So. Hi there.
It's me. I am still around. I just haven't been around, er, here exactly.
When I sat down to this bright white screen I was shocked to see how long it had been since I had sat here, in this space that at one point in time kept my swirling brain calm.
It's been over 300 days since I've sat to write about my beautifully infuriating girls. Over 300 days since I've griped about housework, laundry or gardening. Over 300 days since I've complained about my aging aching body trying to stay in shape.
Over 300 days since I could think clearly, because 374 days ago I lost my Dad and inexplicably lost my balance for over a year. I lost my voice, my focus, my humor.
There is no way to recover the days and moments I lost, forgot to share and record. There is no way recount each hilarious thing Brenna said; each insightful thing Addison said; each act of gentle kindness I got from the people on my home team.
I never anticipated my grief to pull me down in the way it did.
I didn't anticipate not caring about my responsibilities and others' needs and getting the grocery shopping done.
I didn't know that there would be so many days, more often than not, that I would want to remain safely ensconced in bed, under my blankets, head buried in the pillows.
I didn't know that I would cry when hearing certain songs. Or that I would pick up the phone as often as I did to call a number that no longer worked to hear a voice that would never pick up.
I didn't realize, 374 days ago, that I would stop taking care of myself. That I would blindly fake it through most of parenting; that I would let go of the wheel and demand that someone else take over, whether it be my steadfast husband, my girls' amazing grandmothers, or my generous friends.
I didn't know that it would take so very long to start to feel on solid ground.
I have allowed myself to wallow in some very sad, very angry, very bitter places over the past year. And I have demanded that no one help me carry my burden of grief because I thought I was just fine and didn't need any help from you thank you very much. I could carry this boulder of brokenness on my own.
Except I couldn't.
I couldn't carry it.
It exhausted me and angered me and made me someone that I am not very interested in being. And, also, even though I thought I was doing it alone there were so many people who propped me up without ever telling me.
And for that I am deeply and eternally grateful. To each of you - my thanks.
I'd like to think that I am now making the choice to be present again.
To notice what is happening around me and caring about it.
To let go of petty grudges and stop keeping score.
To see the wonderments that are my resilient little ladies.
To celebrate the silent strength of my husband, the generosity of my family, the cheering section populated by amazing friends.
I know that the past year hasn't been my finest. And I know that my Dad would say it's time to shake it off....And so I am.
He is still in my daily thoughts. I still miss talking to him and arguing and laughing
and sharing a bottle of wine with him. But he would want me revel in my life - to live it fully, with laughter and joy and determination.
Today is our last day of summer, as the new school year starts so does the new me.
I promise to be present and productive and patient.
At the very least I owe it to these people, my people.
And I promise to show up here once in awhile to let you know how it's all going.