Thursday, June 25, 2009

June ?, 2009

I'm in the hole

The kids...

They were up till 10:30 last night

having played video games for well over five hours, watched movies for three more hours.

The energy to care for them, having left me when my hysterical self lost it on the front porch at about 5:00 pm yesterday.

I tried to call people. People who know what loss is. But no one was home. (And Freddie from The Meadows School, I don't have your number. I wanted so badly to talk to you last night. Please email it to me!!! (

At 10:30 Langston asked when I would put them to bed.

I looked at the clock and said "Oh, I guess now."

But they did it all themselves. They didn't need to be told to brush their teeths. (Besides I really didn't care.) Ezra slept in his clothes, giggling with glee that I would allow that.

This morning at 9:00 when everyone was finally up, and thought I had pulled myself together, I announced they were gonna have to get their own breakfasts.

They did.

Only now we are out of cereal.

And strawberry jam.

I yell at them only if my solitude is interrupted with requests for food or to break up an argument.

Lunch happened becuase Langston got hungry and made ravioli.

I was too busy putting the world out of my mind, trying to transfer all my files from one computer to another and watching movies.

I did leave the house today.


To drive Langston to an appointment

that we were 30 minutes late for.

I drove wearing my pajamas

and my flip flops.

Hair a mess.

I don't think the kids had any fruit today. They for sure didn't get vegatables.

I don't care.

Dinner was just ordered (at 8:00 pm!) becuase Langston said he was hungry.

The kitchen is filthy. Yesterday and today's food reminents on the counter.

I have no energy to take care of them or myself.

I have no energy to think who to call.

And what would I tell them anyway?

"Oh Hi. Well I was wondering if you could come over while I fall apart. I may cry a bit, but mostly I'm going to ignore the world and bury myself in work and movies."

"Oh and I'm not sure how long this will last. So you may have to come back tomorrow and the day after that. Better yet, could you just take my kids? That way I can wallow in the mess myself."

"Oh and one more thing. I will sound and look fine. So I hope you don't expect a sobbing fool. It's not my style."

I hesitate to write this lest someone will tell me to buck up.

And my response would be:

You can't say jack (@)*$ until you have been where I am now.

Besides, I'm still alive. Granted I may not be functioning great now, but ya know who the hell says I need to hide this from my kids! Heck, Langston can walk to the store if they really want cereal tomorrow morning.

But in reality I would think somehow they would be right, even though I know it is not so. Being weak is not a trait many aspire to!

So do yourself, spare me the guilt, and don't waste your finger energy telling me to be strong for the kids or for myself. In a weird way, I think I am finding strength in falling apart.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring.

I suppose I will have to call someone if we want butter, apple juice, cereal and strawberry jam.

The pressure of getting all that together in the am literally makes me cry. I can't do shit, right now. Not shit.

And in a weird way, I'm proud of myself for finally letting go.


  1. Dammit, Kim, the East coast is far far away from L.A. otherwise I'd come right over and cook and clean. Although, don't beat yourself up. I think you're doing a great job working through the grieving process. You either do it now, or do it later with interest.

    Lots of love, (and probably a package of care and goodness) to you all,

  2. I hope you take what little comfort there is in this now sharp and cold world, in the fact that you are brave enough to let yourself fall apart. If people ask you to live, tell them it is already too painful that you are just existing. I wish I could give you a huge hug and take away the pain for only just a moment. Just a moment. But we both know that is not possible. You. Are. Doing. Fine. "When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on." Hang on to anything you can right now, even if its a dangling thread. Art will cheer you on.

    Lots of love & hugs.

  3. I believe that a person has to fall apart (sometimes partially or sometimes completely) before they can really start putting themself back together. It becomes the path of allowing yourself to feel and I mean REALLY FEEL the emotions of your experience. When you do, then it allows you to process the feelings. At which point you can move that icky energy out of your body. If not, those emotions can stay stuffed down inside your body somewhere where they can lie dormant and then eventually come back years later to kick you in the ass. So keep walking through it Kim. Fall apart, let the kids fend for themselves for a bit, keep walking through it and then put yourself back together. Put yourself back in a way that you want yourself to be. Just remember, glancing back is fine but focus on looking forward. It doesn't have to be far, maybe just as far as the next step you are going to take (it lessens the likely hood of tripping on something). Just keep walking through it my friend.
    Peace and Courage Girlfriend!

  4. I only have one kid but everything was about the same way (except with diapers) for a while.

    Email me direct (address on blog) and I will give you my phone number. I am a stranger, but I have SO been there. You can call ANY TIME.

    God, I remember those horrible days. But falling apart is somehow part of healing, I think. Maybe. At any rate, I could not stop it.



  5. BTW, technically speaking, there is no "math" of grieving (where you HAVE to grieve or you pay more later, or have a certain amount of crying you have to do). Rather I think of it as "the body knows" (listen to your body, grieving is natural) and also "the only way out is through" (what I thought during childbirth).

    So don't stress out if you have to do something else or don't feel like crying. It's a crazy road, as much as we might wish it to be different.



  6. I think people who say stupid things like "be strong" have no idea how to recognize strength. If they did, I have no doubt they'd see it in you...I certainly do in every word you type. You wake up every day, you love your family and fight for your own survival through your writing, and you go to sleep (eventually) at night. Sounds like strength to me.

    On a practical note, during my divorce (and now when it all seems too much!), was my best friend. Good fresh food and groceries (and a remarkably nice wine selection!) delivered to the door in 30 minutes. I can't recommend it highly enough...a real gem. They've seen me in my pj's with Kleenex stuck in my sleeve more times than I care to admit and never bat an eye. Look them up.

    With love, Genie

  7. What Sirius said...and I told you...I'd even do bathrooms.

    Sending you love,

  8. When my daughter was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis, I couldn't nurse her without sobbing, couldn't put her to bed, do anything without drenching her in my tears. I was guilt-ridden, afraid I would damage her little spirit for being weak, for letting my 4 month old see my heart break. But I think it was the best thing for us all. I had to let it out, deal with the grief of our new lives.

    I'm not comparing our situations, I've never lost someone so dear to me. I just wanted to let you know somethings I did to survive.

    To get by we used paper plates for a while, so we wouldn't have dishes on top of everything else. We ordered take-out a lot, and friends brought groceries. And I did the hardest thing ever, to ask people for help - and I still do sometimes. I told my friends when they go to Costco or Target to pick me up a few items, to help take the pressure off all the errands.

    We don't know eachother, but I live in Culver City (saw your post in Peachhead) and would be happy to do grocery shopping for you, make a Target run, or watch your kiddos, whatever you need. Elise