when all you have are breadcrumbs

Why does it have to be Monday? Here I was, all set to be grumpy and mean, and I suddenly remembered sleeping with bread. I don’t feel like sleeping with bread. In fact, this morning, I was so full of general malaise, that all I felt like doing was sitting in a hot tub with a flotation device to allow sleeping without drowning. I need a vacation. I guess that makes it only fitting that I choose to examine when during the past week I have felt most alive and been most drained of life.

For the past two days, I have been so drained that they would have to qualify for this exercise. I am irritated by everything, stemming most likely from sheer exhaustion. Between football, a birthday party, a missed day of church, having two extra boys here for the weekend, and feeling guilty about forgetting to ever get out those birthday invitations (resulting in a low attendance kind of day), I am just frustrated with myself and everything in general. You would think after seventeen years of marriage, the dh would learn to recognize the signs of that mood in me, and work toward smoothing the road.

I am purposefully being vague about the details of all the various grump-inducers. Were I to go into any kind of detail, I would likely be carried away on the waves of my passion. Misery loves company and all that. But I know I need to keep myself from reflecting on the negative side of things, or I will stay in this mood far longer than is needed. I have likely already done so.

With all of my attitudinal issues this weekend, I dreaded opening up a bread post. I knew I would have to seek also the positive side of the coin. When I get into a certain stage of irritation, I seem to find a comfort in it. I have no great desire to look beyond it. I want to just be able to tell someone all that I am thinking and feeling and going through, and receive in return sympathy and understanding. I need instead to learn to let go of the irritation without sharing it.

During the past week, I felt the most alive while looking through old photos on the computer. Remembering does that to me. Images from the past bring back the sights, sounds, smells – the warmth of embraces long past. Even though I avoid the camera like the plague, I remember myself in the situations and recognize that I am still a separate me along with being mom. I am thankful for the huge storehouse of memories these beautiful children have provided me. I am grateful for the amount of ammunition my mother and I give them all for their later comedic storytelling as they grow and take over that responsibility from their father. I am glad to be alive and need to let myself live more fully.

I don’t feel it yet, but perhaps all I need to do is go look at some more pictures…