Day 88

     Dear Stranger at the grocery store,

I can't hide my exhaustion anymore.

     I'm just kidding. Well, sort of. I don't love those types of posts, so I always promised myself I would never write one. However, I had an experience that prompted me to want to address a man I met in the grocery store.

     On Tuesday, I went to the store to pick up our food for the week. Grocery shopping can be pretty intense because of my dietary restrictions and the boys' aversion to any food I make. I'm pretty sure I prepare three or more options for each meal and now that I'm also making the baby's food… the cart fills quickly, and the refrigerator empties even faster.

     On this particular day, my daughter was clingy, so I wore her in a carrier as I shopped. She was rather comfortable as I walked through the aisles, eventually falling asleep. While I love baby wearing and it's convenience, I'd still rather shop alone. I enjoy wandering the aisles and imagining meals I could make if I had the time (and the eaters!). Shopping with a kid- baby or grade schooler- just doesn't go the same way. I end up with things in my cart that I don't really want and usually forget half of my list.
      As I sped down the laundry aisle for dryer sheets, a kindly older man stopped me to find out where I had picked up the item I was carrying, the baby. It was like a pick-up line, only he was a grandfatherly character looking to dote over a baby. Something about the man seemed very comforting and we engaged in a conversation about babies and how fast the time flies. It turned out that he also had three children-two boys and then a girl. I enjoyed the brief conversation but had to move on to finish the shopping and check out before the baby woke up.
     I went to the register and began to put my purchases on the belt. I frequent this particular grocery store often, so I know many of the workers. There is a bagger who either may not pick up on social cues or who may be uncomfortable helping me, but he avoids whichever register I go to. I don't mind at all as he seems to be a very nice man who completes each specific task he is given. My daughter woke up while I was being rung up and immediately began to cry. Picture an overtired woman, wearing a baby, trying to simultaneously move three hundred dollars worth of groceries out of the cart, into a bag and back into the cart. It wasn't going well, but I could handle it. I consciously thought "I don't need help". I was sweating, Caroline was crying and people were looking. The bagger stood at the register next to mine with nothing to do, but would not help. I didn't want to cause a scene by asking him to assist me. But, if I'm honest with myself, I was quickly losing my composure. Then, a hand grabbed my arm. It was the gentleman I had met in the laundry aisle.
     This older man, who was about 80ish years old, walked with a cane and was at least two inches shorter than me said "let me help you, dear". I told him that I was fine and he didn't need to pick up anything. He grabbed my arm again, looked me in the eyes and said firmly, "It's ok to ask for help. I'm telling you this because I wish someone had told me. Please ask for help."

    Well as you can imagine, I began to cry in the middle of Stop & Shop. I was overflowing with emotion. I think I still am.

     Plenty of people have told me to ask for help if I need it. In fact, I know there are those of you who are reading this post who have specifically offered help. I am terrible at taking people up on the offer. I think I am not really sure what kind of help I need, so I guess I'll start off with asking for suggestions.

    How do you do this? How do you get through each day and give your kids, your partner, your job, and yourself the proper attention and energy each aspect deserves? Any tricks? Hints? Life hacks?
   I'm asking because I need help being a better mom, wife, and friend.

     So, thank you to the man at the grocery store who helped me to focus on the bigger picture of my life, which I hope will help me get through the regular tasks of everyday living. I hope you know how much your kind words meant to a haggard mom on a Tuesday afternoon.

Day 87

     On Saturday night we took our kids to the university football game, which was followed by fireworks. This picture is of my daughter's reaction to those fireworks.

What are those?!?!?!?

     I want to capture this moment for forever. The look of joy and wonderment. What must she be thinking as she watched the colorful explosions? Everyday she is confronted with new sights, sounds, smells, and sensations. She explores, learns about and enjoys the world around her. There is so much in life that she has yet to discover.

     There was difficult news out of our town this past week, the loss of a young man to suicide. As my children grow, it becomes harder to digest moments like this. I've had personal experiences- the loss of a friend, as well as my own suicidal thoughts during my battle with postpartum depression.
     I remember being void of emotion. I think that is what stands out the most for me- there was no joy, no anger, no frustration. There was nothing. I don't ever want my children to experience that emptiness. There is so much around us to experience- good, bad, painful, wonderful. I used to focus on being happy. I felt that if I wasn't happy, I was probably doing something wrong- weren't we all supposed to strive for happiness? I have come to realize that it's an unrealistic expectation- particularly when you battle depression and anxiety. Now, I just focus on feeling.

     Right now, I feel raw. I do not know what led to this young man's desperation. I don't even know the complete spectrum of what led me to my own desperation. I also don't know what it was that led me to get help before I caused myself harm. This is what frightens me- the complete lack of control. There is so much that the world has to offer. Yes, there are times when the news is awful, the politics unbearable, and reality overwhelming. But I want my children to experience it all. I want them to know that difficult situations don't have to be desperate. That I will always be there for them. I will love them always.
     The uncertainty of life is what makes it so precious, but it is also what makes parenthood the most challenging undertaking I have ever faced.

   

Day 86

     Fifteen years ago, I witnessed a horrific event unfold before my very eyes. Today, I shared my memories with my son.

Confronting a hard truth

     A lot has changed in fifteen years. In fact, the entire trajectory of my life changed because of that gorgeous Tuesday morning.
     The memories I have of that day are not particularly intriguing, but they are etched in my mind unlike any other moment. It truly feels like yesterday- the details are so vivid. I woke up early to go to the gym. This was not something I normally did, but I was trying my best to work through some intense anxiety and depression as I entered my senior year of college. I was stressed about my final year, my grandmother and my favorite professor were both dying of cancer, and I felt like I had no control over my life. The gym seemed like a good place to start out the semester. The sky was the beautiful shade of blue that everyone from the NY metro area recalls. The late summer air was cool, with the hint of autumn. I checked into the gym, got on the elliptical and looked at the TV. I watched in horror as the attack unfolded before me. Most concerning to me was the lack of response from my fellow gym goers. When the second place crashed, I screamed out loud. No one else reacted. Was I dreaming? This all felt so wrong. I ran out of the gym as fast as I could, back to my apartment.
     I woke up my roommate, turned on the TV and watched. I called my professor to tell him I wasn't making it to class. I knew this wasn't good. I called my mom and told her she needed to turn on the TV. I started crying, thinking about all of those people on the planes. I tried to figure out how the people above the impact would get out of the building-then it hit me hard. I knew they wouldn't. The buildings looked wrong. I screamed. That scream haunts me- I have never made a sound like that in my life. The buildings were coming down. This feeling of terror, I knew this was terrorism. That's what they want you to feel, the way I felt that morning. The way I still feel today as I try to recount my experience. That was when I lost my innocence.

     This morning, I took my oldest son to church after his first Sunday school class, and as we walked between buildings, we were confronted by this enormous tribute. A flag for every life lost was planted into the grounds of the parish. It took my breath away.
     My son asked me for an explanation. How do you explain that day? I paused and knew that I had to share the truth with him. This wasn't something I could brush off- the impact of those flags was too great.
   
     I don't know if I said the right things, but I was honest. I got down to his level and held him as we talked. I told him that we must share kindness and not hatred. I said that we must pay tribute to the lives that were lost with loving actions.

     I changed on September 11, 2001. It was the catalyst for long and painful process that took me to some pretty dark places. I ended relationships, started new ones, changed my plans for senior year by postponing graduation and reexamined my career plans. These decisions led me to where I am today. My life today is not what I had planned for on September 10, 2001. I can only hope that I am living a life that honors and respects the victims of 9/11 and their families.