Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, and from the bright edge of my renewed and growing flame, I thank you. I’ll post later, when I’ve managed to stop crying every few minutes over the waves of love directed towards my children and me, but for now, all I can do is offer my humble and wretchedly inadequate “thank you”.
So. I don’t know why stuff happens. I just don’t. I have just under 5 months until I graduate. I’ve knocked this out, and I’m almost there…. almost. Then I got called in to talk to my bishop on Sunday. I haven’t cried so much since…. oh yeah, TUESDAY, when my heart nearly broke into a thousand brittle pieces.
Long story short: My bishop, a good guy, caught between a rock and a hard place I can only presume, had the clearly unpleasant task of telling me the church was not going to able to continue helping me and the kids. After the waves of panic and sobbing (mine), he was super clear that I had done nothing wrong and he was so sorry, and he admired what I’ve done and and and… And I don’t know what I’m going to do…. I don’t have a clue.
Now, not only am I facing the last several months of school, writing a more than 100-page capstone, taking my last math class, applying for grad school, but I’m also looking at having to move and not having the resources to do so. If I think too much about it, I start to panic. I don’t know how I’m going to do this. I honestly have no idea.
The last two days have been a swirling vortex of panic and tears. I had a test last night that I know I bombed on- went utterly blank and copped to it and wrote that for one of my essay answers. I didn’t know what else to do. Everything hinges on my graduating, keeping my GPA up, and getting into grad school. Everything. And I can barely even think right now, let alone write a coherent paper.
All the schools I’m applying to are out of state. No matter what, this is going to be an interstate move. How am I going to drive my car, and a moving van, and take three kids? HOW? How am I going to hold onto Little House until the end of June so at least my kids have that stability- and I cannot even fathom if I have to move in the middle of my finals before I graduate. What if I implode?
When I look back at the last five years, it makes me want to curl up and sob. I’ve always kept getting back up. Every. Single. Time. In retrospect, I’m kinda proud of that. But this last one? It feels like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me, and I’m seeing stars. I want to curl up and cry. I want to close my eyes and have someone else make it all better. I want someone to say softly to me “I’ve got this one, Trace.” and allow me to see what it feels like to be safe. Even if just for a moment.
Yesterday, I honestly doubted my ability to do this for the first time. I felt so flattened that I had to lay on the ground for a while and remember how to breathe. Today, still raw and sucking for air, I found that tiny spark- it’s way fragile- moreso than it’s ever been- barely sputtering… but it’s there. I’m going to nurse it for a day or two, and hopefully, with a little care, the spark will turn back into the fire I need to finish this fight.
Thank you for all the well-wishes on my last post. My heart is still tender, but I’m going to be okay. I can’t give more details than that, but I hope someday I can. For now, no matter how much it hurts, I stand firmly in the garden of Love being worth it, and would not want to live my life any other way.
I’m grateful for a very mild January/February thus far. I haven’t had to shovel snow once, and there was only one time I should have but didn’t. It’s sunny today and 41* feels warm– maybe I’ve lived in the northwest too long.
Girls Night Out tonight with some friends. I need the diversion and it should be fun. Hoping to land a sitter here soon. Nevermind the homework I’m neglecting.
Bob’s Red Mill gluten-free chocolate cake mix makes good cupcakes, and keeps me from hurting myself with the Krispy Kreme’s I’ve been craving.
Bean hit a milestone this morning. He was playing with his siblings, and became quite agitated. I could hear him coming unraveled and starting to honk. I was heading down to intervene, and he ran upstairs, into his room, turned off the lights and shut the door. He crawled under his heavy blanket, and he calmed himself down. First time ever. I gave him some time, and when he was receptive, told him how proud I was of him. We made banana bread together as a reward for his milestone.
Took the kids on a bike ride while I ran along behind. Ran up to the church to play in the giant snowpiles in the back, got cold and wet, but happy, and then ran home, pushing Abby while she complained that her legs hurt. Winter has taken its toll on our muscles, and it’s time to whip us back into shape. Take that, atrophy!
Thinking really hard about a quick trip down to CA- I don’t know if I can swing it, but if I can, I juts might do it. I miss my family, and I miss the sunlight, and I miss the ocean. Seattle’s ocean, despite sharing the name, is not the same as San Francisco’s ocean.
Bean found his bugle. Take pity.
I’m ticked at Lego for their damnable new product line directed at girls. The people in the nauseatingly pink sets are not even Mini-Figs, and if you’re a Lego person, that’s just an abomination. Nevermind the ridiculously vapid themes they’re pushing at the girls. I wrote Lego, with the picture below. That’s what creativity looks like- it’s not sugar coated in pink and purple. I hope the new line fails miserably and they come to their senses.