Non-Pity party

This is me right now.

There is part of me that wants to announce on Facebook that I'm holding a pity party, and invite all of my "friends" to join in it with me. But I hesitate, for myriad reasons. I don't really want anyone's pity. I think I just want to believe that I'm ok, and this is ok, and time will make me feel better. And I do need to cry. The reality is this: my life is so overflowing with blessings right now, I am absolutely ashamed for how sad I'm feeling, and how weepy I am all the time. A dear man I go to church with is literally going to be breathing his last breath any moment now, his body finally giving up after a lengthy and valiant fight with cancer. My mother in law has been battling cancer for many years now. A wonderful girl I know from high school is also fighting breast cancer in the most admirable way. My sweet son-in-law's mom will find out today the results from her latest scan, as to whether or not her rare cancer has returned or is still in remission. My grandmother is lying in a bed in an assisted living facility, alive but barely living, and has been that way for so long, I can't even remember. I have a friend that's been battling to recover from a knee surgery for two years and she will never be the same, physically or emotionally. I have an uncle that's fighting against throat cancer. And a cousin who can barely get out of bed each day because of a variety reasons. These are just a few examples off the top of my head, of people I know that are close to me and enduring suffering and pain and true struggles. Then there's me. I have my health. I have a body that will do pretty much anything I ask of it, barring strenuous physical exercise or asking me to stop eating cookies. I have a mind that is fairly functional, particularly when I take my meds faithfully each morning, and I can use it to do anything I want. I have no real physical or mental limitations. I live in a large, safe, beautiful home with more comforts and luxuries than enjoyed by most people in the world, including but not limited to air conditioning, a vast amount of modern and well-functioning appliances of all sizes, an incredibly luxurious mattress which sits atop of a functional king-size mattress frame and box spring to sleep upon every night, plenty of comfortable (if not quite fashionable) clothes and shoes to wear, freezers and refrigerators (those are both plural) and cupboards filled with food. Our family owns three cars that all work well and are paid for. I have a husband who loves me and is the best companion, who has worked hard his entire life to support me and our children, and I haven't worked outside of the home since the day my firstborn child came into the world. That's over 20 years, folks. I have four children that astound me on a regular basis with their awesomeness, and recognize that they are, bar none, the greatest blessings in my life. Each of them is physically and mentally healthy and whole and fulfilling their own dreams and travelling their own paths in this journey in life. I do not think it's for lack of recognizing and appreciating the blessings in my life that I am feeling the way I am right now. The only thing I can come up with to attribute all my recent weepiness to is an overall sense of grief for the transitions taking place in and around my life right now. My connections with people who I'm closest to in life are shifting and changing, and I'm left feeling a sadness for what is now past. It's gone. I am no longer the first person my oldest daughter will come to with her most difficult struggles, because she now has a husband with whom she will share all of daily life moments with. I will no longer hear the cartoon character voice of my second daughter's, talking to one of her younger siblings or me, or herself for that matter, bringing a smile to my face no matter where I am or what I'm doing, because that's just what she did. She's at college now, pursuing her life's dreams, becoming her own person, and not here near me. I can't believe how much it hurts, having these precious girls leaving the nest. Right now, the pain of it makes me cry all the time. It's so aggravating to me: if these children we have and raise, grow up and do what you've taught them and hoped they would do, and they do it so well, and they are happy, then why does it hurt my heart so damn much? I have no regrets for choosing to be a stay at home mom, being here to raise each of my children full time 24/7. There were absolutely many, many times when they were younger, that I would have paid good money to speed up time to get through the most difficult phases and trials of mothering young children. I have great compassion for mothers of little ones; I don't really like children much to begin with. But there's something almost magical about your own kids, being able to witness their growth and development, their becoming their own human beings, that is one of the greatest privileges given by God to all of us who have the blessing and opportunity to have children. It's amazing how unconditionally we can love these little creatures that are sent to us to protect and care for and rear with love. The connection to one's child is probably the most sacred connection a person can forge here on earth, and nothing compares to it. And the relationship I have been blessed to be able to have with each of my children...well, it feels like I've been awarded a Golden Ticket from God, worth more than anything else ever could possibly be worth. Even though I'm an absolute blithering mess right now, I wouldn't trade it for anything. I really like my kids. I like being with them. I like the individuals that they are, their personalities, their quirks, their innermost hearts. I like the way they treat others. I like their senses of humor. I like their minds. I like their strong bodies and the things they can do with them, like kicking a soccer ball or hip hop dancing. I like that they have opinions and that they question things and that they're sassy. I like how they tease and love one another. These kids of mine, they're pretty much the greatest four human beings I know. How lucky am I, to have been able to be mom to them? Ok, I think I can stop now. My sinuses are sufficiently clogged. I think I can just pick up and carry on for a while more now. This ugly crying jag has come to an end. For the time being...