I Wish

I wish my brain did not fill in the frightful details like this.

I wish I was a woman who cared deeply about shoes and concealer.

These sentences taken from the book "Little Bee" by Chris Cleave, a fabulous novel that my book club read and discussed on Sunday night, jumped right off the page at me.

The words are spoken by Sarah, one of the book's main characters, who is struggling with an incredibly complex situation in her life resulting from a decision made during a catastrophic incident that occurred in her past. One layer of the ripple effect of this event is sitting at her kitchen table calling up the awful details of that very scene which was, in effect, the boulder heaved in the waters of her existence.

At the beginning of our discussion I grabbed my book, turned to this page, read those sentences to my friends who all know me well and said, ~ My God, this is ME!

I don't WANT to be the one who gets up at 4:30am, because once I'm awakened, my mind begins to dwell on and attempt to spin the 53 potential scenarios of the hours that lie ahead. I'm supposed to be the one living in the moment, and I really truly do... often ... but not in the wee hours.

My life would be so much easier if I was the type of girl who sat at the edge of her seat, waiting to see who Oprah's next guest was going to be. I could rest because I'd know that they'd introduce the person, name the problem, analyze and then solve it all within the hour, with the added bonus of the surprise gift under the chair. Or Dr. Phil! My gosh, I could sign up to get his newsletter online so I could be a step ahead and receive sage advice about ~ Bad Birthday or Reunion? or Are You Living a Parenting Nightmare? (If he only knew!)

I would be so much better off if I could just worry a little more about the latest trends, because I could then get absorbed in Glamour and Cosmo, or look on the Internet to see the fashions the stars are wearing. I'd carefully select the colors to complement my skin tone, (I'm a winter. I do know that much.) plan my unlimited style options for walking the dog and grocery shopping, and then go to Target (I'm cheap!) and put together "the look".
Then, maybe I could quiet my mind.

But NO. I have always been one to live with a passionate enthusiasm for things that have a bit more meat to them ~ my employment situations, coaching volleyball, caring for my child with cancer...
I'm always ALL IN.
There is typically no halfway for me. Whether the situation calls for me to dive in head first or jump in with both feet, I go IN.
My heart follows.

I find I'm becoming much more aware, and in certain cases pretty envious, of people who can remain emotionally detached from a situation. If something falls through, they can simply say,"WOW, BUMMER!", and then they move on and grab a pizza out of the freezer for dinner, turn on some mindless TV show and then lay their head on the pillow at night and sleep blissfully for a full eight hours. How does that happen? Is that an innate characteristic or a learned response? Is there some DNA floating in their system that I don't have in my genetic make-up? Is there a switch, that I could access when I find myself on the edge of emotional overload about a matter, that would allow me to just let go? I need the instruction booklet - my own personal owner's manual. I think my parents forgot to leave it with me when they passed away. They did leave some lovely photos and the "official cake plate" shown with me below, that you can also see in the posts HERE and HERE with Erin. That thing has sure seen some great miles and smiles.

Part of my problem is that I'm the product of past responsibilities ~ mothering four children (and I'm NOT a hover-mother by any stretch) and jobs that have always required a great deal of multi-tasking and detail orientation. And I was good at them! I only forgot Matt one time (left him at home when we all went to the park - he survived), didn't lose anyone else's child when I worked in the school office (actually could usually tell you the homeroom number of each student) and never once sent a team to the wrong school on the wrong day in my many years as Athletic Director.

I have a high energy level and at any given time I have, on average, 20 things floating around in my head. I like to be busy and have places to go and things to do, and for nearly thirty years (Yes Chris, it's coming soon!) I've been responsible for someone other than myself. Now, for the first time in that many years, I can go out for the day and no one needs me. (Dave is self-sufficient and Keenan is a well-trained dog with an adult-sized bladder.) I have NO idea what to do with all this freedom yet! Absolutely no clue. Most of the time I hate it!

My senses were kicked up exponentially when Erin got sick. I teetered on the edge of a cliff for three years while she was living with cancer. Each phone call concerning a scan result had the power to determine the next path my life took ~ whether we could continue on the planned course or we were forced to chart a detour route because we slammed into another road block. This unnerving uncertainty was a part of my existence every three months for three years, LONG years when you look at them in Central Scan Time. I'm having trouble coming down from that urgency level. I'm still waiting for the phone to ring, with the person on the other end of the line carrying the power to direct my next course.

Now, I'm taking baby steps into the next chapter of my life, to a future without Erin. I'm trying so hard to pave the path before me so that it reflects the depth to which she has impacted my life, the way this cancer world has now become a part of me. I want to harness this energy, and the truly-sensible thoughts swimming around in my head, and focus on smoothing the path for the so-many others who are teetering on their own personal cliffs.


I sometimes wish I could just work at Pottery Barn, come home and have dinner with Dave, walk the dog and call it a day ~ and be satisfied with the fullness of it when I lay my head down to sleep.
But it's just not me.

And concealer doesn't truly hide anything for long. It only creates a mask to wash off at night. And when I look at my reflection at the end of that long day, I can still see what I'd attempted to conceal ~ those furrows I've rightfully earned by staying up nights worrying and crying about everything I've held dear to my heart, those creases around my mouth etched by the all the wonderful times I've smiled and laughed at the joyful moments, and my personal favorites - the crows feet that spread from the corners of my eyes from squinting due to the light of the sun's rays warming me while enjoying the beauty of the great outdoors.



Oh, and by the way,
I prefer to go without shoes.