Sunday, January 11, 2015


I was going to write a post about Christmas.  About the joy on my toddler's face during the whole holiday season.  About how he memorized "The Night Before Christmas" because he insisted we read it daily.  About how our house looks like a toy store.  And about how we still (yes, two weeks into January) have our Christmas decorations up both because we are still wiped out from all the festivities and because every time we mention putting them away, the devastation on his face is heart-breaking. . . so we save it for another day.

I was going to write about all of that.  And then I didn't.

I didn't do a lot of things this year.  I didn't do any Christmas baking.  Heck, an illness in the family meant that I didn't even go to our family's Christmas dinner - instead, sending my husband to find the one pizza place open anywhere in the vicinity of our home.  I didn't have as much fun.

It wasn't one of my finest holiday seasons.  It just wasn't.  And I know that it was because I was still struggling.  Loss is hard, my friends.  It hits you where it hurts and even when you think you might be doing better, something happens when you least expect it and you are reminded like a shot to the gut.  It sucks the wind out of your lungs and brings stinging tears to your eyes.

I can't think of anything worse than that.

That said, where I find myself now is an interesting place - a place of limbo, of in-betweens and not-sures.  And that kind of sucks too - it sucks less for sure, but it still sucks.  I don't want to get ahead of myself.  I don't want to share what might not be real until I know, for sure, that it is.  I don't even want to think about the possibilities, the "what-ifs" lest crippling disappointment rear its ugly head.

And not sharing is hard.  After all of this, I want to shout the possibility of good fortune from the hilltops.  But I don't want to have to issue a retraction just in case.  So I wait. . . impatiently. . . this is not one of my strong suits.  Hence, this super-cryptic post.  I can share something, some of my feelings and struggles - even if no one is reading, it's out - without revealing too much.

If you are reading, and you've made it through all this rambling, incoherent mess, thank you.  In a few days, I will find myself out of limbo, on one side or the other.  Then I can share.  Then all of these cryptic words may be given some context.  Until then, thanks for listening.  Sometimes you just have to say something.  Anything.

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