Autumn has long been my favorite season. I love the colors and the chill in the air. It is time to dig out the warm comfy clothes and enjoy hot cocoa snuggled in on the sofa. In Norway that means we've already had our first touch of snow as well. Talk has turned to refleksvest, shorter days, and julebord. For a culture of natural social distancers, Norwegians know how to have a proper get together. Their Julebord and social gatherings are events sure to drain even an extroverts social battery. Recently, we were able to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the opening of one of the Children's International School campuses. It was a great night filled with music, laughter, great food, and people catching up with those they hadn't seen in months. This event also served as a reminder for all the talent we have within our staff. Often you see the results of teachers' hard work in their students without ever seeing their passions on display. This evening I was able to listen to music teachers sing and play instruments. We really need to find more excuses to highlight these talented people. After the celebration I had a great chance to catch up with someone I have needed time with for too long as we rode the train to Oslo together. You know those people you simply must have in your life because they inspire you to be a better version of yourself? Yeah, she's a keeper. Afterward, I met NBF in Oslo for a ride home so I didn't have to stay on the train for another hour and a half. He spent some of the evening in Oslo doing street photography. I am really enjoying watching his skills grow and seeing the world through his lens. It amazes me even when we walk together the different view we have of the same place. For his birthday, I bought him one of the big lens balls he has been looking at for months. I am excited to see what he imagines when he takes it out for photographing. Turns out that might have been one of my last "forced" train rides. Don't misunderstand. Public transport here is nice, and you can bus/train anywhere you need to go with minimal walking. I can use wifi and charge devices the entire way, although it can be pricey. In the last week, I spend well over 2000 kroner ($235) on train rides for work functions. The scheduling is another big sticking point. On days that I need to ride the train to work, I have to ride south to Oslo and then back north to Jessheim. This 5 am adventure gets me to Jessheim in time to walk to work and arrive at about 7:40. That is a big time investment compared to a 45 minute drive. Seriously, though, I really don't mind the train, but a week of traveling to work and home by train showed me that is not sustainable. I have been working on switching my license, but as you know, Norwegian bureaucracy runs at the pace of cold syrup and covid chilled that even more. November 30th was the cutoff for switching my license before I needed to start over and take all the required courses of a new driver. Already, waiting for the second year requirements, I paid over 14000NOK (about $1700) to take the courses and tests required for my license. I certainly did not want to have to add even more cost to this. On top of this pressure, if I failed my driving test on October 29, I would have to wait four weeks to test again and would be out of time to test. And in case you are wondering as I did, covid is no excuse, so there will be no extensions. Now, all the money aside, I do have to say the classes are useful, and I think the states could learn something from Norway in this regard. I had to take a road first aid class that came with the graphic description of my requirements should I wound and not kill an animal with my car. I watched rather graphic videos of high speed crashes and practiced hands on first aid. I will have to drive in the dark. I say "will have to" because the long summer nights make this course unavailable until November. The good news is that you can still get your license issued needing to fulfil this course requirement. I also completed a slippery roads course. This Norwegian Ninja Warriors of a driving course comes complete with a foam moose and pedestrians, of which I managed to kill two. There are slick conditions simulated with oil, water, and a packed snow type terrain. A helpful worker even reapplies the oil while the cars are driving through to ensure an accurate experience. The road is marked with measurements and a radar to tick your time. If you don't want to drive 60 kph (about 40 mph) on the "snow", then the driving instructor will use his gas pedal to ensure you do anyway. It was very helpful to see the difference even 3 kph can make when you are driving on slick roads, and even though I know stopping distances, it was eye opening to see numbers and experience the stop. At one point, I was asked if I knew what happened if someone pulled the emergency brake while I was driving. Of course, the brakes lock and I lose control. Are you sure? Quite. Well, let's find out if you're right. Wait...what?! Find out??? You know that crazy motherfucker actually sped us up to pull the E-brake so I could experience that?!?! Jesus Christ on a pogo stick. But yes, a very useful course to attend. I wish all drivers had this experience. While I waited for my testing day, I was free to practice drive....as long as I had an extra rearview mirror for the experienced driver passenger and a big red L on the back of the car to designate me as a loser..uh learner. I think we did this a grand total of four times. I am not even sure I can fully explain the pressure and stress I felt at this entire situation. I am beyond tired of asking for rides or people to wait for me so I can go about my life. Come at me with pEoPle wAitiNg foR You iS NoT a Big DeAl, but if you don't have anxiety, your opinion means fuck all. This is next level stress and worry for me. The last thing I needed was to be an inconvenience to people. Even if said person told me, "I don't care if you don't like it. I will come and get you or wait for you if I fucking want to." So at least we are at the same level of stubborn about this situation. The last straw for me was when NBF and Bonus Kid 2 were going to have to wait for three hours while I took my last lesson and drive test. I lost my shit and told him just go home. I know where the train is when I am done. Not to mention, I really did not want to face him when I failed. There, I said it....when. I had seen enough FB posts in my Americans in Norway group and heard enough stories from American friends about people (read foreigners) failing five or six times to know that I shouldn't be over confident or really even hopeful at all. During my last lesson, I was literally shaking and when he led me through town pointing out all the potential pitfalls, my heart sank. Even though the instructor ensured me I had done nothing that would warrant failure and drove like I had experience, when the examiner called my name, I could have thrown up. We sat in the car to discuss the test and for her to ask my two computer generated technical questions. I had to turn on the four way flashers, check that they worked, and explain their use. The drive was about an hour long, and she would simply say follow the road to _____. It was up to me to navigate the exits, roundabouts, and traffic from there. When we returned, she said, "Okay we are done, and I am satisfied. They will help you inside and I will send you a letter to your digital post." Two years later, I am happy to report I have earned my Norwegian drivers license. I think NBF is about as excited as me. He brought flowers and wanted to know how we are celebrating. One thing is for sure, I am ready to experience the independence this brings and beyond ready to NOT have people making trips or waiting for me. So here's to another door to adventure open in Norway.
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If you've kept up with my blog, you know writing has been a struggle for some time now. My life and audience have shifted, and I can't help but feel the pressure of the different eyes on my posts. While I know I have always been talking to the same audience, somehow the changes in my life have made me almost feel self conscious about writing with the same naked honesty as before.
One of the biggest changes that I have actively avoided writing about is living with NBF. Holy overthinking brain cells, Batman! Who would have thought living in the same house as someone would be such a challenge? Okay...obviously some people realize but I was a bit taken aback by my struggles. My ex husband effectively moved out of the family home in 2009, and we divorced in April of 2012. I lived with my youngest for another two years, but you know how often the average teenager is home in the last two years of high school. I officially moved into my own place to begin living alone in the summer of 2014. Somewhere between then and here, I become attached to my independence like hot wax to arm pit hair. Unlike when a professional controls the wax, I seem to be getting that shit everywhere and tugging on all the hairs I want to stay attached. Staying with the theme of this analogy, I feel I was about as prepared to move in with NBF as anyone is to have their body waxed. You know the process, you understand the mechanics of it, and a part of your brain lulls you into this false sense of preparedness. All that you know is going to be ripped from you while you scream....okay maybe that one is too far, but you get my point. Let me start by saying, I love living here. It has been more comfort than I knew I needed having people at home and sharing. There are a lot of skills you lose and independence you take for granted when you live alone, though. For instance, I am really struggling with the house keeping. At first I busied myself tidying and cleaning everything that needed done. Then of course we had one of our talks about old patterns, so I had to step back and actually do some thinking about what I was doing. I have tried to let the messes sit because I am the only one bothered, but that is going about as well as ignoring a chicken pecking your ankle. I will find equilibrium but I have a feeling it is going to take falling off of both ends of the continuum multiple times. I still feel bothered by leaving my things lying around. I don't mind making my stacks on my desk and shoving my clothes in my drawers every so often, but as for just taking up space in the house, I can't. I try to shrink into my spaces instead of embracing the whole home. When I open the bathroom cupboards I can't help but feel I am taking more space than I should. This isn't a home we set up together after all. I came into their space. Many days I still feel like I don't belong or have ownership in the spaces. I have even been toying with the idea of putting some of my things in storage because I think it is too much. Comfort and ease will probably come with time. I struggle to carve out time for myself and my routines, and I have not stuck to my guns about work life balance. I have been so focused on how I am impacting everyone else, that I haven't been thinking about how I impact me. Okay, that is a lie. I think about how I am impacting me, but I am shoving it down deep hoping it will go away. No need to tisk tisk and shake your head. I'm doing enough of it for both of us. I could keep going and explaining, hoping that this post might help me unload and untangle some things. But let's face it, living with people will always be messy and heavy. I am not going to get the organization in thought that I need here. (Of course, we all know it isn't organization it's control, but I am not sure I am ready to swim there yet.) I can't rely on the past for guidance unless it is a lesson in how not to do living together. Which makes this feel even harder since I failed the first go round. Where to go from here? I can tell you this exposure therapy to sitting in the passenger seat has me itching to grab the wheel and steer us into the nearest tree, but I signed up for this...good and bad. And I can tell you the good more than balances the bad. There is real laughter in our home. There are inside jokes and even if it is only for my cookies, the bonus kids love me. NBF is flexible and adaptable to any changes I make as long as I don't cook foods past their end date. Hard boundary there folks! We tackle chores and battles together, even if it isn't on my timeline. And just yesterday he came to pick me up from the train station. The feeling inside when I saw him walking down the platform...sigh. Light. Loved. And home. That is where it starts, not in the details of who washes which dishes and where I keep my knick knacks. That is the string I will pull to start untangling my own mess. Then I'll see if I can lean in instead of pulling back because I really do feel like I am home. Of all of my qualities, my sense of humor is probably one of the most important to me. I even fought to keep it in my divorce. I tried to give it to my boys, but based on their "Goddamnit, Mom" and groans when I send jokes, they don't want it. My therapists, however, have told me I use humor to deflect and avoid emotions. Well, DUH! How the hell else do you deal with this life?! I will reluctantly admit I went too far one time. Just so you can fully understand, my mom's name was Hope. After a particularly nasty fight with my mom, I told my therapist I could see myself living hopeless the rest of my life and being just fine with that. See what I did there? She was rather unimpressed, and in case you're wondering, that is a quite simple recipe for a suicide check to be run on you. I barely escaped having to call a friend to come get me so she would let me leave. Having a friend drive me reminds me of one more joke I will admit was ...possibly...maybe...over the line. During my darkest times, I did actually ask a friend to drive me to the emergency room. I needed help, but I also knew I hadn't been completely honest about all the abuse and issues I was facing at the time. So when the doctor asked me, "What brings you here?" I said, "An Oldsmobile Alero." If. Looks. Could. Slap. Honestly, I would do it again. I have long thought I can either laugh or I can cry..just as well enjoy myself. Lately I simply haven't felt like laughing so much. I have let work take a toll on me. Starting a new school has been a much bigger challenge than I imagined. I have really not been ready to laugh about any of it. I needed to change that. It's no secret I have been wearing a lot of hats in my job. My cleaning lady quit a day earlier than she was supposed to. In my rush to clean so I could get home for break, I didn't find all the trashcans that needed emptied. So we can pick up the story the Monday after break...a week later. We were inundated with fruit flies. My office was almost buzzing. Meanwhile one of the teachers tells me her trash wasn't emptied for about a week before break and wasn't done over break. Y'all, she had fish cakes in there. I would have pulled the bag myself on day one with that smell but to each their own. Needless to say, I am not sympathetic to her plight. Another teacher comes to me and says there is something wrong with the laminator. And by "something wrong", she means there is an A3 (11x17) paper wrapped around and melted to one of the rollers inside. I don't have a receipt or book for this thing to be able to return it, so I decide I need to try to fix it. Let's just say one roller had a flat spot and this copier has heated it's last hot pocket. I ordered a new one. The next day, the handyman is scheduled to come to my building to hang cloakroom lockers and to take furniture borrowed from another school back to its home. The head of school came to visit one time and said, "So that is where my chairs and wardrobe went!" OOPS!
The handyman (HM) arrives and immediately we have an issue as he doesn't speak English or Norwegian. We use hand signals, Google translate, and silence. As we're unloading the dance teacher calls in sick, and all I can think is let the shit show begin! I actually ended up calling NBF to come help us carry the huge wardrobe DOWNSTAIRS. He and HM worked out a system and didn't really need my help. If only my time with HM had been so successful. At one point, he uses Google to tell me that WE are going to the store together. He won't take my card or no for an answer, so I go along. His radio is playing rather loudy as I frantically search for a hardware store before he can drive off into traffic. He impatiently gestures to the phone holder on the windshield so he can see the directions. LAWD! By the time we made it out of the hardware store from choosing the perfect screws, I was feeling pretty accomplished. We get in the van and of course the radio is going. I hear the refrain is a string of "fuck you and fuck you". HM is unfazed, of course, and I am just sitting and staring, wondering what I have done with my life to deserve this. Did I mention that we had visiting students this week, and that I am juggling school tours and parent calls all the while? Yeah, so that was the least of my problems but the new kids kept wandering into the hall to watch the HM and head of school working. Probably the lowest point of my day was when HM asked for a glove to cover the smoke detector so he could saw a piece of wood. I found a glove but we didn't have a ladder. He decided he would use one of our swivel chairs, and climbed on up before I could get there to hold the chair still. The glove didn't fit, and he settled for opening the door...SO HE COULD GRIND AWAY THE WOOD NOT SAW IT. So, I grab a yellow reflective vest to fan away the smoke because the very last thing we need is for the kindergarten to have to evacuate. I can only imagine what the staff and students thought watching me fan this bright yellow vest like a lunatic under the smoke alarms to keep the smoke away. When I finally send HM, I am relieved that somehow we finished all of our tasks. The next day the new laminator arrives. I have name tags and other papers I need to laminate so this is great! I plug it in and push my name tags through and go to get the rest of my signs. When I return, my name tags are nowhere to be found. The paper has wrapped around the goddamn roller bar. Mother. Of. God. At least I can send this one back, but I will have to send my hat back as that was in the box to protect the laminator. So. I am going to laugh because it really is funny. You should laugh too. I mean, life, what are you gonna do? You can laugh or you can cry, and I really want to start erring on the side of laughter again. I haven't skipped a whole month, let alone two, since I started this blog. Even in the busiest of times, blogging was something that pulled my mind to a safe place and let me explore inside. I guess I haven't really even wanted to explore lately. This will most likely be a long meandering post that is part update and part therapy. Long story short, I moved in with my boyfriend then began my new job as head of school at a brand new school with too little training, system preparation, and staff and then my estranged mother died. Shall we? Last time we caught up with our heroine, she was wrestling with car shopping and the thrill of beginning a new job. Having just returned from a motorcycle vacation with the NBF, she was refreshed and ready to tackle the world looking brazenly beautiful in her power suit and heels. BAHAHA oh, yeah, it's just me, Nellie. I bought the car by the way, a 2016 Volvo V40 Cross Country. Pretty little thing with low odometer tally. Please don't get me started on the miles versus kilometers aspect of shopping. I had to start converting to get my mind wrapped around the "mileage". I can honestly say, we looked through dozens of cars. At first we thought electric because of cost, then we switched to searching for a diesel because the kilometers from commuting kills resale value of the electric cars so quickly. We learned we have very different thoughts on cars, but I am happy to report that we did not buy a gray car. Now to secure my license. I still have to take a course where I drive on slippery conditions and of course pass my drive test. In the meantime, I need to drive with NBF having a second rearview mirror just for him and a beautiful magnetic red L on the back of the car to practice. Anxiety thy symbol is L. Mind you, NBF is perfectly calm and reasonable. It is all in my mind, but that is enough. Also, I ended up having to cancel my last appointment for the skid course because I was sick, so I will get the final verdict at the end of October. . Holy moly was I sick. It started with a rough allergy season and a sick kid at school, of course. You know the drill, teachers....new school, new germs. And of course he was a nose picker. BLECH. My illness was complicated by not only allergies but stress. Needless to say, I was in really rough shape. There were days when I was so ill that I was crying on the couch before work because I didn't want to go, but there really were no easy options there. We'll talk about that shit show soon, don't worry. NBF was so good about doing all the laundry, cleaning, and cooking. He expertly dealt with my whining and feverish rantings about imaginary problems. I know he recognized the stress for what it was long before I would admit it. Finally I took a three day weekend and just laid in bed or on the couch. I slept and read. I worked answering emails the first day but declined every invitation to even go to the grocery store after that. Game changer. Do not underestimate taking sick days, folks. During my illness, I realized how nice it was to not be alone. That is maybe one of the worst parts of being single/living alone...you are alone during really shitty times in your life. Of course, it has been so long since I have lived with people, I think I was on the verge of being considered a feral human in regard to cohabitation. It was common for me to make breakfast, do my house cleaning, or just sit around in the nude. Judge all you want...my house, my rules. I left messes for days if I didn't feel like cleaning it up, but only because I could deal with my own messes. I ate food beyond the expiration date, and even more dangerously relied on smell for drinking milk out of date. The furniture was arranged how I wanted it, and I didn't tell anyone when I was leaving or where I was going. I, of course, no longer spend my Saturday mornings cleaning naked, much to the chagrin of NBF, and I have compromised on expiration dates...even if I still give him shit about it. Living with NBF has been eye opening. You have to remember I went straight from living with my family to foster care back to family and then on to married where I stayed for 21 years. Those experiences are the only comparison I have, and it is like taking training in scuba diving in order to prepare for a rock climbing career. We've had struggles. I think it is more fair to say I have struggled, and he has done his best to show me I'm normal and reasonable (mostly). He is so flexible and understanding. Believe me, I have pushed and prodded looking for the limits. I wanted the closet just so, and I needed a place in the house that was just mine. It always ends with, you know Nellie, I love you. I have waited my life for you. Meanwhile, I am waiting for that other shoe. What is going to be my one request where he says enough is enough? While at the same time trying to understand and allow myself to truly believe that asking for my fair share of the closet isn't really being unreasonable. There are so many good things about sharing a home with NBF. I love how he looks at me in the morning when I come out of the bathroom dressed for work or how he loses track of what he is saying when he sees me less than dressed. I look forward to crawling into his arms when he is stretched out on the couch and puts his arms out as an invitation to snuggle. He encourages me to carve out space in our home, and reminds me to stop calling it "his house". He buys my favorite bread and still tells me daily how beautiful I am. I am in the photo on the background of every device he owns, and the house lock code is the day we agreed to go on our first date. As a matter of fact, as I write he is in photoshop editing photos of me. I am sure he has thousands of photos of me and when he shows me, I can hear and see the sincerity in his comments about the beauty and character that he sees in them. I wish I could see myself through his eyes, if only for a moment, but I have a feeling the regret for how I have treated me would be unbearable. I would have to say that this autumn has given NBF a chance to see me at my worst and learn the worst about me. Of course, you get a better view of someone living together, but starting a new job is an even better way to see a shit show up close.
Teaching is a constant flame in my soul, but more specifically, helping teachers to become better teachers is the fuel that keeps that fire burning. When I learned I could become head of school AND live near NBF, I couldn't resist the opportunity. (Yes, I said live near...I didn't plan to move in so soon...sigh...life) This school is a brand new school set up on the model of the three sister campuses, one of which I taught at for two years. I knew it would be a soft, small start, but I was utterly unprepared for what actually happened. When I was posted in my new school, I was given specific instructions about who I could reach out to for help. I was provided a credit card, a key, a small staff, and told to make my way. It quickly became clear how much work I was in for when I was building furniture and stopping at the store for basic needs for school. At one point, I was even cleaning the school and laundering cleaning supplies at home because our ONE cleaner, who was hired instead of a cleaning company as a money saving move, became ill...FOR TWO WEEKS! My quote from the company shows that the total saved for hiring her was about 200NOK ($25) a month. While initially I thought I could balance teaching first grade half time and being head of school, I quickly realized I could not also balance IT manager, business adminstrator, receptionist, chef, handyman, and teacher mentor as well. All of this done under the guise of "it's a small school." My second in command was promised the moon and given a really sweet schedule that left me helpless to have wiggle room for anything. I would laugh to myself when my list of tasks would say "ensure the chef cooks a meal for the staff" or "check with business adminstrator about...." Soon I was too buried in the all hats I needed to wear and lesson planning to laugh. I became angry and frustrated. I was failing. Worse, I felt I was set up to fail. I was point blank reminded that I was who people would look to when the school failed and then chided for taking initiative in my work. It became so bad that one weekend, NBF said, "I have never seen you so miserable. Maybe it is time for you to think about moving back to Sarpsborg and taking your old job." HOLY. FUCKING. WAKE UP CALL. Knowing I needed to do something but unsure exactly what to do, I reached out to the people I knew were solid. The people I had been told not to contact. At first they gave me resources and advice which really did help, but I was still overwhelmed and ready to quit. Folks, I am not a quitter. I dig in. I am tenacious. I didn't survive in this life by rolling over, but fuck I was tired. It took a sit down with a fellow bulldog to get things rolling. ( Queen, you know who you are!) Change has come. While it is slow, I can see a path out. I can deal with the situation now just knowing that this reality is not my future. After autumn break, I will no longer be teaching, and I will have one more staff member. Building roles have been established, and I have a clear view of the heirarchy. I know I could not have maintained that breakneck pace and load and provide excellence in any area. My staff, my students, and the school community deserve better. I am sad to give up my classroom, but I know that this is the best solution for our school moving forward. I am even certain that soon I will be able to laugh about the situation and retell with my signature humor instead of the bitter tones here. In the meantime, don't mind the top hat, red jacket, and whip...this circus won't run itself. In the midst of this hurricane, I learned my mother was in the hospital with COVID. I know her health history, so I really started reflecting on the reality this news brought. When she had faced health crises before, I felt I had made peace with the fact that one day she would die and we would not have any more do overs. Even so, this summer when AB told me that her daughter felt I was missing an opportunity by not reaching out to my mom, I paused. M is facing the very certain death of her mom, and I respect her feelings even if I didn't have great faith that my own mother would see it the same way. I unblocked my mom on FB and sent a message then forgot about it. NBF asked me about it one day, and the pain in his face was apparent when I said she had not answered. Fast forward a bit, and AB tells me my mom has been intubated. My mind immediately registered that this was the last health crisis I would be told about regardless of the positive statistics about oxygenation AB sent. My mind began going through the processing of "what ifs". Am I secure in my feeling that I have done and said everything I need to in order to be okay when my mom dies? In those moments before her death, I honestly believed that I had. My mom and I have never had a typical relationship. It has been difficult at best, spiteful at its worst. She has pitted me against myself and anyone around me. I rebelled and reacted, never flinching at the torched ground I left in my wake. I ruined a lot of my life and relationships in my interactions with her. Now she has passed. You would think I would be comforted by the fact that this chapter was finally closed and to a degree I am. What I didn't anticipate was the flood of anger, guilt, sadness, and of course the reality of how my sisters would deal with her death. Although I am on the fringes of the shit storm, I am being well and truly splattered. Let's start with the fact that NBF and I have never really talked in-depth about this part of my family... by design, folks. So, this is his introduction to my sisters and deeply revealing past hurt, patterns, and quite frankly, shit I would rather not have to share. Crazily enough, he has become a voice of reason in this nonsense choosing his signature compassionate and empathetic approach to all the stories and events surround me and my sisters interactions. I did not expect to be so rocked by my mom passing. The oldest of my sisters has taken charge of the planning, and she is using her anger at me to hide from some of her own pain. It is obvious in how my sister wrote the obituary being so spiteful as to put my mom's dog in front of her deceased grandson in the preceded in death by section. Not only hateful enough to do this, but despicable enough to keep it this way after I called the mortuary to ask to have it fixed. My younger sister is ignorantly unaware of reality and the consequences of their actions. She is powerless in her relationship with my other sister, but still she is an adult. Yet, I still feel guilt that I have failed them and not done my duty as a big sister. I can't shake that feeling. I have heard her anger about me running away and abandoning them well into my thirties. Just as she can't see me beyond the fourteen year old version of myself, I cannot see her beyond being my kid sister. I feel I had greater responsibility to both of them and their kids, but I had to survive as well, you know. My relationships with my sisters haunt me and will for some time as I work through the reality of it. I am trying really hard not to let my anger shade my reactions because in the end, they are victims as well. They did the best they could just like I did. At one of my most sorrowful moments when I expressed regret for what I feel are my responsibilities to my family, NBF said, "Nellie, you never would have crawled and clawed your way to this life with a sister in each hand." And that's the rub, right? I never could have saved all of us from her, from the cycle. But you see, I still feel that cycle pulling on me. I actually told myself that I don't have a right to grieve because we were estranged. THAT is what abusive and dysfunctional thinking convinces a person. At first, I didn't even tell my coworkers and friends that my mom passed. The conditioned trauma reasoning was that since I didn't maintain the relationship and was being so disrespectful as to not attend her funeral I didn't deserve condolences or the normal allowances of a grieving daughter. Y'all, my fucking mom died. FULL STOP. And here I am trying to rationalize away my feelings. Let's unpack a bit. I am not attending my mom's funeral because I know it will become a spectacle, and I refuse to engage with my sisters' brand of fuckery and nonsense that on that day. I know I am unwelcome, and I will without a doubt suffer abuse at the hands of my sisters. I do not NEED to attend to be the "bigger" person or to fulfill some sense of obligation. The people that matter understand. Period. But secretly, I am struggling to believe those bold proclamations. I want to take a side note here to say that I have raised incredible men that asked me when the burial was so that they could go to support family members that loved Hope. I am crying even to retell this conversation. Although, this isn't the first time they have displayed this empathy and integrity. Little BAH stood at the funeral of paternal grandfather, granted to make sure "the motherfucker was actually put in the ground", but there as a representative for his dad nonetheless. These boys...sigh, men...remind me that I have distanced myself and mine from the cycle. The condolences make me feel sick to my stomach. I posted an obituary I rewrote for my mom on FB, and I cringe every single time someone posts a response. I have been sent flowers and called by friends. The calls are nothing but awkward for me so I artfully steer the conversation to safer waters. In my mind and heart, I understand the human need to connect through experiences like this, to provide support and comfort. Truthfully, I would be upset to learn I had a friend reacting as I am. No one is meant to go through these experiences alone. I have a lot of reflecting to endure and forgiveness to find. I am still busy working on defining "My mom died" and how that impacts me. The shades of gray are the hardest to reconcile. The black and white of how it ended doesn't erase the fact that I was her oldest daughter. I made her a mom. At many points in my life, I know she loved me. I know there was happiness when the birth of my son made her a grandma. I know she was proud of me. But on the other hand, I know she was jealous and bitter. I know there was anger and betrayal around my birth that tainted my life. The grays. At the heart of it, I know without a doubt that my mom did the best she could with what she knew and learned. Just as well as I know, her best wasn't enough for me. Reconciling those two statements is out of my grasp right now. So, for now, I will lean on AB's sage advice....sometimes shit is just shit we can't flush. We just have to clean it up the best we can and put it where we are least likely to smell it. I will do my best to clean up all I can on this unexpected life detour because if I have learned nothing else, it's that pressurized shit splatters. But you know maybe one of the most painful realizations of my mom's passing is that this is peanuts to what I will face when I lose AB. I will put that shit where I can't really smell it for now too. Although...in my new job I have learned a lot about cleaning up the elephant shit once the crowd leaves, so maybe I got this after all. I told you it would be long and meandering, but it feels good to pour it to pages. It feels great to be back to scribbling and chatting with all of you. I have needed to do this for too long. I can't wait to paint these updates. Besides, it is autumn in Norway. You simply must see it! |
Nellie HillJust a woman leaping outside her comfort zone and telling the tale. Archives
April 2024
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