So where do I go from here? I am completely lost ... for the moment. Do I keep blogging about my dead dad and other dead relatives? I know this may sound a bit crude but hey, this is my reality right now. Do I just quietly slip away into blog oblivion? I need to keep writing but my dad has died and screwed up everything. I think I may be entering the anger phase of grief. What do you think?
Maybe Butts and Ashes isn’t my “book” after all. Maybe it’s just a chapter. Even this idea makes me mad today. I had things figured out for once. I was going to finally get all those things I had meant to write down written down. I had plenty of time. My dad gave me daily material. It was going to be great. Well, it’s not so great right now. It sucks.
I don’t feel clever or witty or anything good only tired. I feel sad and disappointed and angry. I am not really sure who I am angry with but I have a sneaking suspicion it might be myself. I have been accused in the recent past of having empty nest syndrome. I can assure you this is not even close to the truth … in the normal sense of the term anyway. Six of my seven children have flown the coop and I am ready for the seventh to do the same someday. I like seeing my children independent and happy, standing on their own two feet.
I think I am feeling something worse than child-free. I think I am feeling butt free. I have run out of old people to care for. The older generation of this family appears to now include me. What the heck? When did this happen because I am not liking it one single bit. I have spent the greater part of my adult years caring for someone older. Now what? Several well-meaning people have said to me in the last few days, “Now it’s time to take care of you.” I have no idea what that even means. Maybe that is why I feel so angry with myself. How can you live in a body for fifty-one years and not understand how to take care of it? How is it possible to go through life for five decades and not ever figure out who you are or what you need to feel really taken care of by yourself? Maybe my sisters are right. Maybe I do need medication and therapy.
I have a great life. I have a husband that adores me and is my very best friend ever. I have awesome kids and wonderful grandchildren. I have some of the most amazing family members and friends a person could ever hope for. I live in a beautiful place surrounded by my beloved animals. I have more than most and more than I deserve. So what’s to be unhappy about?
Ok, I think I have now officially slipped from anger to full blown feeling sorry for myself mode. Somebody, please slap me.