Tag Archives: college

lunch – the recap

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In case you missed Wednesday’s post – CLICK HERE.

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seven hours of driving + a quick tour of campus + lunch with our girl = best day EVER!

It was just what we all needed. Seeing Anna in her element helped me let go of my nerves about how she’s doing. She’s thriving. Her classwork is interesting, she loves exploring Baltimore and has made many wonderful new friends (we got to meet several). Two hours of showing us around her new turf and a fun lunch and we were on our way. Saying goodbye was not easy, but we will see Anna for Parent’s Weekend in a couple of weeks and again in early November for Cousin Carlos’ Baptism. Thank goodness – we need more Anna time!

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Saying goodbye wasn’t easy.

Thank you for all the love and support this week. I heard from many moms that they’re feeling the same way and I’m not alone in the crazy drive/hug/lunch/hug/drive. I also heard from a few kids who shared that they appreciate crazy drive/hug/lunch/hug/drives! I sure hope Anna did, because I have a feeling this won’t be the only time I pull this stunt;)

Thank you Anna for being you and, thank you Jack and Mymom for being my partners in crime!!!!!!

Love, Jess

 

lunch

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Several years ago, I was getting my nails done when I ran into a friend whose son had just left for college in Boston. We were chatting all about the excitement of drop-off and what it felt like getting home one kid down. She admitted that the transition had left her feeling a little lost and that she was planning to head up the next day to take her son out to lunch, “What? For lunch? In Boston?”

Maplewood to Boston is a 4 1/2 hour drive. I walked away from the conversation relieved that I would never be THAT crazy.

Jack, Mymom and I are driving to Baltimore to see Anna tomorrow. For lunch.

We’ve been busy trying to get into the rhythm of our new nest. I’m feeling a little less lost than I had expected, but it’s not easy. As long as I stay busy I’m okay, but when the chaos of life quiets, I get teary. The result is that our house has never been as clean and I seem to be very on top of my my TO DO list and piles of paperwork. I am looking for anything that can distract me from the quiet. Things like writing and walking are a little harder to do – too much time to think about how much I miss our girl. It’s better for me to stay in motion.

FaceTime is a luxury that I hadn’t expected. I’m trying not to over-do it, but at least once a day we sit down for our call.

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Thirty years ago, there were two pay phones at the end of my dorm hallway. My parents would call on Sunday mornings at 10:00 am. It wasn’t just their chance to catch up, but it was assurance that I was awake at 10:00 am on a Sunday (As soon as I got off the phone, I would crawl back into bed). Within a few months, I got a phone in my dorm room. Still, the phone calls from home were limited. It’s not that my folks weren’t eager to speak with me, but times were different. 

There is a lot of talk among my circle of friends — maybe we shouldn’t call too much. We need to let our kids fly. They need their independence. We need our independence.

Perhaps this generation is too in touch, but I don’t care. I love chatting with Anna as she’s walking across campus in the sticky Baltimore heat. I love that I am starting to learn the names of her new pals and a little about her classes. AND, I love that Jack is able to not just hear his sister, but see her. This transition has been hard for all of us, but for Jack it’s been particularly difficult. 

Although we’d been preparing for months for this new reality, Jack seems to be constantly waiting for his favorite person to walk into the room. When her picture appears on the iPhone  screen, he lights up. They spend a few minutes making their silly faces as Banana tells her Booger how much she misses him. Parent’s Weekend is just a couple of weeks away, but we can’t wait.

So . . . we’re getting in the car tomorrow morning and driving 4 hours to take our Anna out for lunch. If anyone asks, I tell them that it’s because Mymom hasn’t seen Anna in a few months and the Jack really NEEDS a visit. That’s not completely true. It will be a lot of driving for a short visit, but I’ve never been as excited for a day trip in my life.

Love, Jess

To my friend from the nail salon – I owe you one. A lunch visit is a fine idea – NOTHING CRAZY ABOUT IT!!!!

my anchor

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How’d college drop-off go?

As soon as we left the house, I grabbed Anna’s hand and said, “It took us eighteen years to prepare for this drive.” I was bawling before we left Clinton Avenue.

It was a long two days of loading and unloading and setting up and last minute shopping and crying, before we kissed Anna good-bye and headed home to our new chapter. The house seems a little too quiet, but I’m not as sad as I’d expected. Sad would mean that I’m waking up in the middle of the night crying and sitting in Anna’s room counting the days until she comes home for Thanksgiving break (81 – maybe I am counting a little, but I’m staying clear of her room). I’m not sad, instead I’d describe it as feeling lost.

I’m getting along fine and then something will hit me. The empty stool at the kitchen island or the missing pile of shoes at the front door. I’m missing that fight in the morning when there’s no milk for my coffee because Anna and her friends had late-night bowls of cereal while watching Gilmore Girls. I miss Anna’s boyfriend, Will, racing into our house and wrestling a hug out of Jack. I miss the dirty dishes in the sink. I keep wondering when Anna will be home for dinner before remembering that she won’t be home for three months.

I also miss the chaos of being an everyday parent of a typical kid.

Anna has been our anchor to typical parenting. She’s linked us to her typical schools with their typical sports and typical classes. She’s had piles of typical friends that filled our house with typical snacks and typical teenage drama. She allowed us to get distracted from IEPs and changing G-tubes, because we needed to worry about curfews and grades and other typical stuff.

Being Jack’s mother is my honor and I love (almost) every ounce of parenting him, but it’s different. It’s not the parenting that you read about in novels or watch in movies. It’s not the parenting that MOST of my friends have experienced. It’s not the same parenting that raised me or raised Dan. I pride myself in not needing to be like everyone else, but it has been nice to be part of the conversation when people are talking about t-ball, middle school drama, first boyfriends, driving tests, and college essays.

I’m scared that without my anchor I will be left adrift.

The biggest accomplishments of my life have been as a mother. I am not pretending that I’ve been a perfect parent. There’s a long list of mistakes I’ve made along the way (things I wish I had taken more seriously – things that I did that make me cringe) but, when I look at our two children, I’m so proud of what I helped to create. I’ve grown to embrace being part of Jack’s beautiful, complicated life, and I’ve also loved being anchored to the day-to-day typical parenting world thanks to Anna.

I know that parenting isn’t over when kids head off to school or go to work or start their own families. I just hurt my toe (long story that means I will never go into Trader Joe’s again without wearing boots), and the first person I called was my mother. The last few days Anna has reached out to share stories about her first days on campus. I know I will be part of Anna’s life forever, but my anchor is now 156 miles away. She will no longer share every detail of her experiences. She will make friends that I will never meet and do things that I haven’t signed off on or understand. She is starting her new life. I’ll always be part of it, but a smaller part than I was a week ago.

I’m trying to get my bearings and am really trying not to overdo the calling/texting/face-timing. I want to give Anna space to fly, but it’s hard not to hear her voice around the house, “Mooommmmmm, where’s my backpack/curling iron/charger?” “Mooommmmmmm, what’s for dinner?!?” “Mooommmm, can I take the car?!?”

Jack is doing a great job of keeping me distracted. As I’m writing this (on the couch, with my foot elevated and covered with a pile of ice), Jack is sitting next to me laughing at his Impractical Jokers. Jack might not be “typical”, but he sure is great company!
Love, Jess

PS Anna isn’t just a pleasure to parent, she’s the best friend I could ever ask for. Maybe I am a little sad. Just a little. Enjoy every second Blue Jay Banana, but don’t forget to FaceTime!!!

Two-Armed Sister Clutch

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You’ve heard from me for ten years. Now, it’s Anna’s turn. When it came time for her to write her college essay I was excited to help, but like all things academic, she insisted on doing it on her own.

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        I have to hold his torso carefully so that he can’t bite me. For years, as my brother has gotten stronger, my technique has evolved from a simple shoulder hold into the now perfect “Two-Armed Sister Clutch.” My dad takes care of his head to keep it propped up—after all, the neck is the most important part. After ten minutes of very cautiously carving away at his beard, the world’s brightest smile emerges from his newly exposed face. I’ve just shaved my nineteen-year-old brother for the third time this week; my favorite chore with my favorite person.
        A sharp automatic razor and Jack—that’s my brother—make for a very interesting endeavor. But despite the chaos of the project, it always gets me thinking clearly. I think about the disease that forced its way into Jack’s brain ten years ago and made him this dependent on me, and about the fact it has been TEN years. I think about who he was before his disease—my typical big brother, goofy and in love with life. I think about who he is now—my silent and disabled big brother, goofy and in love with life. And finally, I think about who I am, and who his disease has made ME.
        Shaving my brother is a difficult task. I start off by trimming the top layer of the every-so-gnarly hairs. The first layer of Jack’s story is one very long word (the first word with more than six letters that I ever learned): Adrenoleukodystrophy (ALD). That is the neurodegenerative disease that turned my family from one straight out of a J. Crew catalog to the very quirky, “special” family that we are today. I was six, Jack eight, when he was diagnosed with ALD and his brain function slowly unraveled. Suddenly, my brother’s voice wasn’t around to fill up my house with jokes and curiosity. Suddenly, I had to be the athlete of the family…and the social butterfly… and the nerd. And now, a decade later, I am a hop skip and a jump away from being a professional groomer, too.
        After I trim Jack’s beard, its time to crank the razor up and dig down through all the brush, rounding the jawline and inching in to each crevice. Shedding that hair makes Jack look so presentable,… so professional… so normal. I get flashes of Jack Torrey as an adult (Doctor? Lawyer? Artist?), walking the streets of a big city, wife and kids by his side, living a normal life. I see myself meeting him for a bagel and talking about our careers, our friends, or our families. Sometimes I just picture us talking. It has been ten years since Jack last spoke.
        Luckily, my feeling sorry for myself is quickly interrupted by the most amazing laugh to ever exist. The disease that stole Jack’s words and independence did not manage to steal his laughter. I look at him and see what that sweat-inducing work out really uncovered: a giant, radiating smile. I let go of him and he wanders around the kitchen, slowly making his way back to me, tongue out and eyebrows raised, to give the best hug any sister has ever gotten from their big brother. That is Jack’s way of saying thank you.
        I’ll never have a typical sibling to show me the ropes of life and gossip with when I’m older, but Ill always have Jack. I’ll have his smile to tell me to always work as hard as I can. I’ll always have his laugh to encourage me to give back to other people and other families. I’ll always have his hugs after a lacrosse game or job interview gone wrong. And, I’ll always have an escape when I want to think about these things all over again—after all, that boy could always use a shave.

Anna Cappello Torrey
Johns Hopkins University Class of 2022 (we just got the news!!)

 

Love, Proud Mom

 

 

 

If it weren’t for ALD . . .

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I ask myself a lot of questions that start with, “If it weren’t for ALD . . .”

If it weren’t for ALD . . . would I still be a photographer?

If it weren’t for ALD . . . would I have ever written anything besides shopping lists?

If it weren’t for ALD . . . what would Dan and my relationship look like?

If it weren’t for ALD . . . would we travel more?

If it weren’t for ALD . . . would Jack love music so much?

If it weren’t for ALD . . . would Anna be thinking about studying art over medicine?

If it weren’t for ALD . . . would Jack’s laughter be as loud?

If it weren’t for ALD . . . what would this year feel like?

I knew that this was coming, and did my best to brace for it, but I am still having a hard time. I open up Facebook and I’m faced with dozens of pictures of dorm rooms and college gear. Smiling family portraits of the last hug before mom and dad get in their car to leave their kids that are starting their next chapter.

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I thought I was okay, but the other day while getting Jack’s haircut, we were approached by one of his old friends. Jack was delighted and didn’t miss a beat – he went right in for a hug and a lick. Jack was fine, but seeing her beautiful smile and hearing about her plans had me crying before I knew what was happening.

So many tears.

I’ve been asking myself — If it weren’t for ALD . . . would I be crying this much as I said goodbye to these kids?

I’m a girl that cries at commercials and the cheesiest of Hallmark cards, so I’m guessing this milestone would have arrived with plenty of tears if Jack were among his college bound peers, but I know that it’s made more intense because ALD did happened – because Jack won’t ever reach this milestone, because it’s another thing he’s missing, because he’s being left behind.

If it weren’t for ALD . . . where would Jack be headed? Would we be driving or flying? Would he be off to study history or art or a language? Would we be excited to empty our nest a bit or dreading the goodbye? How can I NOT wonder “If it weren’t for ALD . . . ?” And, how can I NOT be sad?

So, my tears are flowing these days, as I expected they would be, but I’m realizing that there is another, unexpected layer to my sorrow.

I’m suddenly aware that a big life chapter is coming to a close — not just for the kids heading off, but for everyone they’re leaving behind. So much of my life for the last 19 years has been, not just as a mother to my own children, but watching all these other little humans go from babies to toddlers to school-age children to young women and men. I can’t believe that these kids are starting to move on, leaving everyone in their wake to figure out what they’re supposed to do with our new “freedom”. My nest will always remain full, but the focus of my circle of friends is changing. Friends are talking about selling their houses and starting new projects and careers.

How did we get here? What does that mean for our family? Just when I reached a place where I felt comfortable with my roll in the world, it’s changing. If it weren’t for ALD . . . would I be so uncomfortable with this change?

Crap.

Love, Jess

Today brings the hardest blow yet. Katie V and Katie M each head out for college (RJ is just a week away). These are not just family friends, they are family. Kids that have been been with us — held us up — before, during and after. We are going to miss you guys. Good luck, have fun, and feel free to call Aunt Jess with anything that your mom and dad might not want to hear;)

 

I refuse to steal the HAPPY out of HAPPY BIRTHDAY

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I don’t remember all of my birthdays, but 19 was especially memorable. My friend, Dave, took me out for dinner. It was our favorite Chinese restaurant and I’m sure there was a Scorpion Bowl or Mai Tais or something else really sweet and really strong. We stuffed ourselves with beef and broccoli, and then Dave insisted on ordering dessert. Who does that at a Chinese restaurant? Fried ice cream or something odd and I could hardly fit in a bite. Besides, I was anxious to get back to the apartment. It was my birthday and I wanted to grab our friends and go out.

I felt like Dave was going in slow motion as we made our way back to the Woodrow (think rundown/gritty/college three-story apartment building in Baltimore). I was so focused on how lame he was being that I didn’t considered WHY he was moving so slowly until we walked through the door.

“Surprise!!!!”

I’ve never been so shocked. Somehow, without me having even a clue, my mother had contacted my best friend, Enger, and sent her some cash to plan something nice for my birthday (remember this was years before cell phones). I’m guessing that my mother had envisioned sparkling wine and canapés, but instead there were pizza boxes and a keg of beer. It was one of the funnest nights of my life. Rowdy, loud, and silly. 19.

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JackO is turning 19 on Saturday.

Each milestone that we reach comes with a little reminder of what coulda/shoulda been and I hate that. I hate that there is any hesitation on focusing on the happy part of happy birthday. I hate that I spend even a second wondering if I would have sent money to Jack’s college friends to buy some booze and party favors (probably not – 2017 is not 1988 – I’d probably end up in jail for contributing to the delinquency of minors). I hate that I wonder where Jack would have gone off to college. I hate that I use any ounce of energy cursing ALD — AGAIN.

But I do. I can’t help it.

When I started writing this, it was for me to post on Jack’s birthday, but I’m not going to wait until Saturday. It’s not fair to Jack. It’s not fair to his birthday. His birthday is for celebrating. He deserves it. He is the happiest person I know and NOONE likes a celebration more than our boy;)

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So — enough of the coulda/shoulda. We are going to celebrate all weekend. Heading to the beach with some of our closest friends. We’re going to eat pizza and cake and maybe even find ourselves a Mai Tai!!!!! Then, on Monday we will celebrate again with his pals at school. And, when we head to Block Island later in the month — we will have more cake and do more singing.

I will send some photos of all the fun on his actual birthday. In the meantime – send Jack a note. On Facebook or right here. Scroll down. See “Leave a reply”? Go for it!

Love, JackO’s mom

PS Once I have written down my feelings, I feel much better. No need for weepy phone calls or awkward hugs if you see me. I promise I’m now focusing on WackO JackO and his big, fun day/week/month.

PPS I wrote this last night and, as I was falling asleep, it occurred to me that I might have actually been remembering my 20th birthday. Enger? Dave? Betsey? Deb? Anyone?

 

 

The Other “C” Word – Part 2

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“Come on JackO! We need to keep up!”

I am not sure how many times I said those words, but it felt like thousands. I really didn’t want to miss a minute of the tours. Jack did managed to keep up pretty well – he hopped his way through three campuses over the weekend.

We spent the weekend in Boston looking at colleges. I’ve been dreading the “C” word for years and now we are here – smack in the middle of it. The clock is ticking so loudly that our family is having trouble focusing on much else.

Let me start by saying that we are thrilled for Anna. She has worked hard to be able to walk through college campuses with confidence. It’s not just top grades in top classes, but she runs clubs, has organized camps, has had an incredible internship, and is athlete too. She lives her life wasting very little time with nonsense. I’m sure she will have many wonderful options. And, she will (even if it kills me) have a family that supports her every step – or hop – of the way.

BUT

This new stage has been hard for me and it came out sporadically all weekend. The “C” word is bitter or sweet depending on what second you catch me. Just ask my family. This weekend I would go from cracking jokes, asking lengthy questions to the college guides and demanding selfies — to hiding in the bathroom and yelling things like, “I will take my own Uber home!”.

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My skin is just really thin these days. I am trying so hard to make it fun for Anna. It should be. It’s an exciting time and she has worked tirelessly to make this next step in life. And, college is amazing – the classes, the clubs, the parties! How can I not be excited for her to go?

… FOR HER TO GO

To leave us here without her daily dose of humor. To leave us here without her long stories of teenage angst. Who is going to steal my clothes and call bullshit on me trying to serve leftovers for three days in a row? It’s going to be so quiet here on Clinton Avenue. I imagine I am not alone. I bet all parents have their hearts break a little when they imagine their birdies flying. Change is never easy.

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And then we have an added heartbreak. The other side. The child who cannot fly. Jack who will not be going off to college. I try not to focus on the on this too much, but there are reminders everywhere we turn.

We were literally surrounded by college-bound faces all weekend. Kids that are Jack’s peers. Kids with the same mischievous smiles. The same stubbly faces. At first glance, they all look the same as our boy, but the are not the same. They didn’t have Adrenoleukodystrophy storm into their lives (and brains) as a child.

Even at home, we are being reminded. All of Jack’s childhood friends are either already in college or are anxiously waiting to hear where they’ll be heading. It breaks me when I think of what Adreoleukodystrophy stole from Jack.

ENOUGH

I need to focus on all of adventures that lie ahead for Anna. It’s going to be amazing and lead her further towards her goals. She will get closer to medical school or a PHD in something I will never understand. She will meet new people, travel, have incredible experiences and tons of fun.

I ‘m going to toughen up and be okay with all of this change. By the time we go for our next college tour in North Carolina, I am going to be carrying a strong, bright smile and leave the tissues behind . . . but if I can’t — I apologize in advance.

Love, Jess

Jack doesn’t seem upset in the slightest. He loves any chance of exploring with his family. Jack just hops through his life with a smile.

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How to raise a great kid – HANDS OFF!

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I had a super stressful dream last night. Not my typical, “I forgot to wear pants to the grocery store” dream. This was new and I woke up sweating.

I dreamt that I was having trouble with my college essays and not sure if I would get my applications done on time. I could read into it, but I think it’s pretty clear what my subconscious was trying to tell me — it’s time to relax and go back to HANDS OFF parenting Anna.

The truth is I’m usually a pretty hands off parent with Anna. Not to say that I don’t grill her after every party and open her report cards, but both Dan and I generally allow Anna to make most of her choices without too much guidance. Safety is (of course) important, but other than a curfew, she has very few rules (and even that is pretty negotiable).

It started when Jack got sick. Anna was only six years old and her family scattered. She went from having a father who was available every day to toss a ball with her after dinner and a mother who was always finding random excuses to show up at her school, to not knowing who would be home to tuck her in bed each night. She knew her family loved her, but she also knew that if she needed something, sometimes it was just easier to make it happen herself. Siblings of special needs kids have a perspective that their “typical” peers don’t.

Although I appreciate how fun it would be to helicopter around and watch everything Anna does while adding my two-cents, I just don’t have the time or the energy. If Jack needs me, it means he needs assistance with eating or needs his diaper changed. I can’t NOT do it. If Anna has a question about her homework, Google is faster than waiting outside of the bathroom door.

As IF I could help with her homework.

Don’t think that Anna’s not getting any attention from me. We talk and text throughout the day about everything from clothes to friends to our relationships with God. We have breakfast and dinner together (“breakfast” is her eating an Eggo waffle and me drinking coffee, but dinner is an actual meal that I have prepared). We are so close that we are starting to look like each other. When people see us together they call her “Mini-Me” and it’s not just that we look alike, our mannerisms and senses of humor are the same – it’s almost creepy.

We’re close – what I mean by HANDS OFF parenting is that I don’t micromanage her. I don’t watch over her constantly to make sure she is doing things just so. She needed to get her driving permit a couple of weeks ago and all I said was, “Great. Just ask around and tell me who to hire. I will make the first phone call, then it’s all you.”

When she was planning her course-load for junior year, instead of digging through all the choices, Dan and I just sat back and watched her come up with her perfect schedule. My only input was “I think I would prefer AP Art to AP Calculus, but if that’s your thing – have at it!”

We trust Anna because she has proven that she can be trusted. She is a great student and has a wonderful circle of friends. She makes good choices (mostly – she IS a teenager). She is kind to her brother and when I watch her interact with other people I am proud of who she is.

We’ve been so relaxed with Anna that I was surprised that Dan and I climbed on board the “college train” with such intensity. Looking through college books, long talks around the dinner table, planning trips to see schools. Perhaps it’s a distraction from NOT working on the project with Jack or maybe it’s just super fun because Anna has an impressive transcript —  And, maybe part of it is that Dan and I really, really, really want to go back to college ourselves;). But, I need to be careful. I’ve found myself checking Powerschool daily and questioning grades, looking at that giant book of colleges even when Anna isn’t home, thinking about essay topics and waiting anxiously for the next round of ACT scores. I’m getting dizzy with all the information and Anna is not appreciating the frantic input.

“Mom, you know I have this covered, right?”

Yes, I know you do baby girl. You have turned into a remarkable young woman and I know you will do amazing things. Mom will go back to HANDS OFF parenting. Just let me know when you need me.

And, when can we plan that trip to Virginia and North Carolina . . . and Boston – we need to go to Boston!dsc00726

Love, Jess

 

What’s NVRN spell? Nothing.

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This is the smile that gets me through the hard stuff.

 

At my tennis lesson last week, I saw a young woman who looked familiar. She was a little older than Anna, and I was having trouble placing her. I went back to trying to focus on my forehand when it hit me, “Hey. Did you happen to go to Morrow Preschool?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly I could picture this slim young woman as a little girl a dozen years ago, with rosy cheeks and a glowing smile, playing with Jack on the playground at their preschool.

“You were in my son Jack’s class.”

“Wow. I’m not sure I remember him. Does he go to the high school?”

I sometimes freeze when I get hit with what’s happened. Maplewood is usually a safe place, where everyone knows our story. Where I don’t need to say things out loud. My stomach turned as I tried to choose my words so that we could simply go back to groundstrokes and drop shots, “No. Jack goes to a special school. His life’s kinda complicated.”

Now that we were both feeling awkward, I wished I hadn’t started this exchange and quickly looked for a transition. Her sweatshirt was bright and new with the name of her future, WESLEYAN, “You’re a senior this year? Heading off to Wesleyan in the fall? That’s wonderful.”

That’s all it took. Her smile grew, as she went from wondering what happened to her old classmate, to thinking about the adventures that lay ahead. We were both allowed to continue with our lesson, focusing on easier things than how complicated life can be.

When I got home from the lesson, I went into Jack’s room to say goodnight. He was sitting up in bed, and as soon as I walked in the door, he gave me a big smile as if he’d been waiting for me to tuck him in. I gave him a kiss on his forehead and laid him back down. As I covered him up, I realized he was wearing the bright purple NORTHWESTERN sweatshirt that we’d gotten him last year while visiting my parent’s alma mater.

The sweatshirt is missing all but 3 1/2 of it’s letters. Jack has somehow managed to eat the rest. He has eaten the O,R,T,H, most of the W, E, S, T, and E.

I can’t make this stuff up. It is a college sweatshirt that’s missing the college.

Love, Jess

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Life is work.

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Every time I think I have a handle on this new life, it slips out of my grasp.

The last couple of months I have been getting a little cocky. Feeling like nothing was getting me down and I was managing so well. I got through the holidays without procrastinating on my Christmas cards or forgetting a gift. I was looking forward to my spring art classes with new lessons and an eager attitude. I was averaging 15,000 steps a day on my Fitbit. I even started a new writing class, determined that 2016 was the year of getting published. I was on top of the world.

Then, things started falling apart. I’m not sure what happened, but I am fairly certain that full hours were snatched from my days. I couldn’t seem to sleep enough or get even half of my “list” done on any given day. My pile of bills started mounting into a tower in the office. Laundry seemed to never leave the heap on the chair in our bedroom. The kitchen sink was always full. Every room of our house had a reminder that I was losing a battle.

What do I do when I’m overwhelmed and feeling nuts? I pretend. If anyone asks – “I’m doing great!”. I walk around with a big smile and hope that conversations don’t get too deep so that I’m not forced to reveal anything. The last thing I really want to do is to talk about feeling that I’m losing my grip. I’m Jesse – I’ve got this.

Of corse there are hints. I don’t return phone calls, I drink more than I should, I avoid anything involving intimate conversation. I can easily disguise my mood from most people, but my close friends and family usually pick up on the signals. Dan has been asking “You okay?” so much that I started feeling kinda bad for him.

Time for a change.

This week, I’ve been avoiding the vino, tackling the laundry, sorting through the pile on my desk and searching for whatever it is that’s gotten me out of sync. It’s going pretty well, but have you ever noticed that laundry and bills are never really done?

 

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One of the things I do to keep myself on task is I write with a friend every Thursday morning. She and I have been devoted for two years to our Thursday morning ritual of meeting online, selecting a topic and diving in to a 30 minute “flash” writing session. Once we’re done, we exchange our work and then catch up on our lives. She and I have become quite close, although we’ve never met in person (we met while taking an online writing course two years ago). I think sometimes those anonymous relationships allow us to be more honest. She knows almost as many of my secrets as Jack does.

Yesterday morning she asked if there was anything on my mind. “Keeping up with change” was the subject I came up with. It was easier to suggest than, “I think that life is swallowing me.” She and I each poured our coffee and told each other that we’d be back in 30.

The beginning of this piece is what I got through. I’m always amazed how writing can help me better understand what I’m feeling. Once I find the words, my mood always seems to improve. Now, I just need to sort through what put me into the sour mood so I can avoid it happening again.

The “C” word (college) keeps coming up and it’s certainly not helping, but I don’t think that’s all of it. I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed with normal, every day, I’m a grown-up shit. I won’t play the ALD card here.

Just because you have BIG crap going on doesn’t mean that the SMALL crap doesn’t bother you too.

My writing friend has a great way with words. She ended her note to me with “Life is work, and boy does that work take time.”

Indeed.

Love, Jess