A Distressing Week

Last Friday was Morrigan’s 19th birthday. Of course, he’s away at basic training for the navy, and we have no contact with him. We haven’t even received the letter that tells us his address yet, so we can’t even send letters. When I thought about my kids leaving home, I never factored in the possibility of not being able to contact them. I thought even if they were far from home, we could call on their birthdays, and they could call us if they were sick or lonely, and we could check up on them from time to time. This is an entirely new thing for me, this silence, and I’m not 100% coping well. On Morrigan’s birthday, I woke up so depressed, and I spent most of the day crying.

(baby Morrigan)

Y’all, this is not like me! I’m pretty okay with my kids leaving home. I’m not one of those moms who cried when my kids went to school for the first time. I didn’t cry or worry when Morrigan went to Japan for two weeks last year, even when he got food poisoning. I knew he’d be all right. I didn’t cry when he left for basic training two weeks ago. I’ve prepared myself for leaving ceremonies – they’re part of life, and I’m happy that my children are going out capable and ready for their next phase of adulthood.

But this…being unable to see if he’s doing okay while he’s in a situation that’s known for breaking people down? That stresses me out. And then his birthday on top of it? It’s the first birthday I haven’t spent with him EVER, and I couldn’t even give him a ten second call. He had NO ONE to say happy birthday on that day, and knowing him, that was a source of sadness. Morrigan is like me in many ways, and he values those ceremonial traditions. So I broke down on Friday, and cried for much of the day.

The days since then have been…rough.

Friday evening: Jason and I took Ambrose to the homecoming game because he made royal court. It was awesome to see him out on the field in his gold cloak, though sadly he didn’t win King. We left after halftime, because sitting in bleachers had exacerbated the sciatica I’d gotten while painting a few days beforehand. Saturday, we found a house we all loved, including the boys, in our old pre-Boston neighborhood, and put in an offer. That night I was so anxious that I only managed to sleep until 4am. Sunday, the offer was surprisingly accepted, and we were suddenly in a time crunch to get our house fixed up and on the market. Again, I was so keyed up that I woke up in the four o’clock hour. Monday, after going radio silent all day, the seller’s realtor came back to us and said the sellers changed their mind and decided to go with someone else after all. !!! I also saw my chiropractor, and while he worked out the kinks from some of my painting injuries, the sciatica remained (and is worsening). Yesterday, after much consideration, we canceled our upcoming vacation cruise with the boys, and got what refunds we could.

I am…overwhelmed. Our house is ripped apart, with multiple construction projects ongoing, plus boxes everywhere as we pack up the things we can live without over the next few months. Everything is a mess. My right hip is killing me. I haven’t had sciatica this bad since my three pregnancies. I’m in a haze of insomnia (though thankfully I slept through the night last night!) and living on coffee. And I can’t even write to my oldest son, who is probably lonely and exhausted and homesick. I need some positive energy sent my way right now. It’s been an incredibly distressing week.

About Amanda

Writing. Family. Books. Crochet. Fitness. Fashion. Fun. Not necessarily in that order. Note: agender (she/her).
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1 Response to A Distressing Week

  1. Amanda, I’m sorry to hear about all this. Sending you positive vibes right now…this Saturday is a readathon. Feel free to join in, if you’d like to try to take your mind off things. Although I know it is hard to do so…I’m recovering from knee surgery (not the same at all, I know, but distracted, yes) so I’ve also been binge-watching several things with my wife. Anything to take my mind off the postoperative pain.

    Liked by 1 person

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