I exploded last night, which felt wonderful.
It’s so much preferable to imploding, which is where I was headed. I sucked it up- swallowed my stupid jealousy and worry that Molly will spend the night at the grandies’ and not want to come home and we let her go for the night. I rented Children of Men*(vague spoilers under my signature) and we tried to have a relaxing laid back date night.
Instead I exploded. Tears and snot and racking sobs all over a stunned Bu.
We’ve been so cranky with each other this week, and we hashed out the underlying stuff. We made a tangible, practical plan to try to manage some of the chaos in our lives. It was productive, and writing this I feel like Heidi, co-CEO of Heidi + Bu Marriage, Inc. But, seriously, it was so good. I feel more connected and partnered with the Bu, and it was honestly great to sleep (long, deeply, and sans nipple action) without the Boue.
In the middle, or rather, nearing the end of my break/down/through was an insight from Bu that made me fall fucking apart. He said, “You think you’re not allowed to be happy.” And I dissolved into a bawling mess, barely able to say: “The last time I relaxed into my life and had fun without thinking about it, my mom got sick and died.” It’s true. When I had really gotten through the darkest depression and self-destructive shit, had a job I really loved, and was having the fun time a young woman in her early twenties should have, I lost my best friend and confidante and pee-in-my-pants-laughing party buddy and guide and mirror and nurturer and Mama all at once.
I can’t describe how much I needed to realize that and articulate it. I’m terrified that the moment I forget to be on guard, braced against the other shoe dropping, something else awful will happen. Bu told me that he’s here with me, and I nearly yelled at him that tomorrow he night not be. He held me and reminded me that chances are he will be here, and Molly will be here, and we are all safe and OK. That I cannot continue to worry about the chance that fate or chance or some malevolent god or goddess will take them because I’m keeping myself from really being here with them.
I’m not at all sure how to give myself permission to relax and enjoy my/our life, but it’s really positive to have it stated out loud to me in these simple terms. It was like a purging of a huge weight of stress to tell him (and you, here, now that the dam has broken) why I’m afraid of surrendering to the moment.
Having all this aired out and opened, having a concrete and simple plan of attack is so comforting. The details of the Fix Heidi’s Brain via escaping from its labyrinthine clutches are embarrassingly small and simple. I won’t reveal them now, because I need to go get s’mores ingredients and dance around a fire.
*Wow. Very cool. Someone on one of my 1,000 crunchy mama blogs said she was waiting for her to nurse the baby, and I so think they should have had a nursing scene. Would've been very moving to see this miracle mama nurse her little new baby. Have you ever met anyone more obsessed with boobs who is not a 16 year old male? Anyway, it made me want to become a cool old midwife with dreadllocks who says Shanti alot. I love the word shanti (peace.) If we ever get another dog Shanti's her name in my imagination. Dharma & Shanti & Bailey, who I wanted to name Coffee.