I Don't Know, Guys

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

I don't know.

I just don't know. Ya know?

I get up and do it all. You know what I'm talking about. I workout. I shower. (If I'm lucky.) I eat. I feed the kids. I wipe the kids. I chase the kids. I clean. I play with the kids. And then it's over and I do it all again the next day.

I just...I don't know. I'm kind of tired.

And something a little crazy happened tonight. It used to not be crazy. It used to be normal and everyday. If this WASN'T happening it was crazy. But it's been quite a while since it happened so it felt kind of crazy.

We went on a walk after dinner and when we pushed the stroller into the driveway I casually said, "Those shoes look so cute on Zoë." And as soon as I said it a cry erupted from my body and I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. It was a Lucy heartache sob.

It came out of nowhere. The shoes she was wearing were never worn by Lucy. They were a gift to Zoë after she was born. I have no idea what triggered it. But it was so intense and blind-sided me so much I am still trying to understand.

July was a stressful month. But I did so well with everything that I didn't really realize how stressful it was. And for the past 2 weeks we've had my neighbor friend who I've blogged about before (she lived in the local women's shelter last year and is trying to get back on her feet) staying at our home. My church helped her get into her own apartment and I moved her in today after going to the food bank to stock her fridge. I need to tell you more about this in another post.

My dad had knee replacement surgery. (That hasn't been particularly stressful for ME, but it is on my mind of course.) Zoë is getting to that difficult age where she is a wild hog covered in Vaseline when I try to change her diaper. And well...sometimes I just feel plain traumatized by my "ordinary" everyday life.

Stop the movement! Stop the sound! Stop all the information! Stop the Internet. Stop the phone. Just STOP!

So that's what I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing sometimes. I'd say the times I feel most alive, most at peace, most in-tune with the essence of Molly are the times I'm speaking, singing, performing, running, biking, having a real conversation with a close friend, or having a joyful moment with my children. But the majority of the time I am wishing I could take a nap or watch "Nashville" (my latest guilty pleasure...love it), or have a moment to read my book. I wonder how I got so old. I just feel old lately. It is so strange to look in the mirror and look...older. It's craziness! It really is.

Again...I just don't know. Will we have enough money to retire? Are my kids going to turn out OK? And why am I missing Lucy so much on the night of Aug 7, 2013? I don't know.

I think it's time to finish that cry that started in the garage earlier.

I sound like I'm complaining. I have a great life. I really, really do. I just....need to remind myself why we are all here and what I'm doing. I forget sometimes. 


  1. Even people with great lives are allowed to complain sometimes!

    You were not alone in your grief yesterday. August 7, 2013 is the 9th anniversary of my Lucy passing away. My mom died in March of this year, and so it seems I can't miss my daughter without missing my mom, and vice versa. I have 3 little kids needing my care, a house that needs organizing (we just moved), plus other, brand new concerns that are too hard to talk about right now. I have a wonderful life, a hard, exhausting, wonderful life. Deep grief allows for deep joy.

  2. Oh Molly, you have every right and reason to cry and/or be confused. Grief comes in strange waves. Being a mom is a double edged sword...without our children we flounder and are heartbroken, but with them the monotony can be killer. It's a delicate blance that I don't know if anyone of us will get just right all the time, at least in this life.


  3. Oh Molly, I love and adore the raw-ness of this post. You are such an inspiration for the moms out there who are just plum-tired. I know the feeling of wanting everything to just Freeze for 2 seconds while I catch my breath. Perhaps dinner sometime soon? I'd love to come visit PC again soon. Hugs your way.

  4. I have had many moments like this myself. It always takes me by surprise. I was driving down state street in Provo yesterday and happened to look over to my left. I looked at a bus stop, one I had passed a dozen times previously with no emotion, but then realized that bus stop was the same one my sister Erin and I used to race to every morning to get to work. Instant heartache and pain. I cried silently because I had lots of kids in the car. Sometimes the grief just hits you like that.

    I don't know most of the time either. I really don't. I wish I had more wisdom or grace or acceptance as a Mother. That feels good to say sometimes...I just don't know. Thank you for sharing your thoughts out loud. You are wonderful!

  5. Yes - a grief night, it sounds like. Too much loss & monotony & heartache & exhaustion & pain.
    I did really good yesterday for Link's 9 month birthday, until the evening. Then, grief swallowed me whole. Thankfully, Jason was there to bring me back, but the ache and bleary-eyed-ness continued this morning.
    Love you, Molly.

  6. You look absolutely beautiful .... that's a really good pic of you and Vic.

    Hugs xo

  7. I've said this before that grief is like a river....wild, thrashing, loud, big, heavy, taking everything with it, foaming, falling, falling....painful. But then it slows down, gets more tranquil, quieter, gentle, peaceful...relief. Your life is so busy and I know you like it that way but sometimes we just have to chill...sit on the porch and watch it go by instead of being part of it every minute of every day. One day you will be like me...a grandmother...and life will slow down a bit (although I still work full-time). But then there is travel, lunch with the girlfriends, playing with grandbabies...same busyness just a bit different. And yes sometimes I feel old too but I really am!! LOL!! Hang in there and yes, remember why we are here and what is the most most important thing we do...for me it is being a mom and grandma.

  8. After a brush with death on a family vacation, I just found out my son has a life-threatening nut allergy. I am a basket case. As much as it meant before, your blog and words mean ever so much more to me now. And on another note, I have. no. idea. what. I. am. doing. And I sob uncontrollably at the drop of a dime. You are not alone.

  9. I could say so many of the same things - maybe it will help you to know you are not the only one, but I'm not sure. On Aug. 6 my brother has been dead for 19 years and it still drops me to my knees some days. I look around at all I have and feel like you - I am so lucky, but I still feel tired and scared. It's a daily battle and one I think might require pharmaceutical help, but I am too stubborn. But don't feel bad for feeling bad - enjoy the happy moments and accept the hard ones - they're coming whether you want them or not. No matter how grateful and blessed you are, life is just difficult.

  10. Lately while working in the kitchen after the kids go to bed, I have been listening to episodes of "Enduring it Well" on mormonchannel.org. I keep thinking how you would be a great guest on the show. You are enduring it well!

  11. Have faith, stay strong, stand steadfast, follow the spirit, have gratitude, forgive yourself and others, be kind to yourself, trust God, believe in Jesus Christ and LOVE LOVE LOVE! All will be well in the end. I promise!

    All loving moms go to heaven forever and ever with their families. Always. :)


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