Chasing My Blessings

After Bill died, my love became trapped deep inside of me. I couldn't see a way for it to ever be freed. I wanted so badly to be able to give it to someone and was afraid that would never be possible. I feared I wouldn't be able to ever let anyone in again. My heart had been so broken that I had warranted it beyond repair. A million pieces scattered amongst the ruins of of an unfathomable tragedy. They told me it would happen. I didn't believe them. And to be perfectly honest, there was an element of fear in loving another man. I didn't think I could handle another loss again, if that were to happen. I remember talking to my mother a few weeks after Bill died and telling her that I thought I was also dying. At the time I was feeling all the physical effects of traumatic loss and it was more than my body could physically handle. Over the next several months, and with the help of lots of trauma release therapy, my body slowly recovered and I got my energy back an...

Dear Bill, Where the hell are you? We were supposed to do this together. Raising children was a mutual decision. And we were a great team. And then nine years and three kids in, you were taken away. Most days I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders from doing this alone. This widowed parenting thing is SO HARD. Somebody ALWAYS NEEDS SOMETHING. It is constant. And now I am the only one here to deal with it. I must hear "Mom," or "Mama," no less than 700 times a day. Someone is always whining. They bicker about the most ridiculous things. They want me to feed them ALL. THE. TIME. I don't remember the last time I took a shower without someone interrupting me because they need to poop, or they want a snack, or they are tattling on one of the others. And the questions. My God the questions. "Are we there yet?" "When is dinner?" What are we having for dinner?" "Can I have a friend over?" "Can we watc...