Nest Struggles

I am a bird who really needs her nest.  Even in college, when other girls were bunking together in impossibly small spaces, I needed my own little room, my very own, filled with bookshelves and quiet space.  As I have aged, this has become more and more the case.

I think it has to do with being a bit of an introvert.  I've spent most of my life posing as an extrovert, but the older I get, the more introverted I become.  Anyway, I need that quiet space, and I especially need it when my life is chaotic.

Well, my life is chaotic: the divorce proceedings are taking up far too much of my time, and work is busy, and I still haven't totally adjusted to this single working mom thing.  And this week I spent two partial days at the courthouse, taking court mandated classes.  (The parenting class was actually four hours, and more interesting than I thought it would be.  It said exactly what I thought it would, and I didn't learn anything new, but the presenter was good, and that helped.)

And then there's house repairs.

I am in the middle of what I call my mini-kitchen-remodel.  This is not a big dream remodel - this is done out of necessity and with the slimmest of budgets, but I'm hoping that by keeping an all white pallette (counters, cabinets, backsplash) it will look clean, crisp, and maybe a tiny bit chic.  There was mold under the sink, and it just had to go: it wasn't healthy, and that made the kitchen my number one priority for house repairs.  I kept the upper cupboards (which though old, are perfectly fine), and tore out the bottom half of my kitchen, including part of the floor tiles.  As remodels go, this one is tiny: no walls moving, no major layout changes, no upper cabinets.   I've gone the IKEA route, cheap all the way, but upgraded a bit on the backsplash, sink, and faucet.  (Have you seen the prices of faucets?  It's insane!  A curved tube with a handle is hundreds of dollars - yeesh.)

And my sidewalk - the one the neighbors complained about - is under repair now, and my garage door got fixed today to the tune of about $600.  Oh, and did I mention that our cat got sick, and this lead to a $600 vet bill?  And on top of the vet bill, the cat has been urinating blood all over my house, until we locked her in the bathroom (so now it's only in the bathroom).  (I love our kitty - she's a sweet girl, and a lot of comfort to Katherine.  She's worth it.  We're giving her antibiotics and pain meds, and she's diagnosed with cystitis and crystals in her urine, so she's now on a specialized cat food.)

Kitchen cabinets in the living room, countertops against the bedroom wall, my cupboard contents in piles in the basement, a kitchen that is unusable, a bathroom filled with a sick cat.  We're eating out every meal or eating cereal in paper bowls.

It's chaos.

And I'm venting.

The bills are making me sleepless - literally.  The refi money will only stretch so much, and I'm spinning at night.

I know, breathe through it.  Keep breathing.

It's possible that my kitchen will be usable by the middle of next week (with plumbing!).  It's possible that kitty will be better by then.  It's possible that the sidewalk will be fixed.  And next weekend I'm doing a half day yoga retreat, adn though my body is tight from lack of use, I'm really hoping that it will wake me up and help me to feel more myself.

I want my nest back.  I want this to be done, to head into an "easy" time.  Please?

I know that I've made such huge strides, and that I'm likely being impatient.  But I really, really, really look forward to next weekend, getting my house cleaned and moving back into the kitchen, and looking forward to the living without such repairs needing to be done!

I can do this.  Right?  Deep breaths...

****

This is a messy post, like my messy house.  Living in chaos makes me feel chaotic - even my brain feels disorganized.  But because some sweet and kind readers have told me that reading my struggles and successes helps them to feel more hopeful, I will end on this hopeful note:

In the past four months, I have:
- converted to full time work
- refinanced my house ON MY OWN
- hired an amazing nanny (remember, sharing her so that it's affordable)
- done most of the mediation and paperwork for my divorce
- filed for divorce
- mothered, worked
- taken the best vacation I've had in years
....and begun home repairs that make my house not only more pleasant but also more functional

I know I'm rocking it.  I'm prouder of myself than I've ever been.  But don't mind me if I get grumpy sometimes, and completely lose my mind, like I am today.  I am human, and I'm allowed to be human.  I'm tired, and I'm ready for a break.  But I've come a long way, and I haven't forgotten that.

Upward and onward.

Rolling with the waves

Things seem to come in waves.

Right now, I'm dealing with a divorce, refinance, house repair issues (major ones), a dying father in law.  As indicated in the last post, I was starting to feel pretty good about all of that: I have been working hard at managing my business.

So the next wave has arrived: a beloved aunt has early signs of colon cancer, and it appears to be genetic, and linked to breast cancer; she needed copies of my genetic testing and called me with the news.  This prompted calls to my own oncologist, who tells me that I need to get in for a colonoscopy, stat, and that it is of some concern; she also tells me that I need additional genetic testing done for breast cancer.  Having lost both of my breasts as well as my reproductive organs due to breast cancer, I'm probably even less excited than the average person concerned about colon cancer.  And I don't need to mention that I have a daughter who doesn't even HAVE breasts yet, and that new information might mean genetic components to my cancer, which I may have passed along to her.....

And then her school called.  Maybe a bit of testing for dyslexia is in order?  Her comprehension is incredibly high, but her spelling of even sight words is really off, and maybe testing is in order....?  She's performing at grade level but the spelling is below and this can be a sign....?

And my father in law moved to hospice yesterday.

I'm sure that there is humor in here somewhere.  When the waves come, they come hard and fast, and I'm spluttering, turning my head to take a breath only to discover that there is a different wave there, and I take a gasping breath only to inhale water.

It's a good thing I'm a strong swimmer, and that I'm not a quitter.  There is shore out there and I am not stopping until I reach it.

This week, we notorized our decree of dissolution.  Today I sign my house refinance papers, and for the first time, I will have purchased a house all by myself.  My job is going well.  I can use the refi money to do the house repairs (hallelujah) in time for winter.

I do not have colon cancer.  I refuse to have colon cancer, and I refuse to panic.  I will do the testing because it's important, but I will expect good results.

And my daughter doesn't have dyslexia or any problem other than that she's a terrible speller.  She's doing well in math, reading, and science and always performs at grade level (above grade level for reading) in all things except spelling.  I will not freak out about this. I will take necessary precautions, but I believe this is going to work out.  (And I also believe that I need to post about studies of long term stress on children - like having a mom with cancer and then going through a parents' divorce - and how that impacts them.  Stay tuned.)

And I visited my father in law not long ago, and told him I loved him, and last night Katherine and I talked deeply about dying, and then Katherine slept in my bed with me and we were both peaceful.  We are at peace with our relationships with him, and with his death.

This weekend I will spend some quality time in home improvement stores and on the Consumer Reports website, but I will also go to a Halloween Party, and with a little luck, tomorrow I will drink coffee for two hours uninterrupted while Katherine sleeps in, and I will catch my breath.

I am doing the best I can.  I am still swimming.  Sometimes I swallow water and choke, but I am not going to drown.  As a matter of fact, when I reach that sunny shore, I'm going to drink tropical fruit juice and lay on a towel reading a magazine, and then I'm going to build a sand castle with Katherine.

But right now, pardon me, I have to keep swimming.  Back to work.

****

If you are going through hard times, you're not alone.  But we can do this!  We've got this.  See you on the beach!

This is really happening

When I had cancer, after the initial diagnosis I was required to have three surgeries (two large and one small) before I started chemo, and then I did two sessions of chemo before I started to really lose my hair, about two months after the initial diagosis.  I chose to get my head shaved, rather than having it come out bit by bit, leaving a trail around the house, because it completely unnerved me to touch my head and have a handful come out.

Being PollyAnna, I turned it into a bit of a party.  I got my closest friends to come, and my hair stylist hosted us at her salon early on a Saturday before it really opened.  I didn't want to see myself half shaved - I've never been a punk rocker - and so I faced away from the mirror, towards my friends, as she shaved me.

Finally, it was done, and they asked me if I was ready to see myself.  I took a deep breath, and they slowly turned my chair around to face the mirror.  The words that flew out of my mouth at that moment shocked me, because what I said, with tears streaming down my face, was, "I have cancer!"

I knew I had cancer.  I had plenty of proof that I had cancer already.  But there was just something about seeing my bald head that drove the point home in a whole new, painful way, and it was at that precise moment that I finally understood that this was really happening to me, that it was not a bad dream, that my life was forever changed.

I feel like the next stage of my divorce might be similar to that moment of seeing myself in the mirror.

After much resistance (a topic for another post), Bryan has finally agreed to go out and get an apartment on schedule for his July 1st move out date.  In so many ways, this makes me happy: when he's here, it is awkward in the extreme, and I never know if he's going to be nice or snap my head off with sharp words; I am always certain that he will leave a trail much worse than breadcrumbs that I will have to clean up.  But the biggest reason of all, is that it allows all of us to move forward, to start the next part of our lives rather than this really difficult living in limbo.

We have been exchanging lists of what to keep, what to give up.  We've got a plan for Katherine's room (and I need to go furniture shopping for a new bed for her).  We're divvying up the kitchen things, and I have a shopping list for that, too.

But despite the fact that for more than a year we've lived separately in this house, that we have had a child custody schedule of alternate weekends, that we are very open with friends and family about the divorce, that many life changes have taken place to move us closer to divorce (including my working outside the home, and him working out of state during the week)....I'm pretty sure that the day he moves out and there are spaces where his things used to be, it's going to be a bit of a shock.

I have no regrets about the decision to divorce.  I gave it everything I had, I played by the rules, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't make the marriage work.  If Bryan begged to have me back - a VERY unlikely scenerio - I would not be tempted, because I know that our marriage was not good for either of us.

But still, some days, it's hard to believe that this is happening, that this is really my life.  Sure, I'm a capable woman who is taking charge of her future....but this is scary stuff.  Sometimes I wonder how I'll make it through.

And I'm really dreading the moment that I look in the mirror in a half empty house, and see the face of divorce.

Note: I will address the parenting aspects of this major change in another post.  Tonight, that just feels like more than I can manage.  Katherine is doing great, but I am not a fool, and every time I think about the changes in her life I feel my heart breaking.




Does this make sense to anyone, or am I truly looney to feel this way?

What has made your divorce feel more real and tangible? 

Do you ever feel like this (divorce, or other difficulty) isn't really happening to you, that somehow this can not be your life?

Thank you, dear readers, for sharing your thoughts.