Sloppy, Wet, and Kinda Scared

I used to have everything managed quite well.  I knew what was going on.  I knew when things needed to be done.  I had my finger on the pulse of everything going on around me and my little group.

When my husband developed cancer, I thanked God that I was as organized and methodical as I was.  Finally, being borderline OCD was a plus!  And I maintained a heightened awareness of everything throughout his illness and never missed a thing despite how complicated it got or if I was tired or even if I was sick, myself.  I hauled everything around in a fantastic boat with seemingly effortless skill and consistency.  I was like a high-powered ski-boat, zipping along atop the water and managing to keep everything dry inside the boat.

And then my husband died.  He fell out of the boat.  And it was like my engine started down-shifting.  And my ability to maintain control of the boat and it’s contents was compromised.  I was managing to go to work and keep up with my 18 yr old Step-son who was just months away from graduating high-school.  But I was struggling with details like trying to make a grocery list and being able to focus on things.  I was still motoring along, but my engine was definitely sputtering.

And then my Step-Son moved out – he decided there was no reason to stay with the Wicked Step-Mother if he could, instead, go live with one of his sisters.  And without the requirement of having to maintain control and management over him, my boat engine seemed to sputter to a halt.  I could hear it’s last gasps of trying to run.  I could feel it shuddering and struggling.  And I looked at the shore line, so very far away where my family and friends were waving at me, and felt fear that I was going to be stranded out in the middle of the water.

And as the law of physics took over, the fact that my boat engine stopped did not hold back the massive tidal wave that had been created in the wake of my boat.  And I was swamped.  My boat started filling with water and is desperately in danger of sinking.  I have been left in confusion as to my inability to get myself moving again.

I keep waking up each morning and slowly bailing the water out of my boat.  Somehow it stays afloat.  But I am more tired now than I ever was – in spirit and in the ability to gather the gumption to give a shit and really get the water bailed out of my boat so I can work towards re-building it.  I can’t remember what I’m supposed to be doing.  I show up for appointments on the wrong day.  I can’t remember if I ate lunch or when I watered the plants last.  Weeks have passed since I vacuumed and dusted.  I don’t know how many rolls of toilet paper I have.

I am living a sloppy life.

I used to feel disdain for people who lived sloppy lives.

Now I feel empathy for them, whether they created their own sloppiness or whether it was handed to them in a package of crap they never asked for.

Living sloppy is not comforting and doesn’t feel safe.  Everyone on the shoreline is waving at me and shouting out their support.  But I am alone in this boat out here in the middle of the water.  I continue to bail out the water.  I don’t know the answer yet.  I don’t know how to fix the motor or how to get rid of all the water.  I seem stuck and in danger of sinking.

I am sloppy, wet, and kinda scared.