I am coming to realize that adulthood is waiting for life- the next hectic interlude- to run it’s course and allow breathing room, only to realize that the chaotic stretches occur concurrently and don’t particularly conclude. Which is basically an eloquent and wordy way of saying, I keep waiting for things to calm down only to realize it never does and everything is on fire. Always. It has made drafting these poignant essays a tad difficult. I have a tendency to want to compose these documentations upon the culmination of events. I find that a perspective of hindsight allows for a message of …. lets say positive completion. If I write amidst uncertainty or a heightened emotional state my writing has a propensity to reflect that of an angst ridden adolescent full of histrionics and melancholy. The obstacle in my way currently, is that I haven’t navigated a middle ground yet. And in the absence of that, I find myself relegated to my comfort zone- self isolation.
I have been searching my brain for a way to describe the last nine months. I am coming up short. There is no succinct, articulate sentence I can construct that seamlessly cascades into a greater thought. It’s been hard. Joyful. Exhausting. Content. Scary. Overwhelming. Mundane. Exciting. Comforting. And everything in between. You see, the economy has done unpredictable things which impacted my business in not-so-delightful ways. In the midst of navigating the charming chain reaction this enacts, E decided that the slightly panicked curmudgeon this sort of stress transforms me into is exactly the woman of his dreams. He proposed in the most unplanned, uncomplicated, genuine way- I was incapable of saying no. It was perfect. A week later, I had major surgery to remove my thyroid. Over the course of three months, Moose started back at school, we planned a wedding as well as my next surgery, trick or treated, and navigated the daily minutia that is adulthood. It was chaos in it’s purest form- and it was beautiful.
Our wedding was a direct reflection of who we are as people and a couple. We omitted every aspect of a traditional wedding that we didn’t like. We didn’t cut a cake. Or even have a cake. We didn’t have first dances. There was no guest book. We hung out with each other and our guests before the ceremony started. The guest list wasn’t extravagant, nor was anything else, for that matter. Our largest investment was in our photography, which was worth every single penny. We laughed and drank beer with the people closest to us and basked in the euphoria that can only be experienced on a day that is the combination of true joy and the terminus of planning (that may or may not have induced some stress eating). It was exactly what we wanted it to be. And on same days, we joke it was a fever dream. A mirage in the wavy horizon of life. Two weeks to the day that we pledged our dedication to one another (and Moose), I had surgery. Again.
Over the last several years I have had increasing discomfort in my midsection. Combined with reflux, weight gain, and a host of other things. Frustratingly, with no explanation or relief. After multidisciplinary medical consultations, a colonoscopy and endoscopy, physical exams, second opinions, and a slew of research- we had a plan of action. A week before Thanksgiving, my freshly minted husband loaded me into our car and drove me to the hospital where I underwent a hysterectomy. Our Thanksgiving was nontraditional this year.
Having two major surgeries four months apart is more exhausting that I anticipated. I tend to over estimate my abilities to persevere. However, now that I am past the limited post operative period for both procedures, I can say unequivocally that the decision was the correct one. My uterus was in cahoots with my thyroid to try and take me out. I can eat again without pain. I can tie my shoes without unfortunate acrobatics within my esophagus. I feel like I am returning to a whole human again.
I feel like a bad infomercial at this point. But that’s not all folks! Life continued to march on throughout all of these events. E has had upheaval at work, which he has been steadfast at maneuvering- despite the substantial stress. While maintaining my design practice, we have been laboring over our passion project- and finally getting it off the ground. A podcast. I know, I know. Everyone has a podcast these days. I am now one of those people and I make no apologies. So long work hours have gotten longer. Responsibilities amplified. Sleep has moved in the inverse direction. But it feels like the right thing. Like it might give someone the information that they have been searching for. Which makes it all worth it. So we forge on.
All of this preamble is not without it’s contextual importance. Denoting the avalanche that has been accumulating at a gradual pace, eradicating my oxygen without perception until suddenly I couldn’t catch my breath. I am realizing now, it has also been a mechanism of avoidance. The final infomercial reveal- to keep the metaphor alive. Because the elephant in the room is that I have been navigating advocating for the Moose man and myself over the last three months as well. Which I, I must admit, as I got to this paragraph, I abandoned this draft entirely. I thought about shooting these words to the trash bin and pretending I never set out to create a digital record of any kind. I’m not going to do that. But I am also not going to push through in the name of perseverance. Not yet. We are still in the midst of figuring some things out. Learning. Assessing. And when I know more, I’ll share more.
In the meantime, life keeps going. While this draft languished in the shadows, I celebrated another revolution around the sun. I am now firmly ensconced in middle age. A fact I find oddly comforting. I am learning more about myself and how to best be a mom to the greatest kiddo I know. And I am hoping- in the middle I am learning how to be a better partner to the man that treats me with a grace I haven’ experienced before. Basically, I am slowly becoming accustomed to the chaos that seems to be status quo and I am hoping that translates to somewhat more frequent posts. But I make no promises.
Mommyhood Mayhem and Me 