Life Is Hard

As if you didn’t know that. Before anyone comes around and says that life is what you make it (true) I will venture to say, that hard doesn’t always mean horrible. 

For instance, October is one of my most favorite months of the year. It’s when I got married, when the leaves start changing, and it starts Holiday Quarter as I love to call it. However, THIS October. It’s been slapping me around and trying to make me its, well, you know. 

Mr. Houseful and I celebrated 10 years of wedded bliss. Nathaniel got accepted into four of the colleges that he’s applied to, and Lil Miss got sick. All of these instances have given me highs and lows, but for very odd reasons. 10 years of marriage has seemingly gone by in the bat of an eye. I’ve gone back and watched my wedding video and realized that there are now some people who were at my wedding who are no longer here to celebrate with us, OR who were in my wedding, who no longer WANT to celebrate with us. Both of those things hurt, but neither of them are my fault. I’m still married to the guy that I walked down the aisle to. We are still growing each and every day as a unit, and we’re better than we were on that fall day ten years ago. THAT’S what counts in this story. 

Nathaniel got accepted to 4 of the colleges that he has applied to so far. This is one that’s actually quite difficult for me to wrap my head around. I thought that once I got to this point in life, I’d be the beaming mother. Instead I’m sad. Make no mistake, I’m SO PROUD of him, and the work that he’s doing on a daily basis, but at my core, I’m sad. I’m sad that life goes by FAST. I’m sad that my sister (it always comes back to that darn Jessica) and my Granny Blackburn, and both grandfathers won’t be able to see him graduate, and he won’t get to have them at his graduation. Yes, I know that some people feel that their spirits are here and looking down on us, but I’d rather have the warm bodies than the spirit realm at this time. I find myself not wanting to talk about Senior portraits, prom, or any other thing that seniors are taking part in. Because if I don’t talk about it, it won’t happen, right? Shut up and let me continue lying to myself. Keeping with tradition, I don’t have a photo of Nathaniel because he’s the elusive teenager. 

Lil’ Miss got sick again. This time, she ended up being admitted to ICU and we were out of town celebrating our anniversary. For a moment, I became frustrated because this was the first time in TWO YEARS that Mr. Houseful and I had gotten away from the perils of the world and work, and the weather bopped Lil Miss hard enough where she couldn’t breathe. And then I felt guilty. Guilty for wanting time alone with my husband. Guilty for wanting to be able to just enjoy five days free from any type of issues in the household. Guilty for just having feelings. 

Lil Miss is out now, and she’s doing better, still wheezing, but not struggling to breathe. We survived the hospital and the constant interruptions throughout the night. We survived doses of steroids and Albuterol treatments. We survived going to the bathrooms with tubes attached everywhere, and the very sterile conversation that some medical personnel use. For the most part, every nurse and doctor that we came into contact with were amazing and warm. She left the hospital thanking people as the dust was dying down at her running out of that joint. 

Of course, that darn Jessica showed up in my thoughts while we were in the hospital. You see, Jessica was a chronic asthmatic and ended up in the hospital so often that the nursing staff from EVERY SHIFT knew her by name. Because my mother worked at the hospital, her coworkers knew to expect Jessica to be in the hospital often, and that she wasn’t just making stuff up. It’s a place that I don’t think my heart can handle. It’s HARD doing hospital stays. It’s hard on the person IN the hospital, and hard for those loved ones who are supporting the patient. With Lil Miss only being six years old, we needed to stay there with her around the clock, because we just did. I know that’s not optimal for all parents, and I realize the privilege that Mr. Houseful and I both have with having jobs that are flexible. There were so many little ones who didn’t have family coming at all to see them, or whose family could only come after putting in 8+ hours at their jobs, my heart just broke. 

I’m not sure what I’m trying to get at. Lately these days, my words have been failing me, and I’ve been having a LOT of thoughts that I want to get down on paper. To share with the world. This also lets me know that it’s about time for me to start monthly therapy sessions again. So much stuff is happening all at once, and I can’t process the way that I want to. 

I’m still here though. Putting one foot in front of the other.