How do I hate thee, let me count the ways

Nothing drives me much crazier than cleaning up someone else's mess. I know, I have kids, it comes as part of the package, but it still makes me nuts. I accept consequences for my own actions, my own messes, and know that if I screw it up I must clean it up. I am working so hard right now to get my kids through this, to get my mother through this, to get the family through this in tact with whats left of our sanity in tact. I DID NOT make this mess. This is not my fault, and yet, as usual here I am with the Lysol in one hand and the brush in the other trying to set everything to rights again. WHY exactly is this my job again? Mostly cause no one else is able t0 step up and do it. I have to, or we'll fall apart. My mom has become ten years older since the fire. she's forgetful; and a little doddering. Not that she sees it of course. I do everything for everyone, and yet it never seems to get any better. Spray and scrub and the mess spreads further. There are days I want to throw my hands up and walk away from all of this, and tell everyone they are on their own. I won't of course. What about me? As I move along, cleaning up the mess dropped by others, I leave my own trail of debris behind me. I must clean that as well. Since I make little progress I feel like I never actually get anywhere. Am I whining again? Maybe. I'm OK with that. I think that's part of the purpose this blog serves. If no one else is listening, this space is a place that is listening. I'm losing control. No I never had control of this. It spun wildly away from me the moment the first spark touched down unseen in the dark of my bedroom. I have discarded most of the what if's, as I can see they are useless and a waste of energy. All the wishing in the world can't unbake this. Reality is very real, and not likely to change any time soon. I'm going away for a weekend in Oct, and already I'm made to feel guilty that I'm leaving. I need a break and no one sees how thin I've been stretched recently. everyone has gotten a break, in some cases for weeks at a time, except for me. Mom thinks I should take the boys. Ummm, no. This is my time and I'm to claim it as I'm due. I can't take care of anyone else if I don't take care of me. Maybe they will appreciate me a little more when I get back .

an interesting twist.

Look at my post with the pictures of the rainbows. Then go back an reread the first post i ever did, and look at the first picture I included. I swear it was not intentional. Fascinating. Part of me would like to see as some kind of divine message, but the realistic side of me knows its coincidence. The other side speaks up again, saying there is no such thing as coincidence. Most I just say, well, would you look at that.

why why why why

Why did this happen? I have asked that question a 1000 times and yet the answer eludes me. Why? I am a Virgo, and as such I love to analyze things until I feel I completely understand it. I truly believe what doesn't kill me will only make me stronger. Frankly, I have been through worse. That was an interesting thought that occur ed to me last night. This is bad, real tough. But I have been through much worse. This is only the physical, the material that was damaged. I have waded through much darker places and always managed, somehow to come out the other side one way or another. I guess I'm starting to think maybe we will with this too. If I can get through some of the places I have been, including the destruction of a marriage among other things, this too shall pass. Interestingly enough, Patrick told me the other day he feels like he's the only one who is not over this. I almost laughed. I explained to him that even though it may seem like the rest of the family has not been as affected as he was, that grownups just don't show things the way kids do. I assured him I was no way over this yet. I can only hope I'm doing this right, if there is a right way. Maybe any way that gets you through it is all right, as long as you don't hurt anyone else in the process.

I was coming out of Target tonight, my mind racing with the information of both a therapist and a psychiatrist and a son who is falling deeper and deeper into the depths of PTSD. I feel like I'm losing my son little by little, piece by piece and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Both professionals agree there's a problem and its in the process of being addressed. All I know is I want my kid back the way he used to be. Anyway, I was coming out of Target, and the pictures above represent what I saw in the parking lot. I stopped, stared for a full couple of minutes, unable to tear my eyes away. I started to think about rainbows, and what they once represented in our biblical history. I have always thought a rainbow was a sign from God, because in order to see one, the circumstances have to be exactly right. There almost has to be a divine hand involved to see something so perfect, so fleeting. Once upon a time a rainbow represented a promise to us from God. I think it still does. This experience with the fire has rocked my faith like nothing before it, and I find myself questioning over and over why God had chose my family to give this to. I sat and looked at the rainbow, surprised to feel tears prick the backs of my eyes. I have been angry, very very angry for a while now. I looked and looked at this visual in front of me and found myself wondering if this was meant for me. This was followed with thinking how selfish this kind of thinking was, like this kind of creation could possibly be just for me. Yeah right. I wondered again, was God trying to get me a message? Was He trying to tell me, remind me that He is still here, and that I have not been left alone in this wilderness? I am not ready yet to begin the conversation with Him, not just yet, but maybe I needed a reminder that with all this stress and all this self doubt I have been wading through, this could possibly serve as reminder that its dark right now but I'm heading in the right direction. I am feeling very lost, but maybe I've at least got my feet on the right path.

to love another person

Is to see the face of God. This is the last line in Les Mis,which I have been listening to obesssively rhis week. I find the saga of loss and suffering comforting somehow.This story is so dark. And yet the characters find their redemption in the end. This gives me hope there could be peace at last, one day for me and my family. I hate this mess for me, but more I hate it for my kids. Patrick is hurting and for the first time I can't fix it. Mommy has no bandaid big enough to cover this hurt. So we trot off to the therapist and the psychaitrist is hopes this too shall pass. This will be a defining moment is his and my life. I need to be stronger than ever to guide them through this with as little damage as possible. I believe we are not given more than we can handle. So I have to hope God knows what He's doing. I sure don't.

not not not fair.

I am trying to get my son to sleep, tonight before his first day of school and his anxiety is flaring flaring flaring, and I'm becoming so resentful of this whole mess that all I can think is this is not fair! All I ever wanted was a quiet contented life with children and a man I could love and trust. The man turned out to be a total loss and the kids are the best part of our ill fated union. I got no quiet comfortable life all I got is a fire and loss. I know I should take a moment and step back and count my blessings but it seems any more all I get is angry. I know a good part of that has to do with the fire, but I think more to the point, the fire has brought other issues that were hidden to the surface. The anger, the resentment has always been there, only in much smaller amounts, over much less significant things. I love my kids, and I truly believe they are the main thing getting me through this, because I have to hold it together for them. But as I'm making lunches, and he stands in the kitchen crying because I'm not sitting next to him constantly, all I can think is this is not fair. I know, life is not fair, get used to it. Why did this happen t us, to him? Pat is the gentlest, most sensitive creature I have ever had the privilege to know, but these anxiety issues wear me down. I have to wonder where is the balance between finding the strength to guide him through this and being completely controlled by a child and his wavering emotions? Sometimes, when he flares like this I get to tired of always having to be the strong one, and always be the one to hold it together. But that seems to be my role in life. I should count my blessings, and I will begin with the 9 year old boy who is finally sleeping next to me.