Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Having a sore back really makes you slow down. You kind of have to give up control and hope for the best. I have been doing this the last couple of days and it's been wonderful.

I don't can't care about bedtimes, and homework load, or SAT and SSAT prep, dinner, or Halloween plans. I can only think about how I am going to make it to the bathroom or to the kitchen for some sustenance. I'm in survival mode and it's quite nice.

If I'm like this for longer than a few days I will start to get depressed and anxious, but right now I am stopping to smell the flowers. It's just too darn bad that I can't bend over to smell those lovely flowers.

And writing is almost impossible. It hurts to sit so I have my computer propped on my bed and I am kind of twisted to the side trying to write down my thoughts as quickly as I can so that I can readjust out of this awkward position.

I can't even afford the luxury of worrying about the kids leaving for college. Although I did have a moment's flash yesterday that I my aching back would prevent me from dancing at my son's wedding. They are 16 and 13--do ya think I'm projecting just a bit.

Which has gotten me thinking about whether this BLOG is all about projection.

Do you remember when the kids were little and they would throw-up and it would fly across the room--the doctors called it 'projectile vomiting?'

Well, I think that's what I am doing in a kind of metaphoric way. My future has become reduced to projectile vomit. Isn't that nice?

All the worrying and distraction really is all about projecting into the future. It is like throw-up, just a tad more difficult to clean up. And why do I do it? I hate throwing-up more than anything, yet I continue to torment myself. Why?

Am I too afraid not to, cause then I will be devastated by loss when the boys leave? If I start now, will the shock be less, will the loss feel less?

I doubt it, however, I think that I really do want to start the "rest of my life." I don't want the young mommy years to represent the end of life. I want to be vital and significant as a something other than a mother. And for this, dear BLOG, I am grateful.

Projecting gets you nowhere yet it is impossible for me not to do it. But, I have learned that I can stop putting road blocks in my way, and while placing one foot in front of the other, discover a whole new, exciting world out there.

And this makes me happy. I know I will continue to vomit all over myself. But I also know that I really can reinvent myself in any way I want to and that gives me hope.

Today, I hope that my back will feel better soon.


  1. Around here we call this psycho barfing and I'm a huge fan. Sometimes I am the barfer but lately I've been catching a great deal. Remember when your kid would throw up in a store and the only thing you could do was hold your hands out knowing full well that you could never contain it all? Good times.

    I hope your back feels better soon!

  2. The metaphor for angst during menopause... projectile vomiting. I love it, especially if it is bright pink!
    Why is it that when we are so consumed with ourselves and how we are feeling about everything, we think this is bad? If I think of the alternative, holding it in, I get a bad taste in my mouth, if you know what I mean. Keep up the work, Terry! It makes for great story telling!
    PS... I'm joining a menopause 'group'. Bunch of 50 plus women projectile vomiting all over the place!