I’ve been in my shell.
I think it started to sneak up on me the other day when I walked outside into a beautifully sunny September morning.
Fall, Autumn, whatever you want to call it, this certain time of the year has always been my favorite. For the last ten years or so, my Mom and I make sure to go to Cape May for one of our twice-a-year Mother/Daughter Getaways in September. And it’s beautiful in September.
We always go off-season, for a few reasons, one being that the rates are extremely low, another is that we love the quiet.
Everything is still open, people are still around, events continue year ’round so there’s always something to do, even if that something is nothing more than getting fish and chips from The Blue Pig, sitting on the balcony drinking tea and people watching, or just strolling along the beach
Cape May is where everything is magical and all is right with the world.
I was at ShopRite, walking toward the store to grab a cart when it hit me, I was making a mental list of things to pick up for a trip that will never be.
For that brief span of time I forgot.
I forgot that my Mom died just a little over 4 months ago.
It was a right hook to the gut.
I’m an Unashamed Member of The Mama’s Girl Club, maybe having only brothers had something to do with it, whatever reason, doesn’t matter. I just tell you this so you know she was my best friend and confidante, the person I spoke with on the phone multiple times a day, every day.
Someone I was so proud to be part of.
Because I am my Mother’s daughter, I try to take comfort in that, but I stumbled the other day and I’m having a hard time pulling myself back up this time.
Oh, I know I will, but you know how it is; it feels impossible at certain moments.
And because I have that wonderful Luck of the Irish, sarcasm intended, everything else falls apart at the same time.
Nothing important really, little gnats buzzing near your ear type of things, but when they start piling up they can knock you down flat on your face.
I know, I’m publicly whining.
Blame it on the absolute rage I’m trying to suppress because of internet peskiness the last few days including the lack thereof the aforementioned internet along with some whacky thing that fucks with your email and sends out fake stuff to anyone whose email address you ever had. Yeah, I know there’s names for those things, virus or worms or cyber-somethings, I don’t know any of that stuff, I just want to write.
I think I just babbled which may possibly be a good sign.
I just hate when I let myself sink and I crawl into my shell, it does nothing good.
But then I remember that stupid fibromyalgia and how all the distractions I’m running to and from, all the stressing out and overdoing are just begging for me to crash.
So sometimes I have to crawl into my shell I guess, but it’s not cozy in there these days.
It’s hard and oddly bright for such a dark place, and little pincers reach out and grab my bare flesh in an effort to keep me there, locked up. A prisoner.
There’s an episode of Dollhouse, the best show you’ve probably not seen because FOX doesn’t know how to schedule a good show, but point, the episode, called “Briar Rose”, at one point talks about the faerie tale and how sometimes you have to save yourself, and it’s ok, good, even.*
So I have to start climbing out of that crab shell (this time it decided to dig deep underground and hide)and grab my own reins.
And that, my friends, will begin with me doing the right thing and sleeping early so I can wake up to start checking things off my to-do list.
How can four months seem so long and so short at the same time?
*The Dollhouse episode Briar Rose, from the mind of the one and only Joss Whedon, is brilliant. I can’t do it justice with words, only watching it, and the whole series, can, and I highly recommend you give it a go (said another Joss Whedon fangirl).