Dear Lorenzo,
It's 11:25 p.m. and I'm up, watching The Goldbergs and waiting for the Tylenol PM to kick in.
Having started my day at around 5:00 a.m., I am completely exhausted. It's Sunday, so there was no earthly reason for me to be up at that time, except for the fact that I'd had a bad dream and was loath to return to it.
Last night I dreamt that you had been gone for a really long time, before coming home, unannounced, to Amira and I. Instead of being happy that you'd finally returned, we were frantic, maniacally trying to clean an upended house in the fruitless attempt to convince you that all was as it had once been.
I woke up feeling...dejected. Not because it was just a dream and there's no chance of you coming home again but...because, I truly believe that if you could see me now, you'd be nothing but disappointed in me and that breaks my fucking heart.
Sometimes...most of the time, I'm ashamed of how far I've fallen since losing you. It's not like I'm a drug addict or a child abuser or anything like that but...I've spent so much of the past few years curled up in a ball, trying to pretend you weren't gone that...I let a lot of life pass me by. I'm working hard not to be that person anymore. I spent weeks getting my resume together, registering with various temp agencies, and even worked an assignment over the holiday season (my first PAID job since having Amira!) I'm applying to grad school for the Fall, am back to working out every, single day and am beginning to tackle the emotional eating I've used to fill the hole in my heart that's developed since you've been gone. I know I'm not where I was when you first left us but...I also know I have a long way to go.
The good news? After "indulging" in an all day pity party, I eventually woke up. I did a load of laundry, got on the elliptical machine, and finished my squats and lunges while talking Oscar fashion with your mom.
I fell down today but I didn't stay down and that's a pretty big victory for me.
The thing is, I may be right. You may be looking down on me right now with disgust and anger at who I've become but...I'm doing my best to get my life back together again. I may not be exactly who I was when you were here but...I'm still a good person who's trying my damnedest to raise a smart, compassionate, self-possessed, African-American woman, and despite my many flaws, I think I'm doing a pretty good job. I love you, Lorenzo, I always will but no matter how much I want to make you proud, the opinion that will always mean the most to me...has got to be my own.
Sunday, February 24, 2019
Saturday, February 23, 2019
Dolo
Dear Lorenzo,
It's 11:18 p.m., Saturday night, and I'm up, watching Smelly Belly TV with your big-headed, needs-to-hurry-up-and-take-her-ass-to-sleep daughter. On nights like this I wish I'd never allowed you to extend her weekend bedtime to "whenever the hell she conks out in front of the TV" but since I am unwilling to take from her any tradition that the two of you once shared, alas...here we are.
Today was another good day.
I woke up at 6:00 a.m., put a load of laundry in, detangled my dense forest of hair, and then made pancakes and beans and rice for Amira to eat during the long hours in which I'd be at the hairdresser. After I finished cooking I worked out on the elliptical, showered, dressed, and headed to the salon with Amira in tow, as she'd decided at the last minute to tag along. Once there I had my hair cut, colored and flat-ironed. (It's reddish brown now and if you were here you'd absolutely hate it but you know how self-conscious I am about the grays, and I desperately wanted a change, and seriously babe, it's my hair, so you can just suck it!)
So today was a good day, but as usual, nighttime is hard. During the day motherhood keeps me busy enough to not have to deal with the fact that you're gone but at night...
That's when reality sets in.
I have friends who have also lost their partners unexpectedly and some of them are dating again but...I'm not there yet. I have no desire to find somebody new. I have no desire for anyone who isn't you. Is that strange? You've been gone for almost 3 years now but...I'm still not ready.
And if I'm to be totally honest here, missing you is not the only reason that I'm not "putting myself out there" and starting to date again. If being with you for so long has taught me anything it's that being in a relationship is hard fucking work and...my life is difficult enough right now. I already have one human being (besides myself) that I am 100% responsible for and frankly, I don't want another. And so for now, I'll continue to go through life on my own. Maybe one day I'll be ready to get back out there but...that day is not today.
It's 11:18 p.m., Saturday night, and I'm up, watching Smelly Belly TV with your big-headed, needs-to-hurry-up-and-take-her-ass-to-sleep daughter. On nights like this I wish I'd never allowed you to extend her weekend bedtime to "whenever the hell she conks out in front of the TV" but since I am unwilling to take from her any tradition that the two of you once shared, alas...here we are.
Today was another good day.
I woke up at 6:00 a.m., put a load of laundry in, detangled my dense forest of hair, and then made pancakes and beans and rice for Amira to eat during the long hours in which I'd be at the hairdresser. After I finished cooking I worked out on the elliptical, showered, dressed, and headed to the salon with Amira in tow, as she'd decided at the last minute to tag along. Once there I had my hair cut, colored and flat-ironed. (It's reddish brown now and if you were here you'd absolutely hate it but you know how self-conscious I am about the grays, and I desperately wanted a change, and seriously babe, it's my hair, so you can just suck it!)
So today was a good day, but as usual, nighttime is hard. During the day motherhood keeps me busy enough to not have to deal with the fact that you're gone but at night...
That's when reality sets in.
I have friends who have also lost their partners unexpectedly and some of them are dating again but...I'm not there yet. I have no desire to find somebody new. I have no desire for anyone who isn't you. Is that strange? You've been gone for almost 3 years now but...I'm still not ready.
And if I'm to be totally honest here, missing you is not the only reason that I'm not "putting myself out there" and starting to date again. If being with you for so long has taught me anything it's that being in a relationship is hard fucking work and...my life is difficult enough right now. I already have one human being (besides myself) that I am 100% responsible for and frankly, I don't want another. And so for now, I'll continue to go through life on my own. Maybe one day I'll be ready to get back out there but...that day is not today.
Friday, February 22, 2019
I'm Coming Back
Dear Lorenzo,
It's 11:59 p.m. and I should be asleep but I made myself a promise to write every, single, day. I made myself a promise not to waste another precious second NOT doing the things that I love most and so...even though I'm exhausted, even though I have to wake up at 5:00 a.m. to detangle my hair, start the laundry, and workout before my 10:30 a.m. hair appointment, even though I'd love nothing more than to cuddle up next to our sleeping daughter while watching the Goldbergs or Brooklyn 99...I'm writing to you instead.
Today was a good day.
A really, really good day.
It's not like I did anything particularly special. I woke up, got the kid off to school on time, went grocery shopping, did my mom's taxes, talked to my friends on facebook.
But there was one thing that made the day unlike any other I've had since you've been gone.
I lived my life with purpose today.
I purposefully stayed in the dining room and kitchen, cooking, cleaning and reading, my bedroom door shut firmly in an attempt to avoid the magnetic pull my bed has had over me for the past 2 and 1/2 years.
I purposefully stayed on the elliptical for an hour instead of watching NFL Live or the Game Show Network or anything Jussie Smollett related from the comfort of the futon.
I purposefully stayed away from the wine, the crackers and the cheese aisles at the grocery store and steered myself towards the produce section instead.
The antidepressant I'm on...it helps a lot, but...it's up to me to do the hard work. It's up to me to put down the remote control, to not buy the bag of chips, to workout instead of spending my day in bed. Nobody's going to do this for me. It's up to me to get on with my life.
It's 11:59 p.m. and I should be asleep but I made myself a promise to write every, single, day. I made myself a promise not to waste another precious second NOT doing the things that I love most and so...even though I'm exhausted, even though I have to wake up at 5:00 a.m. to detangle my hair, start the laundry, and workout before my 10:30 a.m. hair appointment, even though I'd love nothing more than to cuddle up next to our sleeping daughter while watching the Goldbergs or Brooklyn 99...I'm writing to you instead.
Today was a good day.
A really, really good day.
It's not like I did anything particularly special. I woke up, got the kid off to school on time, went grocery shopping, did my mom's taxes, talked to my friends on facebook.
But there was one thing that made the day unlike any other I've had since you've been gone.
I lived my life with purpose today.
I purposefully stayed in the dining room and kitchen, cooking, cleaning and reading, my bedroom door shut firmly in an attempt to avoid the magnetic pull my bed has had over me for the past 2 and 1/2 years.
I purposefully stayed on the elliptical for an hour instead of watching NFL Live or the Game Show Network or anything Jussie Smollett related from the comfort of the futon.
I purposefully stayed away from the wine, the crackers and the cheese aisles at the grocery store and steered myself towards the produce section instead.
The antidepressant I'm on...it helps a lot, but...it's up to me to do the hard work. It's up to me to put down the remote control, to not buy the bag of chips, to workout instead of spending my day in bed. Nobody's going to do this for me. It's up to me to get on with my life.
Friday, February 15, 2019
Second Chances
Dear Lorenzo,
Right now it's 8:06 p.m. and I'm wide awake, talking to you, and NOT watching TV.
This is progress.
I don't want to be unhappy anymore.
Yesterday was tough because it was a day of realizations.
There are so many things to miss about you. I miss feeling your arms wrapped around me in the middle of the night. I miss screaming at you to turn the music down when I'm trying to get Amira to sleep. I miss your over-the-top exuberance every time the Bears won a game. But I think I've spent so much time vacillating between denial and depression that the reality of single motherhood is only now starting to sink in.
You've been gone for over two and half years.
I no longer have the luxury of depression.
I can no longer afford to just sit around the house missing you. Missing you does not pay the bills. Missing you does not secure financial freedom for Amira and I. I have to do that. I have to figure out a way to make a life, a LIVING and a future for our family.
Burying myself in comforters and getting lost in the game show network is no longer an option for me. I am now the sole breadwinner and so despite what both of our mothers say, I have to hurry up and get a full time job. Not just a job, a career.
But this time around, I'm going to choose a career I really love.
Last Fall, I went to an information session at Depaul University and they have a creative writing/teaching program that I fell in love with.
And so I'm going to apply.
Lorenzo, I don't want to doubt myself anymore. I don't want to keep shooting down my dreams before I've even given them a fair chance. I want to see if I can find a way to make a career for myself doing the only thing I've ever actually loved. I want to figure out if it's possible for me to be happy again, even though you're no longer here. And I want to show our daughter that even when life kicks the shit out of us, it's never too late to get back up and try again.
Right now it's 8:06 p.m. and I'm wide awake, talking to you, and NOT watching TV.
This is progress.
I don't want to be unhappy anymore.
Yesterday was tough because it was a day of realizations.
There are so many things to miss about you. I miss feeling your arms wrapped around me in the middle of the night. I miss screaming at you to turn the music down when I'm trying to get Amira to sleep. I miss your over-the-top exuberance every time the Bears won a game. But I think I've spent so much time vacillating between denial and depression that the reality of single motherhood is only now starting to sink in.
You've been gone for over two and half years.
I no longer have the luxury of depression.
I can no longer afford to just sit around the house missing you. Missing you does not pay the bills. Missing you does not secure financial freedom for Amira and I. I have to do that. I have to figure out a way to make a life, a LIVING and a future for our family.
Burying myself in comforters and getting lost in the game show network is no longer an option for me. I am now the sole breadwinner and so despite what both of our mothers say, I have to hurry up and get a full time job. Not just a job, a career.
But this time around, I'm going to choose a career I really love.
Last Fall, I went to an information session at Depaul University and they have a creative writing/teaching program that I fell in love with.
And so I'm going to apply.
Lorenzo, I don't want to doubt myself anymore. I don't want to keep shooting down my dreams before I've even given them a fair chance. I want to see if I can find a way to make a career for myself doing the only thing I've ever actually loved. I want to figure out if it's possible for me to be happy again, even though you're no longer here. And I want to show our daughter that even when life kicks the shit out of us, it's never too late to get back up and try again.
Thursday, February 14, 2019
Morning bitchfest
Dear Lorenzo,
It's 4:45 a.m., February 14, 2019 and I'm sitting in bed, talking to you, while our nine year old lies beside me sleeping peacefully.
Although it is not yet 5:00 a.m. I should already be up and out of bed. I need to wash a sink full of dishes, make and pack Amira's lunch and finish folding up the valentines she neglected to take care of last night.
It's been an incredibly rough week.
Being a single mom is brutal.
Lorenzo, I had no fucking idea.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a moron.
We all know how hard it is to be a single parent, IN THEORY, but doing this job, day in and day out, on my own...
I never could have imagined just how hard it really is.
I caught a nasty cold last week and was laid up in bed for days on end but guess what? Someone still has to feed our daughter. Someone still has to make sure she takes her asthma medications twice a day, that she gets her funky butt into the shower at nighttime, that she eats her rice and beans for dinner and doesn't sneak too many potato chips when she knows I'm not looking and that someone is ALWAYS going to be me. No matter how sick, tired or just plain over it I am. Someone still has to hold down the fort.
Sometimes I hate being that someone.
The only someone.
The single parent.
I love our daughter, I love our life, I'm so blessed to have an amazing support system of friends and family but...being a single parent is exhausting nonetheless.
It's 4:45 a.m., February 14, 2019 and I'm sitting in bed, talking to you, while our nine year old lies beside me sleeping peacefully.
Although it is not yet 5:00 a.m. I should already be up and out of bed. I need to wash a sink full of dishes, make and pack Amira's lunch and finish folding up the valentines she neglected to take care of last night.
It's been an incredibly rough week.
Being a single mom is brutal.
Lorenzo, I had no fucking idea.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a moron.
We all know how hard it is to be a single parent, IN THEORY, but doing this job, day in and day out, on my own...
I never could have imagined just how hard it really is.
I caught a nasty cold last week and was laid up in bed for days on end but guess what? Someone still has to feed our daughter. Someone still has to make sure she takes her asthma medications twice a day, that she gets her funky butt into the shower at nighttime, that she eats her rice and beans for dinner and doesn't sneak too many potato chips when she knows I'm not looking and that someone is ALWAYS going to be me. No matter how sick, tired or just plain over it I am. Someone still has to hold down the fort.
Sometimes I hate being that someone.
The only someone.
The single parent.
I love our daughter, I love our life, I'm so blessed to have an amazing support system of friends and family but...being a single parent is exhausting nonetheless.
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