Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Home Again.

Went away.
Ran in my race, 10 K.
Had a really nice time, mostly.

Missed my kids VERY much.
Took stupid amounts of pictures.

Spent time on the way home, knitting. looking at photography magazines, snapping pictures out the window of the van and praying to my own personal Higher Power that we would not crash into anything.

Friend who provided transportation, drove with one hand most of the time, when not drinking coffee or Pellegrino, eating chocolate, gesturing, trying to find the right cd or song or clapping both hands together when delighted about something.
All this, on an UNdivided highway, at speeds of 125 - 130 km/h.
(This picture was taken from the van when it slowed down to 80k/hr because there were horses loose on either side of the road. They were very, very close to the road. I am still surprised and grateful that we didn't hit one.)

If I spoke to her about anything, I was in the back seat, she would swivel to make eye contact with me.
At one point, coming off of a ramp, she decided to merge into a brief opening in the traffic, and in doing so, managed to make every unsecured thing in the vehicle, slam with force into the opposite side of the van.

And finally...
I like Steve Earle but not that much and not that loud.
When the pauses between songs would come, my ears would ring from the vacuum of noise.

More than happy to get home.
Alive.

All my kids missed me.
Monkey was very teary this morning, unusual for her to be emotional, and kept coming to me to be reassured with hugs.
Buddy kept grinning whenever he looked at me, and he did a lot, and told me he felt insecure while I was away.
The older kids too, made it plain that they were happy I was home, too.

This week, tomorrow even, our garage is supposed to be torn down.
A significant event.
Especially considering it is mostly still full of stuff.

Gave my husband a quiz to see if he was a workaholic - he scored 81% on it.

No, I am not surprised but I did cry because I felt a bit vindicated.
Try talking to someone about living with a workaholic.
There is usually less than no sympathy or understanding.

Over the years I have been told that I am too needy and perhaps ungrateful for what I have.
Where to go from here?

I don't know.
I woke up and wrote this out because my lower back was spasming.

So, I guess we will just have to wait and see.
Only, I'm a little, tiny bit worried that this will all be too little too late.

Probably not.
That is just the way I am feeling.

I keep thinking about the truth that "love is just not enough to fix what is broken."



Why yes, that is my lower back going into spasms.

6 comments:

FosterAbba said...

It's discouraging to realize that love is not enough. But it's even worse to realize that love, stability, therapy, education and never giving up don't seem to be enough either. It's a terrible thing to realize that we can't completely "fix" our children, no matter what we do.

Hang in there.

ipm said...

glad you are home safe... a driver like that woudl have made me think about getting out and walking!

no workaholics here; in fact I spent a good ten minutes hashing it out with Elle about her lack of ambition concerning school... oy! I'm so over being the homework nag...

like the pics... :))) good luck with the garage....

Granny said...

Sometimes no matter what, it's not enough.

I rode one time with a friend like yours. Never again.

Gus&Otto said...

I'm a wee bit of a workaholic. I don't know how my partner does it. I think that's why we've become engaged in doing so many activities together. It's the sucker-rope-in.

Angel The Alien said...

Sucks that workaholism doesn't seem to be considered as serious as Alcoholism or other Aholisms! Maybe you could join CoDa... They help you deal with people with ANY sort of aholisms! (and just difficult people in general I guess)

Bacchus said...

I'm glad you are home safe and sound.

I grew up with workaholics. It wasn't as bad for me as it was for my younger siblings. My parents got more wrapped in their work as they got older. My mother has gotten better but not by her own choice.

I hope that the two of you can find a shared voice to work this out. My thoughts are with you all.