Losing Control

I was a major control freak. I had to know exactly what was going on, when it was going to happen and how it was going to go. I had to know what was being said, who said it and why. I needed to know where that bill money went, why wasn’t it paid last week?

I had to be in control of the kids doing their homework, I couldn’t miss a practice. Even if I was just sitting there. I needed to make sure you fed them what you were supposed too, did he drink enough water? What do you mean she hit her head? On what? When? How did it happen?

I had to be involved in everything. Team Mom, Classroom Volunteer, party planner, let’s do it at our house!

Then I realized that no matter how in control I was I still had no idea what was going on. I was a mess. Running in circles. I was juggling all of these things and I was about to drop everything.

Crash.

Get ready.

I was good at juggling; don’t get me wrong. I can totally toot my own horn because I was good at juggling. I ran a smooth household. Dinner was on the table. House was clean. We made a good team when it came to those things.

Call me Martha.

Just because things are being handled, doesn’t mean that you have control over them.

Just because you ask a bunch of questions doesn’t mean you’re being given the correct or truthful answers.

When all of my perfectly balanced plates finally crashed down off of their balancing sticks; I realized exactly how little control I had.

All of the things I had been telling myself were so untrue. It was a ridiculous moment. It was like Wow S where have you been the past 10 years? All of the things I said to make things seem ok suddenly seemed so ridiculous.

He isn’t smiling. Well, that’s because he’s tired. He worked too much. He hurt his baby finger.

Whatever.

He isn’t smiling because he’s miserable here. He doesn’t want to be here with us. The excuses had to stop. He was miserable. Period. He had enough sleep, he loved his job. His finger was fine. It was us. Or me. Or our life together.

The juggling had to stop and I had to take a look at what was going on right in front of my face.

I still want to cry thinking about it. It still all makes me so sad. He was my best friend. My partner for life.

For life. No matter what.

I had one job and it was to make him and the kids happy. I couldn’t do it. No matter how badly I wanted too or how hard I tried. I couldn’t do it. I felt like such a failure.

ONE JOB. One…

I had to face the fact that he didn’t tell me a lot of things. We didn’t communicate. We didn’t know how. We had taken a class. A whole weekend was spent learning how to communicate. We still couldn’t.

It was us.

We were broken. We had been broken before. Glued back together. We were like a glass vase. You can glue it back together again but if you’re missing that one little tiny piece it just can’t ever be the way that it was before. You can still see the cracks.

We had cracks. Things were starting to seep in through those cracks.

Lots of glue. Lots. It didn’t matter anymore. It was broken. We were broken.

Both of us. It takes two.

Now what?

Miss Control Freak had no idea. I didn’t know what was going to happen next. I had no idea what was coming our way. What would happen to the house? The kids? Us? Could we make it through this? Did I want us too?

It’s a feeling of panic. Of complete and total freak out. I lost it. My whole world caved in and I had no idea what was happening. My kids were different. We were having to move. My car. My job. Every aspect of my life. Different.

I am not exaggerating when I say every single teeny tiny aspect of our life changed or was changing.

Every. Teeny. Tiny. Thing. Different. Gone. Lost.

Found?

I didn’t know what tomorrow would be like. Heck I didn’t know what things would be like in an hour.

Sometimes I still don’t.

I am learning to embrace the chaos. The craziness that is my life. I don’t know what I’m bringing to the school party until the night before. Instead of planning it for 2 weeks and making sure it’s perfect, I’m running to Publix with my list at 9pm. It’s insane. It’s me. It’s my kids. It’s just us. We are on our own and we do things how we need to do them.

When I yell “we’re late!” no one freaks out, they all laugh. Because to be on time or to be completely prepared… Now that would be weird these days!

-S

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