Sometimes, it’s all just too much. Even for me, former Happier Than Most poster girl.
Tired, moody teenagers. Injured husbands. Dreary weather. Ex-husbands and shared custody. PMS. Lack of sleep. And not enough exercise.
Last week was just one of those weeks where the stars aligned to tell me to go f*#k off.
It was the kind of week you drag your ass through for most of it until you can see the end and then, you launch in to a sprint to make it be over faster.
The beginning of the end of my week-long fight with the cosmos came to a screeching halt when I spent an evening chatting with a woman, my age, with terminal cancer. Her life these days consists of taking care of herself, spending time with family and friends and planning the trip she and her husband are going to take soon in the new RV they bought. You know, before she dies.
Kind of changed the view of my little world.
I came home that night and said to my husband that the past week had left me feeling vulnerable in a way that I hadn’t felt in many years. And it was such an odd feeling for me. The kind of feeling where you may start crying at the drop of a hat. Where you feel backed in to a corner by the sorority bully. Or the guy you’ve been dating has decided to go back to his high school sweetheart. After he took your virginity.
I’m hardly ever the one to feel this way. I’m the ignore it and it’ll go away type of person.
And I don’t like to lean too hard on anybody for help but I did this time. My husband held my hand through the weekend and helped me re-group. No, he didn’t literally hold it for the whole weekend. But it was just the two of us. Our kids were with their other parents. And it was nice.
He cooked a few meals for me and we also went out on a date to one of our favorite restaurants. I got dressed up in heels and a short frock. We sat at a table for two and just enjoyed: each other, the wine, the food, the night.
I also caught up on my sleep, exercised and did a little Spring cleaning. I even spent part of an afternoon reading a book in bed. A true rarity. Saw my kids for a few hours on Saturday and they didn’t even fight. Another true rarity.
I felt like I was cocooning. Wrapping myself up in all the things that are good things in my life, including my husband’s arms. Kind of a cheesy description but that is truly how it felt.
One of the hardest things for me has been recognizing the need to do this and then giving myself the time and the space to do it.
But I’ve learned the power, and necessity, of retreating. At certain times in life, you need to get to a safe place, where you can think and figure out where to go from there.
And I’m fine now. I’m done cocooning. But I don’t want to talk about it. Because I just did.
Image via puuikibeach/Flickr