From Chaos Comes Happiness

It's a crazy kind of world right now. Crazy. I last wrote in April. It is now May (just two days away from June). We are still doing social distancing due to the Covid19 pandemic that has taken over our world this year. But we slowly . . .   slowly . . . are moving back to some sort of normal living. Or, I guess I should say towards a new way of living. A new normal. And I think I am afraid. I mean, I am ready for it. Of course. Aren't we all? But there is a strange comfort that has taken over in the past two months. And the future is still this crazy land of unknowing. A land of unclear circumstances and a different world than it was 3 months ago. Boy oh boy - is it ever. Phil is still on reduced hours and salary. Working only two days a week and receiving 40% of his pay. It has been a really difficult time for him. Anxiety is high. Patience is low. Being unclear on the future of your career is a pretty scary scenario. He has found a few projects here or there around

"Are you writing during this time?" my friend asked. "No," I answered. "Don't you think you should?" she asked. "I don't know," I answered. My friend. She knows me. She loves me. She knows that writing is my therapy. She knows that it is what I do when I am working through challenges in life.  "Don't you think you should?" She also knows that if she plants that little seed in my ear, it will more than likely grab hold of some part of this brain and grow it's little roots in every part of my being . . . until . . . I write. Damn. Friends. ;) I am not writing right now. Because, for the past 11 years, I have taken pride in always finding a way to the positive during rather dark and dismal times. Yes, I do that. I try to see through the challenges and find the silver lining. But right now, I can't do that. Because right now, the emotions I have swirling in my head don't seem to have silve

Sometimes, it hits me like a brick. Like a fucking huge ass brick that is coming at me 100mph. My sister is dead. Shocking . . . to say it like that. So direct. So final. But it is the truth. And sometimes, it hits me just like that. I walked into my house yesterday to this . . . her wedding dress. In my living room. My brother-in-law wanted me to have it - in case my girls wanted it for either a part of their own dresses some day, or maybe their babies christening gowns. Or something. The thought was one of kindness and generosity. But still, it fucking hit me like a brick. Today? Why today? And why did my own husband just leave it there for me to see? And why is it such a big deal to me? Because . . . it hurts. It hurts every damn day. It has been 434 days since she passed. (No, I am not keeping a tally going . . . I promise. I just looked it up for this post.) But, it has been 434 days since she passed. And it has hurt for 434 days. And that, my frien

I am sitting in my daughters room right now, it is 6AM . . . . and she is 13. She turned thirteen at the end of January, and last night she had some friends over for a small birthday gathering and sleep over. 13. My Ella. The kids are all sleeping in the family room, and I woke early, mildly suffering from the onset of a cold that is slowly starting to move down to the chest. I needed hot tea - pronto - so instead of making a ruckus in the kitchen, I grabbed my car keys and headed to Starbucks (their medicine ball tea really is the best). This also gave me the opportunity to be the greatest mom (a goal I recognize is unattainable and unrealistic), and picked up two dozen Dunkin Donuts - one dozen assorted and one dozen vanilla long johns (because those really are best). Returning home, I grabbed my tea, my iPad, a book, and a long john (hey, I am human), and took myself to Ella’s room - the only place where I would not disturb all the sleeping creatures in our house. I don