Thursday December 27, 2018

When my children were very young, I loved this quote: The days are long, but the weeks fly by. I find it to be very true, even now. Parenting small children was the hardest and most meaningful work I've ever done. You're doing great. Parents who wonder, am I doing the right thing, are the ones who are doing it right.

I do miss the most I think, the ability to fix things for them by rocking them, and singing, and holding them close. Now when their hearts are broken, I can hug them and assure them they'll get through it, but I can't fix it anymore.

And you are so right, you will have the time for those things you crave again. I miss my babies, but I love this time of my life too. I feel like my 50s are like my 20s except I'm wiser and I have more money :)

Have been MIA again, but now back.

For those who're having fun, I'm sincerely happy for you. For those who aren't, I feel your pain!

I had thought I was going to avoid holiday blues, since the days before Christmas went pretty well. But then Christmas Day hit, and it was not good. Part of the problem is that it started off with TONS of sweets. Why in the world do relatives serve pancakes and cinnamon rolls (two kinds) for Christmas brunch. I believe that entertaining menus like that are hostessing felonies. And I'm not even kidding.

Normally, I'd blame my Christmas Day Crud on the brunch sugar overload (which I can sometimes be very negatively affected by), but in this instance it was greatly magnified by the crush of missing my husband. I appreciate much better now why "the first holiday season" after the loss of a spouse is notoriously a tough one.

Yesterday (the day after Christmas) I saw my local ophthalmologist who agreed that my un-surgerized eye looks better, but still has issues. Without getting technical, the infection appears to be gone. But because of the infection I have been left with a tear duct that must be removed (each eye has 35 tear ducts -- who knew?!), because it's still generating oily tears (like tear ducts are supposed to produce), but now there's no functioning outlet, and the tears just accumulate there until they burst through the eyelid. Lovely, huh.

Long story short, my ophthalmologist and my cataract surgeon had a conferene call and agreed I must continue hot compresses 3 times a day (for 30" each time) and continue to apply the antibiotic ointment. My second cataract surgery is now tentatively scheduled for the third week in January. Four to six weeks after that, I'll have a third surgery to remove that goofy tear duct, and I'll be done!

So **** it! My new (current plan) is to go to NOLA now. I'll drive down early next week, get settled in, register for French classes, then come back here in mid-January for the cataract surgery. Then drive back to NOLA for 4-6 weeks of more French and Mardi Gras, then return home for the tear duct surgery in mid-February.

In closing, I reiterate: I am so ******g sick of Christmas, winter, sweets, carbs, decorating, dirty dishes, gift-giving, and post-holiday sales.

P.S. I have recently learned something very helpful, which I'd like to pass along: Laundry baskets are exceedingly superior to suitcases when you're transporting lots of stuff from one domicile to another.

Yes to laundry baskets! When we did road trips, I had a million of them in the back of the van: the snack basket, the toy basket, the beach basket, the shoe basket... easy to see what to grab, easy to carry.

I mentioned it yesterday, but will say again: Damn! Your resiliency is enviable. I so admire your ability to look at your emotional state, make sense of it, own it, and tell it like it is. My reaction to your sentence, "I am so ******g sick and tired..." was "Rock on, lady!" There was a power conveyed in those words. A self confidence, if you will. I didn't sense a whine or self pity. Just good old fashioned righteous aggravation.

I had wondered if it was going to hit you - the sorrow, the lonely, ... I remember my dad's first year. It was tough. (I've said before the first year without my mom was super tough for me. I can only imagine what it's like for the spouse who loses a life partner.) I will also never forget him telling me, "Nobody tells you about the second year." He found that people were less attentive and concerned after a full year of being a widower. He felt even lonelier at the outset of the second year. That was the one and only time I've ever known my dad to seek formal, medical support for his emotional well being. He is otherwise a true pull yourself up by the bootstraps type of guy.

Glad you posted today. Best of luck with the eye surgeries. Gotta love your approach - not letting it get in the way of your NOLA adventure.

I was in a frozen hole for at least a year after my oldest daughter died, but felt like I was "thawing" at about 2 years. So when I got exceeding depressed at around 3 years it took me by surprise. But almost 14 years later, though I have many times when I miss her I have more times when I cherish memories of her.

Liz, thank you for sharing your experience after your daughter's death. I think I'm going to stop telling myself "I'm out of the woods" and try to be more open to accepting whatever feelings come up.

Yes sometimes you just have to let the feelings happen but just try not to stay immersed in them too long? Planning things like NOLA and trips that take you out of your usual environment are the best at breaking the negative cycles. For me, work and doing things for my younger children helped immensely (sort of the putting one foot in front of the other but then it becomes enjoyable). I feel like the event that finally kept me in a better place was when we bought the home we are in on Cape Cod. At that point it was our weekend/vacation home. That was just short of 5 years after Elise died.

Once again, Liz -- thank you. I find much value in all that you've related. It's so useful to hear others' experiences.

xoxo

A.

Thank you, Devon -- for all of that, but especially for relating your dad's experience after your mom died. That's truly helpful.

So sorry that the holiday has been difficult. I think all the "firsts" after the loss of a loved one are unexpectedly difficult.

What complications you have had. I think you have the right plan: No point in dwelling on the eye thing - get moving to NOLA!