No one, not even me (and I love to plan for the worst and hope for the best), could have predicted the last 3.5 months. My husband was unceremoniously yanked from his job and sent on a deployment. We got less than 24 hours notice and he was gone. Whoops.
That left me completely unsure of where I would be over the next several months. I’m already the type of person who takes on more than they can reasonably handle, and the sound of shattering glass seems to be echoing in my ears. I can’t shake it. The sound of broken commitments, a fractured ego, and splintered hearts haunts me in every quiet moment.
It feels like I have been writing these posts more and more often since I started going back to school. Truth be told, I frequently wonder if quitting school would restore some of my sanity. (Spoiler alert. It totally would.) More times than I could count since the end of February, I’ve let my kids down. I’ve let myself down. I’ve forgotten things, missed events, bungled times for sports and meetings, and stopped taking care of myself at all for weeks at a time.
I need the degree to teach, so it stays. Swimming lessons are important, they stay. Teaching experience is important, so my job as a substitute teacher stays. Over and over, I went through each responsibility. Each obligation. Pruning what I could, re-prioritizing what I couldn’t.
The last few months have been a blur and I feel like I don’t even recognize the person in the mirror most days. When I even see her. I came to visit my writing bestie, Hallie Jules, so our kids could entertain each other while we put our heads together. We had a ton of plans that were disrupted by my sudden absence from the internet. With the end of the semester and the end of my kids’ school year, it feels like I have a moment to breathe. And plan.
More than just my time management was slaughtered over the last few months. I haven’t written or read for pleasure since February, outside of an audiobook I put on in the car for my kids. It’s about time I get back to doing that before the last few shreds of my sanity are incinerated by the fires of responsibility.
For the first time in forever, I have a plan that doesn’t involve losing sleep, setting aside what I love, or rearranging my house in desperation to fill the void my missing husband left behind while I listen to this week’s homework assignments through the audio accommodation app the school provided me with. ← Can you believe I just wrote a sentence that long?! Jeez, I must be getting rusty.
There are exciting plans in the works for Hallie and me. With any luck, I will also finally get back to what I wanted to be doing this whole time. Finishing my writing projects rather than editing the same three chapters over and over and over. Enjoy this little slice of lemon life while I reorganize my shit for what feels like the jillionth time. (Yes, I did just make that word up.)
My mother’s lessons never stuck with me. They were always rooted in complaints. But my grandmother, her lessons were always tied to a story. Her favorite moral was “be careful what you wish for”. I wish I had heeded her advice.
~
After cleaning the playroom for the fifth time, the heavy sigh that escapes my lips has a physical weight to it. My husband is gone, not for the first time, to a place I cannot follow. It is all I can do to contain the chaos of our home.
“Mom? Are you up there? I need your help!”
A refrain I would not miss when Clark returns. I rack my brain, realizing my oldest mentioned a school project due tomorrow. If only he’d told me about it when the assignment went out last week.
“I just need to get some supplies from the craft room!” I call down, heading in to gather leftover poster board, construction paper, and markers. I pause at one of my favorite statues, one of many scattered around my home. Athena stands proudly in my crafting room, spear and shield raised in victory, or maybe defiance. I rest my hand for a moment at her feet. “Sometimes, I think I’m the one who needs a wife. I wish there were two of me. Maybe then I would not be so deeply exhausted.”
The light of the setting sun glitters off the shield as I tug the door closed with my foot, arms full. When I reach the bottom of the stairs to find my dopplegänger waiting, I nearly pass out.
~
When Clark returns home, my dopplegänger does not vanish. Instead, I have learned to share my children with a second mother, who seems to have all of my patience and none of my temper. The goddess may have granted my wish, but even she could not make something from nothing.
I watch as the kinder parts of my personality swoon over Clark, my temper a spark away from ignition. My children rally around the fake me and I cannot help feeling even more exhausted than I was before she appeared. She is me, better than even I can be. My heart squeezes in my chest as I watch her reap the rewards of my hard work.
The fear I felt before, of only being loved when I’m at my best, resurfaces with a vengeance. I open my mouth to speak, to draw their attention back to me, but nothing comes out. My double speaks with my stolen voice, drowning my wish for life to return to normal. A lightness overtakes me, and I see my body vanishing as tears spill from my fading eyes.
This story was one I wrote for a flash fiction assignment in my class. “Out of House and Home” was the prompt, with the inspiration being fairy tale magic born of everyday life. Not so sure the magic was happy, but it’s a good reflection of how I’ve felt these past months. Can’t wait to share what Hallie and I are working on soon!
xo
Grace
