Mom countdown - Day 10

It was a beautiful day of walking and reading and playing bocce ball with Bill in the backyard. Then it hit, out of nowhere - the crabbies. But it wasn't just normal crabbies, no, these were the all-inclusive, all-consuming crabbies that poison everything and color my world icky shades of gray and black, greasy smoke vision everywhere. I felt trapped, stifled, stagnant, suffocating and drowning in my life. I want to travel, move, go, feel alive. Our last family trip was in July of 1999, 8 years ago if my math is correct. If we've only got so long to live, we've just wasted a huge percentage of it, maybe 10% of our whole life, and I just want to get in my car and drive somewhere - to Banff, South Dakota, Colorado to see Thich Naht Hanh, California to Mount Shasta, Sedona Arizona, Boston for clam chowder. I blamed Steve, but I know it's inside of me, this restlessness, but then it didn't stop there. Steve was incredible, just sitting there, reaching out to hold my hand and listen, without trying to make anything better - he couldn't, anyway. He knows just to sit while I talk loudly and cry and wait for the emotional storm to pass. God, I'm fortunate to have that man in my life.

It leaked over into my work, and that's dangerous territory. I started questioning my work, thinking about my future, what I want to do (or should be doing), and I had a not-so-fleeting thought of giving it all up to go make coffee at Luna. What's it all for? Am I doing enough good in the world? Helping enough people? Doing what I'm supposed to be doing? Should I be writing a book? Teaching more classes? Workshops? Public readings and channels? Traveling? Looking for help? I'm doing it all alone, and I sometimes feel tired and lonely. This feeling of frustration can be so all-pervasive, when I finally came up for air I started laughing and thought to myself, "I bet Melissa is feeling the same way." I'll have to ask her tomorrow when she gets back from the lake. That may put it into more perspective, but it doesn't lessen the load when I'm actually in the middle of it. Pema Chodron says to just stay - the spiritual warrior stays for just one minute longer than she wants to run away, so I focus my eyes and just stay. I'm disciplined - a 3 time All-American doesn't get to be that way without being disciplined. That's what I always say to Steve, but the word is interchangeable - it could be "disciplined," or "tenacious" or "stubborn" or "dedicated," but whatever it is, perhaps I can call on it to pull myself up and keep going, even when all I want to do right now is wipe it all clean and start completely over. It's just too much. I feel like I'm spinning 20 plates, and I'm tired of concentrating on keeping all of them going. I think this all might have something to do with my mom dying, but I'm not 10,000% sure, just 9864% sure - there's wiggle room.

candle update: I couldn't even LIGHT the cinnamon and clove candle last night - the wick has solidified into a steel rod, and there's still an inch of wax left. Then I thought maybe it was a defective wick all along that caused the candle to go out, and I got embarrassed. Was there a logical explanation for it all? Was it just my wishful imagination? (hey, it's happened before) So I pulled out my soy candle and lit it instead. I opened my eyes an hour later and ... it was out.