Thursday, May 12, 2022

Overcast, but light breaks through

I'm having such a moody week. My girl arrived last night, bringing her sunshine with her, and that helped. But the grayness inside me I can't quite seem to touch. I am so weary of myself, this physical and emotional body, but not of this life, which has so much sweetness at the center, so the darkness that encroaches, it must be chemical, no?  I did email a therapist friend at 3 AM on Tuesday morning, asking for a referral. Time to shrink this noisy brain again, soothe this turbulent internal sea, make peace with what is. Whatever.

But my daughter, what a bright light she is. She went into her new office for the first time today, outfit carefully chosen. "Do I look like I work in tech?" she asked her brother and me, modeling the white jeans, shell gray top, moto leather jacket, and fresh white kicks. I was reminded of when she was in kindergarten and picking out her own clothes. She would run into her brother's room with an item of clothing in each hand and chime, "Do these match?"

"You look great," I told her this morning. 

"You look like you're ready to kick ass and rule the world," her brother agreed from his leg-braced perch on the couch. 

"Cool," she said. "That's a good way to look on the first day of school." 

And darn if she doesn't already have a friend, a young woman she met in her first week of working remotely from Boston, who is coming in from Long Island today so they can meet in person. Her new workplace has a hybrid remote work system, and they don't seem to really care how often people come into the office. Before my daughter sailed out the door this morning, she and her new work friend were busy coordinating a subway station meet-up, so they could travel to southern Manhattan and walk into the office together. I think my girl is going to be okay.

And my son, he's going to be okay, too. He took himself to physical therapy across town and back yesterday, navigating on crutches all the way. He firmly refused my offer (demand) to accompany him, insisting he could do it on his own. When the man and I picked up our girl from the airport last night, she wanted to know how her brother was doing post surgery. 

"Is he very needy?" she asked. 

"Not at all," I told her, "he's the opposite of needy." 

"He cooked dinner for everyone last night," her dad added. 

Twas good, too, southwestern style chicken breasts with peppers and onions and caramelized roasted sweet potatoes. He's always been our "I do it" child.

Lying in bed last night, the lights out, I whispered to my husband, "We have two very capable children." "Hmmm," he murmured, drifting into sleep. I lay awake brooding for a long time, staring into the dark, taking some comfort in these two souls, both so dazzling to me, who chose us to be their parents. 


  1. Your fabulous and amazing children knew what they were doing when they chose you and the stork knew exactly where to find you! everyone had a plan looks like and carried out quite well!
    Sensitive, aware, caring folks carry a lot there days. Diversion is a good remedy and lobotomies are said to be helpful. I hope that you find a very good sensible "talk-to" person. I never have found a good one myself but then I live where the choices are but a handful.

  2. These are difficult times. Despite our wishing it to be different, the virus is still here. I'm more afraid of long covid and the heart issues that pop up 12 months later, than actually having covid. The daily risk assessments wear on a person. Then there is the noise and the tsunami of bat shit crazy coming from the right wing. It's relentless. It's hard, I hope you find someone you can talk to and I hope it helps. Your two kids really are points of light in the darkness.

  3. These are such sad times we are living in, a relentless barrage of bad news. So, we really have to find the balance in the ways that lift our spirits as high as the sky. Your two sweet and beautiful children add their light to the world. Their presence makes me happy, 3000 miles away. I hope you find someone to talk with who will help you navigate through these times. Please take care there.

  4. I admire you so much for reaching out for a therapist recommendation. I know it would not hurt me to see someone but there's part of me (the depressed part?) that thinks, "Oh, I am old. I'm not going to change. Suck it up, buttercup." And that helps nothing. Meanwhile, I bite my tongue bloody every night in my sleep.
    But our children- they keep us en-light-ened, don't they? Our beautiful, amazing children.

  5. I think we have a national depression in the US. Makes sense, though, doesn't it? You do have bright lights in your son and daughter and you and the man had something to do with the people they became.

  6. What a beautiful picture of your children up there.

  7. Very often it is chemical, yes, so I am glad you reached out and wish you well in finding a sympatico soul to give you a hand. Your children are indeed capable, and -- not to take away their hard work and intrinsic personalities -- their character has a lot to do with how they were raised. I love that photo, and also the mental image of your daughter trusting her brother with her wardrobe choices, both then and now :)

  8. Today, finding balance is more than difficult. We live in constant turmoil. No wonder we feel burnt out and tired. Getting some help is the proactive and right thing to do. I hope you feel better soon. Our adult children are always upper-most in our world and you by all definitions have two wonderful, loving, kind and very capable children. I believe we can consider ourselves blessed.

  9. It's a stressful scary time in many ways, so I understand the creeping darkness. I'm glad you're able to take solace and pleasure in your family life, and in seeing your very capable kids take on the world.

  10. I've been feeling blue lately - like the best parts of my life have already happened. Without my children, I would be very sad indeed.
    I love that photo of your children! They sound like wonderful people!

  11. Just the act of asking for professional help for the grayness can do wonders. There is a lingering life-long sadness, a grayness, inside me that has benefitted from talking over the last 5 years (intermittently now) with a well-trained compassionate therapist who determined that my grayness was not due to a chemical imbalance but due to complicated grief related to a pattern of intergenerational trauma. I had been carrying the unexpressed grief of my ancestors throughout my life. A sacred grief. Through therapy and support groups, I've been able to express that grief in ways my ancestors never could. The grayness is a smaller and smaller part of me and no longer debilitating. Sending love to you as you seek inner peace.

    Yes indeed. They wisely chose you and your beloved man.

    1. This is so lovely AM. It made me think of my own ancestors and all of the things they went through, patterns repeating themselves through the generations.

  12. Yes. Great, isn't it. New white shoes, though. That is some confidence.

  13. Depression is a bitch. It sucks the life out of life. Sending hugs and love and I hope you kick the black dog to the curb.

  14. I love that last line -- have spent many a night/morning brooding but acknowledging the obvious. I'm sorry you're feeling blue. The older we get, the harder it is to shake the blues -- at least for me.

  15. Good for you forgetting the referral. Your children are capable because you taught them how to be so.