For the past several months, my life has been characterized by absence. Not just here, where the intervals between posts grow longer and longer, but at home and within my self. I let my daughter watch too much television. I hear my husband talk without really listening. I walk into the kitchen and stare at the dishes spread across the counters and put my head in my hands because I just don’t even know where to start.
I wake up in the night and smell the soft baby smell of my son’s head and feel his warm breath against my chest. And it makes me want to cry because he is not so little anymore, and I will never get these moments back, and I don’t feel like I’m appreciating them enough. And at the same time I desperately want to get into the car and drive far, far away, except that I would still be there at the end.
I am very, very sad, and I don’t know how to fix it. I get emails about how I’m so strong and so brave, but I’m not. I am a woman who is somehow still twelve years old. I am tired, and afraid, and my family deserves more than what I am.
Something has to change.
It’ll be quiet around the blog for a while, but not forever. I’m going to read crates of picture books to my children. I’m going to write letters to my Nana and my best friend. I’m going to drink herbal tea in my favorite mug. I’m going to hold our cat and nuzzle my face against her soft fur. I’m going to make dinner. I’m going to call my dad. I’m going to do laundry, and fold it. I’m going to take walks. I’m going to start reading again. I’m going to make love to my husband. I’m going to eat dark chocolate.
But first, I need to sleep. And step away from the keyboard.