Ah so!

I have been trying to figure out the source of my deep fatigue and general somberness of late. When I finally recognized it I felt somewhat stupid: grief. I am finally grieving all the losses: two long-term friendships, my grandmother, our condo, our savings, Aaron's job, nearby family, work that I am good at, the dream of a house of our own, time to read, having a car to use, 8 hours of sleep per night. The list goes on, from the important to the petty.

What brought it to the fore was a comment from Father Tom. As we were helping him move last weekend to his new digs, someone again commented on how well he was handling cancer, his impending surgery and the end of his career. He said "I am doing what I would advise any of my parishioners to do under these circumstances: grieving." And there I recognized a kindred spirit.

Everything I have read about grief supports that it is not linear, there is no time line to be done with it. Heck, I've taught many workshops on working through adverse change! I find myself coping in ways I don't recommend --like self medicating with cheese croissants or dumb TV. Yet I am reminded of that James Barrie quote "Be kinder than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle."

Get Yourself Some Protection

Talking about time, that is. Trying to work from home while preventing the 14 month-old from climbing the bookcases means no paying work has gotten done. I know the adage "you need to spend money to make money" but you need to have money in order to spend money to get protected time to work.

Take The Weather With You

This week we had unseasonably warm temperatures in the Bay Area until last night. More importantly, we had a few warm evenings. What a complete treat to walk outside with the family without need of a jacket! Does wonders for the mental attitude.

I've been reading about Just-in-time vs Just-in-case planning. The argument is that Just-in-case planning leads to excess and unhappiness, while Just-in-time planning is an act of faith that leads to abundance. I haven't figured out how it is any different from being the grasshopper in the old fable, but apparently the ants were just being cynical.

Still plugging away at the job search, one foot in front of the other.

One Door Closes

We got some sad news this week: Father Tom, the wonderful priest who married us and baptized Olivia, is retiring abruptly. He has thyroid cancer and will have his voice box removed at the end of the month, ending his career.

I missed my San Francisco church deeply when I was in CT and was thrilled that Olivia could have her christening performed by Father Tom. I really couldn't see it happening anywhere else. And without Father Tom I never would have gotten married in a Catholic church; it would have been too out of alignment for us.

Our little church is stressing hard about this news. We are a unique community, one that is not easily duplicated. We will be dwelling in ambiguity for a few months as a new priest will not arrive on a permanent basis until July.

The interesting thing in all this is noting Father Tom's response to his situation. He is showing a remarkable calm and grace. His homily today was replaced by his very cogent, unselfpitying yet funny, breaking of the news. Since it was the second week of Easter he ran around later in the service sprinkling us with water, wearing a joyful cheeky smile. We all commented amongst ourselves that, if any of us confronts a similar fate, we don't believe we'd do so with his equanimity. I have come unglued with less harsh news. I feel very fortunate to have his thoughtful, heartful example.

The Things They Left Behind

It's been interesting to note, out of everything we have in storage, what I actually miss. Our toaster for one. As one who self medicates with tea and toast, life without toast is grim indeed. I also miss my label maker, a serrated knife, and a particular jar opener that I used regularly.

It would be nice to have use of our other stuff: the furniture and books, Olivia's toys and our pillows, but I don't miss them as acutely.

Sprung

Easter is my favorite holiday and yesterday was a sweet day. I realized last night that I had not bitten the ears off a chocolate bunny, but no matter. Olivia got to see an egg hunt (she was too small to really participate -- but watch out next year!)and we went to a tea house afterward with some friends. Sunny and warm day, Sadie got to frolic, all-in-all a nice outing.

Today the babysitter couldn't make it -- again. I've had a project that I haven't been able to start yet for lack of protected time and I am getting anxious. It seems that with time it's always a case of robbing Peter to pay Paul.

Thank you to all the folks who have sent messages of encouragement. Our little ship has not completely foundered, we've been employing some dead reckoning these last months and stayed buoyed by your shout outs from the ether.

Are you there calm? It's me, Justine

My hat's off to mothers everywhere; it's amazing to me that the human race has continued this long. After my 15 hours of travel with a 13 month old (just to get across the country! I didn't even go to Asia!) I was ready to give myself cement shoes and jump off a pier. Olivia fussed and hollered for our entire two-hour layover in Atlanta and slept about 40 minutes the whole day. Got to SFO where, thank God, Aaron was waiting with a luggage cart, went to San Mateo to pick up our dog, and arrived home to an apartment with no milk or bread or supper items. Promptly turned into Medusa.

Today was the usual catch-up from having been away for 8 days: laundry, grocery shopping, returning calls, etc. In the midst of this, I noticed the Medusa head reappearing. About 10 years ago I first noticed this same phenomenon in several of my friends after they had married and had children. They went from being funny, relaxed, generous women to brittle and angry harpies. I have joined this club and have no better idea of how to handle it then when I was on the outside looking in.

The economy seems to be am all-purpose scapegoat for all that is not going well, a catch-all explanation for the slipping of niceties, a barometer of the times. But I have this nagging suspicion that the economy has nothing to do with why my job search is going so poorly, why I feel like it is all out of control, why I worry and fret and break so often.

I once read that timely retreat is one of the skills of the warrior, yet I have no idea how to withdraw: there are too many battle fronts and no eye of the storm to gather my thoughts.

This week away was spent in CT with my lovely family. While I was there I visited the storage locker where all our things are stored. Opening the door to it I was struck with a wave of sadness: here was the physical embodiment of our circumstance. Everything boxed up, waiting for use. We don't have a place for our things to go and can't afford to send it to ourselves anyway. So they sit in limbo too. I gathered up some shoes and clothes to mail to CA and instantly second guessed myself. Do I really need work clothes? Should I see what it would cost to ship Olivia’s crib? What about the iron, toaster and vacuum cleaner? We’ll need those in a new place and I hate to repurchase them.

While Olivia and I were away Aaron was back in SF working and getting our taxes done (still!). We have had a few appointments with our accountant and it gets worse every time we talk to them. Unemployment from CA is taxable in CT. The foreclosure amount is taxable. And on it went. Our conversations with each other were low energy and regularly cut off by the call dropping or some local exigency.

My Dad turned 70 last week, which was the impetus for the trip, and my step-mom had a very nice dinner celebration for him. Olivia was the cutest thing you ever saw in her turquoise party dress. She chatted it up with about half the restaurant and made special friends with the owner. Everyone commented on what a happy kid she is.

That night and throughout the week I felt harried and underslept. I wasn't the patient mom I would like to be or the loving daughter, sister, niece. I was the same humorless, tired, joyless and impatient person I am in San Francisco and who I occasionally see in my daughter's eyes. She still gestures to me to pick her up. And I do, and we hug, and I try again.