We are about a year out from this “transition year”. It’s been one hell of a roller-coaster. We’ve said goodbye to a job, a church, a beloved dog, an Aunt, a cousin, sent friends halfway around the world, started two new jobs, and transitioned a child from tween to teen.
I had visions of what life would feel like a year out from all of it. This is not what I envisioned. I thought we would be in a happy and healthy new place. Instead, it’s a mixed bag of rocks.
The new job is good and challenging. A new church feels the same. Saying goodbye to people is always hard.
I find myself with this low-level anger just below the surface. Two weekends ago I lost my shit. I asked one of the kids what they wanted to eat, made a suggestion, they agreed, I made the food, then they decided they didn’t want it. Instead of figuring out a solution I smashed the plate onto the kitchen table. I think the heat from coming out of the microwave and sudden impact is why it literally exploded. I’m still finding pieces of that plate in odd places… on top of the piano… inside bins in the kitchen… It wasn’t a great moment but it was cathartic. No one was injured, no one was even in the room, just me, a plate, and a table. The three of us had a nice interaction that released a lot of pent up rage I was feeling. I think it’s from all the grief.
Grief mingled with isolation. A year ago our life was full of activities and people. Now it’s just sort of empty. I feel like a cup turned upside down and shaken out of all it’s contents. Shake. Shake. Shake.