There was a time when I saw music in my head. As I fell asleep at night, I would listen to my iPod. I had a special “Sleeping Playlist” that I listened to each night. I became so familiar with the songs that I could see the music as I listened. Notes would dance across my closed eyes as I fell asleep. Their gentle movement up and down the staff lulled me to sleep. I drifted off as I became part of the music. My mind was clear, troubling thoughts rarely intruded to interrupt my slumber. It was just me and the music. I was at peace with myself and the world around me. That allowed me to appreciate the beauty and the composition of the music. Continue Reading »
Do I have a sleep disorder? Well, I do have fairly odd sleep patterns, but I’m not sure if I would classify them as a disorder. I would think that if something is a disorder then the condition would bother me or those who live with me. I’m not bothered at all, and those around me just roll their eyes. They’re used to it. They accept me for who I am, odd habits and all. Continue Reading »
I woke up this morning and asked T, “Who do you want today? Crazy Hyper Pam or the Pam Who Sleeps on the Couch?” I told him that he could make the call. He just laughed. I was only kidding, but he knew exactly what I meant. Continue Reading »
When I was a little girl, I hated to wake and find someone/anyone looking at me. If I was home sick from school, I was uncomfortable if my mother peeked into my room to check on me. I hated it if my parents would go out for an evening and come in my room to check on me late at night when they returned. Waking to find someone looking at me, even in love and caring, was upsetting to me. It made me feel vulnerable, weak, and helpless. Sleep was private. It was something I preferred to do alone, unbothered, and uninterrupted. Continue Reading »
I have been working on a blog post off and on all weekend. I’ll write a little bit, quit, come back again later, and write a little bit more. I feel like I should write about moving Andy to Chicago. It was a significant event in all of our lives. I have written out the facts and many of the emotions, but I can’t seem to bring it to any kind of conclusion. It feels like I am writing a report for school. “What It Felt Like To Move My Son Away From Home.” Bleh. It didn’t feel good. Sure, I am happy for him. Yes, it was a hassle. Yes, it was emotional, but it probably wasn’t any different or more significant than anyone else’s experiences. It was LIFE. It was simply another step into the next stage of all of our lives. The details aren’t what is important. The fact that the apartment was a mess doesn’t matter. It’s clean now. The fact that it was hotter than hell on moving day doesn’t matter. It’s cool now. I’m wearing a sweatshirt. What we had for dinner doesn’t matter. Where we stayed while in Chicago is insignificant. Those are the details that don’t matter in the long run. They are soon forgotten.
What matters is now and what is to come. What matters is the void that is left by the absence of my sons. What matters is that they are happy and adjust well to what lies ahead for them. I hope they are adjusting better than their mother. I’m sure they are.
Four days. We have had four days at home since Andrew moved. I am already sad in so many ways. I am shocked by the disruption in my own routine. I had thought to feel a sense of freedom and relief. Instead, I am feeling sad and lonely. I had hoped that T and I would look at each other with smiles on our faces and think of all the thing we could do together now.
Andrew and I had a routine of watching TV together before we went to bed. We would pick out something on Netflix and watch together. T would always be in the room, but he usually fell asleep within minutes of sitting down. I would sit on the couch with my laptop. I would usually be writing, working, or messing around on Facebook while we watched. Andrew would be across the room in the red chair. (It’s not even red, but for some reason everyone in the family calls it the “red chair.”) T would sit in the green chair. (It is green.) Now the red chair is empty.
The first night after moving Andrew, we ended up in our same places and turned on the TV. It was just T and I now. As we watched TV, something made me laugh. I looked up to smile at Andy, but he wasn’t there. I looked over to share it with T. Ugh…. What did I see? T sitting with his head thrown back, mouth hanging open, and sound asleep. My God. For over twenty years, I have looked at that! My heart just dropped. Now there was no one. The boys are gone. The girls were in bed. It was just T and I, which essentially means that I will sit alone in a room, or I can choose to sit in a room where he is sleeping. I know this routine. I know it all too well. I hate it.
I am tired. I am so tired of being the only one who tries. I am tired of trying to be entertaining so that he will stay awake. On Saturday afternoon, I caught him sleeping on the floor of the boys’ old room. He was supposedly in there cleaning, when Em came to get me. “Dad is laying on the floor and not moving. Would you please go check on him. I’m afraid.” I was, too! That sounded really strange, so I rushed upstairs to see if he was OK. Yep. Sleeping on the floor.
On Saturday night, I watched a History Channel documentary while he slept in the chair. He’s the one who turned it on. I wasn’t at all interested in it, but I thought if he made the choice, then maybe he would stay awake. He was out in less than 10 minutes.
Tonight Em asked me to watch a movie with her. We sat down and watched about half of it (T slept across the room) until her boyfriend called. He left yesterday for college in Wisconsin. Seems all the young men in our lives are gone! Emily was excited to hear about his day, so she went up to her room to take her phone call. She asked me to pause the movie so that we could watch the rest tomorrow.
There I sat. T was asleep, and I was wondering what to do. It was too early to go to bed. I’m a night owl. I wasn’t even tired. There was no one to talk to. I just sat there thinking, “This is it?? Is this really it? Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like?”
I know. It has only been four days, but I am having some really bad memories return. I remember years and years of this. When the kids were all little, my day was lonely after they all went to bed for the night. T may have been there, but he was inattentive and uninterested much like he is now. His daily after work routine consists of dinner, slot machines on Facebook, sit in the green chair, fall asleep.
To be honest, I am shocked. I didn’t think this was going to happen. I hadn’t given it an ounce of thought. Maybe it would be easier to understand this if I had anticipated it. I thought this was going to be a good push in the right direction for T and I. Instead, it seems like we were working well together in the interest of organizing and moving the boys, and now our partnership is over.
Today, I tried to have a good attitude. I tried to be good. I cleaned. I organized things. I shampooed the area rugs. I went shopping and bought a roast and fresh vegetables. I stood in the kitchen and cooked for hours. A roast, carrots, potatoes (two kinds,) fried apples, fresh rolls, fabulous homemade gravy. It took hours to cook, about 15 minutes to eat, and an hour to clean up the mess in the kitchen. At least there will be leftovers for dinner tomorrow night.
Of course, I have talked to T about these issues. There is no problem. He is happy. “What?? What’s so bad about sitting down to relax at the end of the day? I’m tired.” End of story.
Tomorrow I will be heading back to work, and I’m looking forward to it. Our next few weekends will be full, and I have a business trip to Charlotte later in the month that I’m excited about. I’m not sure if I am ready to putter around all day and then watch my husband sleep in a chair all night. I’m not ready to be an “old married couple.” Life is too precious and too short to spend feeling sad and lonely.
All evening, I have been wracking my brain. What can I do to change this? Four days, and I am feeling like a caged animal. Do I go back to playing in the band? Do I take another class? Maybe I’ll practice playing jazz piano. Maybe I’ll dig out the clarinet or the sax and get back up to speed. Maybe learn to play trombone? Maybe I’ll do some serious writing. I would have to set up an office. Maybe I’ll repaint all the rooms in the house. Maybe I’ll set up the loom and weave rugs again. I have too much energy to spend evening after evening like this. It seems that I have come full circle again. All of the things I can think of doing, I will have to do alone. Music, a class, home decor, all alone. I am once again looking at things and ways to fill that void.
Sad, and yes…feeling sorry for myself. Why is this so hard? It seems like all I really want is someone there to care. At the end of the day, I just want a friend. They don’t have to be exciting, just awake. They don’t have to entertain me, but just share a smile.