Tuesday, August 16, 2011

A Reminder.

Yesterday, I woke up feeling defeated.

I woke up wondering if the toilet would unclog, or if I would have to find somewhere to board our cat for the day so that maintenance can come in and look at the plumbing. We had plans to go to the beach but after plunging the toilet for an hour the night before, then enlisting the help of a friend for another hour with none better results, I felt like the trip was out of our reach. It was supposed to be our one last trip before school starts next week.

Shortly after waking up, my phone chimed. Only one person sends me text messages at 6am, so my heart lifted a little. But instead of being a sweet "Good Morning!" message, it was from my bank. A "Good Morning, your account has less than $10 in it" message. Not so sweet. I pulled my laptop over and checked the account in more detail, only to realize I had forgotten about an automatic payment and seriously have screwed myself financially until the next payday. Oops.

My head was pounding. I had not slept well after reading two local news stories of children going missing. One was a child who went missing after it was determined that her mother would get full custody. This girl was eventually found with her father, but in a state that makes custody not a concern anymore. It broke my heart and plagued me with nightmares.

Yesterday, I was angry at myself for forgetting about the bill payment. I was anxious that the toilet was becoming a bigger problem than I could solve myself. I was sad for the mom who no longer get smiles from her daughter and even sadder for the father that thought there was no other solution.

When trying to unclog the toilet the night before, realizing I needed help was a smack from reality. Like a Gibbs to the back of the head, I realized that outside of my parents and a couple friends who were unavailable, there was no one I felt I could trust enough to call and ask for help. After a problem with a former friend, I don't let people know where I live easily, and with the massive purge I have been putting the house through, it is a wreck that I wouldn't want just anyone seeing. But unfortunately, a majority of the people I trust the most (with the exception of the people mentioned above) live out of state or country. I took a chance, contacted a friend that I figured was as trustworthy as I could get, and luckily was right. (But that is for another post.) But the fact still bothered me when I woke up yesterday. Most of the people closest to me are the ones who live the farthest away.

My phone chimed again. My former Mother-in-Law wanted to know if Agent M's great-grandma could watch him one day this week so he could play with his cousins. I never know what to say when she asks. I don't have a problem with it, generally speaking, but the weeks I have with Agent M are also the weeks for my parents to see Agent M. We plan each day to the hilt with fun. With this week being the last hurrah before school starts, each day is full. There literally is not a day that would work, but I still hate saying no, out of fear. It is my time with Agent M and I don't say no out of malice, but I always fear that his Dad will try to use each decline against me. I worry he will try to twist it into "you don't let my family see him", when it simply is not that. Mentally, I added the message to the ever growing pile of worry that seems to sit in the corner of my thoughts these days.

Yesterday, I was tired of time zones. Tired of distance and miles and oceans that were beyond my reach. I was frustrated with worrying over every move and comment I make. I was angry that my divorce is still not finalized and that a large chunk of my life feels is constantly waiting in limbo, playing in a chess game with a player who is not always fair. I was fed up with with the unspoken worries and wishes and all the waiting.

Then, I saw a post on Facebook from a cousin.

A friend of hers was asking for prayers.  Someone who I have not met, whose story I do not fully know. But the child they are adopting, who is already their's in their hearts, is in a place that no child ever should be in. The woman was asking for prayers for help speeding up the adoption process, to get her daughter to her new home for better care, better medical treatment.

My heart broke.

This woman and her family know time zones. Know of having divided time. A clogged toilet is nothing when your child is oceans and miles away.

Feeling selfish and defeated by everything, I finally broke down while making breakfast. I cried as the blender ran, glad that it is older and loud enough to cover the sobs I could not choke back. Agent M was sleeping peacefully upstairs. Even when apart, his other house is less than 15 minutes away. This mother had to go through security, customs, and car rides just to hold her daughter.

I have nothing to complain over. I have so much more to celebrate and be thankful for. Some of my loved ones might be far away, but they are still there for me. I might not trust many people, but my family is here for me. My time with Agent M might be crazy and prone to changes, but I still have it. As if to further reinforce this, one of my friends from overseas sent me a message soon after I broke down, wondering what was wrong and if there was any way from miles and miles away that he could help. My Mum came over and tried to fix the toilet, and got maintenance to come over shortly after that. (The problem is beyond his ability to repair, but it is logged and a company will be coming out to fix it soon.) Agent M woke up and came to me with smiles, hugs, and singing Beatles songs. How could I break down when I am so lucky?

The rest of the day was not exciting - we ran an errand, bought new fish, and did the tug-of-war dance of trying to get Agent M to clean his room with me. But nothing felt as big. The waiting, the wishes, the worries. They are all here. But so is my amazing son. Who builds forts in our living room, loves my cooking even when I burn dinner, and who took great delight in trying on all of his play clothes last night, as we sorted out what to sell and donate.

And today, we might try for the ocean. We might not. Either way, my toilet will still be clogged, and I will still be in limbo with my divorce. But Agent M just woke up and came running into my room, diving under the blanket I held out for him, singing songs about being a popsicle.

I am not defeated. I am beyond blessed and just lost sight for a day.

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