Being a hermit does have certain perks. For example: FOBLO is a disease to which I have a decidedly robust case of immunity.
All my friends are getting together without me and I come across their festive, smiling photos plastered about social media, arms slung all around each other's shoulders?
No worries (!)
No invite = No excuse needed as to why I can't make it. {Introvert Problems}
It took me a whole month to connect with even my closest girlfriend....for a phone call.
It's just that things haven't been so stellar in the Life on the Homestead Department with regard to our adopted daughter and man, that can suck the life giving oxygen right out of a woman. My mental energy? Consumed. My physical energy? Devoured. My stamina? Weakened. Endurance? Used up. Emotional fortitude? Washed away.
Whoa. It's a helluva lot of work to parent these situations. Holy macaroni.
On a good day, I'm introverted. Throw in a few months of can't turn your back on your child and must foresee every possible angle that will be manipulated in advance or you will wish you had parenting and wowzers, I'm an utter recluse. I've always been a homebody to the nth degree. When times are tough, it magnifies. You know Agoraphobia? She is my homie. {Um, punny!}
I don't have to go anywhere. The Housewives keep me company. The ones in Beverly Hills. For the fun of it, because I have such an outrageous number of spare hours on my bored little hands, I'm working my way through episodes one by one beginning in the first season on Hulu while I jump rope and press dumb bells and stair step and crunch abs, because physical strength, it fortifies the mind. I escape to the land of extravagance where every single thing is fake, phony, blown out of proportion and staged because it bears zero resemblance to my own existence where old fashioned minimalism is my ultimate objective, shopping excursions that don't involve groceries or thrift stores are faced with dread, cocktail parties are an absolute no-go, wine is served in mason jars, and the diminishing art of making do reigns supreme. Their wildly over the top drama brings me a measure of peace. Oxymoronic much? I think yes.
And my Pebble. Oh, the love. The lovely loving love, love love. Not to be underestimated is the precious the ability to hold and cradle and rock another living being. A tiny living being. Who will never once talk back, swear to high heavens that she hates me or move out to pursue dreams of her own. She is mine to have and to hold until death do us part. The comfort! Priceless is the treasure achieved by a love such as this. Puppy kisses, they're the berries.
And the Vikings. At night. Where I retreat with my ever faithful, steady, rock of support husband. Under an antique quilt on the love seat in our quiet haven of a modestly decorated bedroom. Just before the day is done when the band of hoodlums have been nestled into their cubbies and the lights are turned out. I am Lagertha, shield maiden, kick ass babe on a mission. Now, she and I have something in common, we don't back away from a fight. Nevermind that she could obliterate me with one swipe of the sword. In My Fantasy Land, we are peers.
And Jayla who casually tells her dad one day that she and I are best friends. Breathing life into my days and hope into my heart and joy beyond containment into my world. That girl, like a honey salve to my soul, sweet, light, pure, natural, untarnished exquisiteness.
And Tyden, who asks if he can schedule some uninterrupted time to sit down with me and tell me all the things he's been storing up to say. He openly shares, desires my company, delights in my presence. His gift is good.
And Clover who doesn't want to go to her homeschool program because she'd rather stay with mom. Still my baby.
By this boundless grace of free flowing love with radical Hulu self care aimed at keeping me firmly rooted outside the walls of the mental hospital so that I can serve my family well, we live to fight another day.
The Real Housewives, Lagertha and I.
2 comments:
I can so relate. Some days I just want to lock myself in my bedroom, read a book or watch Hart of Dixie and hope none of the savages come knocking at the door! Have you discovered the Beta moms secret FB group? It's for adoptive moms who are struggling. These ladies really understand our struggles! Some have far worse situations, so it also gives some perspective. Would you like me to add you?
Yes,I understand every bit of this. Hang in there.
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