for his braces. I should be productive. I’m not feeling it. Instead, today my productivity consisted of making an unnecessary batch of six dozen chocolate chip cookies. At least I’ve only eaten two cookies. I wanted to eat all of them. Clearly, I’m in a funk.
Thanksgiving was surprisingly mundane–not the same gut-wrenching experience as last year. I didn’t feel anything. I just existed for a week in the house where I said goodbye to Noah. I laid on his bed a few times. I cried a few times. I drank considerably less wine than last year. We all just “were.”
Now, we are home. The tree is set up with nothing on it. I have a to-do list that rivals Santa’s. And instead of doing anything, I’m sitting under my fuzzy blanket with my puppy dog who desperately needs a bath, which is also on my list. Tomorrow, I start with a new counselor, which I am not looking forward to. My former counselor has gone off and retired, and it’s taken me until now to find someone new. I hope for her sake that she took the opportunity to get the download about my “story” from my retired counselor. I do not have the energy to explain everything all over again. On Wednesday, we will meet with Gavin and his counselor. Yes, he has gone back as well. Our life is a series of motions to go through, each one supposedly propelling us forward into some happier existence.
The fact is that it’s the holidays, we are still minus one, and life is decidedly sucky right now. Last night, we tried to start a new tradition of building a gingerbread house together. Only, it’s not really new, as Gavin pointed out. I used to buy one for each of the kids, and Noah would eat all of his building material before putting it together. We decorated the house, but it was more like a sad state of forced fun. Another motion to go through.
I have no pearls of wisdom to offer today, no shining rey of hope. I’m just a mom trying to get through a Monday, gathering enough mojo to make it to a parent meeting for wrestling where I get to put on a happy face for a group of strangers. I’ve gotten out of the habit of allowing myself a down day. I think I need one, or two, or ten. I think my body is trying to tell me to press pause and just to stop. No more motion. No more through. Just be for a minute. Some days, that’s the win.
So, I think I’ll just do that and be okay with it.