So, work was very stressful and this time of year for educators is like the energizer bunny on crack. It moves like lightening and keeps going and going and going and going... Seriously, it feels as if to-do lists only grow and now as an administrator my to-do list is new. I've never navigated the end of a school year as an administrator so most days I'm just winging it, trying to keep my building from imploding. Trying to support my teachers, but also ensure they are doing the best job they can for our kids. Trying to support my kids, some of whom are beyond the point of "done" and feel like no one cares. I have to convince them all (teachers and kids) that they are capable of creating magic! They truly are. Everyone is.
And then I come home from work, and yesterday I was sick as a dog, and the whole creating magic belief is gone for myself. I'm not capable of creating magic or else I would bring my husband back and my son and I would not be grieving. We would return to our happy selves. My little boy is depressed. Truly and utterly depressed and anxious. He's not the same boy he was before. I'm not the same mom I was before.
And it pisses me off that there is this definitive line in our lives: BEFORE MIKE and AFTER MIKE. Well I call BS! Why does there have to be this friggin' line? Why does it have to be CLEARLY evident that there is an "old" Conner and Veronica and a "new" Conner and Veronica?
Yesterday I wanted to run away. Yesterday I wanted to throw in the towel and remove myself from this life, here in the same place as "before", living the same career as "before" (irrelevant that it's a new job, it's still public education), leaving this house that is flooded with Mike and with our infinite reminders of our tragic loss. Yesterday I wanted to sell. Pack up and move as soon as possible. Start fresh. Loss is devastating. Grief is debilitating. Life in the state of depression/anxiety is crippling. And then people on the outside don't understand.
I wish I was financially and emotionally stable enough to homeschool my son and travel the world with him. To try to fill his childhood with as many wonderful memories as I possibly can because he has been robbed of so much. I wish I could go by a huge RV (the big bus kind), buy a curriculum, pack the RV full of what I know my son and I would need, and put the gearshift in drive.
I feel some days like I am hurting, not helping, when it comes to my son's and my own grief. I am sad here. I am lonely. I am miserable at least part of most days. And so is Conner.
We pray. We keep breathing. We hope. But we are constantly reminded in every photo, piece of furniture, nook and cranny of this house and farm. Even with new things like our couch, or in my Tahoe...places Mike has never graced with his presence, we still miss him. Simply because of that fact. He has never seen our Tahoe and he would have loved it. He has never sat on our new furniture and he would have napped on it daily probably. He has never seen me as a principal and he would be proud, and also think it was "hot"...lol.
And because of all of this, some days just SUCK. And on those days, I can barely function. I don't want to talk to people, I don't have energy, etc...
So to my friends and family, don't be offended by my lack of response or by my foul mood...my life is difficult. NO that does NOT mean I'm digging for "I'm sorry" or any other form of sympathy. My son and I are breathing, we have a home, I have a job, we have a vehicle, we have food and our health, etc...so all of my gratefulness is not gone.
Just some days suck more than others and yesterday was one of them. Hopefully today is better. But have patience and understanding. We lost our world. We are both just trying to navigate this new one and there are no maps or compasses to help. Thank God He is in control and not us.
I love you from the depths of my soul Michael Richard Hollis. I miss you. And so does our boy. Desperately.
Today we will try to make better than yesterday.
NFAxI
#stillhis
Love,
Veronica
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