This morning was…just off. I was up at 4 a.m. tossing and turning, unable to get back to sleep. Wierd, because I’m the absolute worst kind of deep sleeper. Despite my innermost drama and the fact that I have all this miscellaneous junk floating around my mind at any given time, for as long as I can remember sleep has been a pretty scary thing for me. It’s like my lights go off and my soul slithers out of my body and I’m just- an empty shell on a bed until multiple alarms set at stupidly random times (6:03, 6:06, 6:14. 6:21..) summon my soul back into my body.
Waking up in the morning (lately more so on those rare nights when I even get 5 hours of sleep) has always been so unnerving. Like I can remember closing my eyes, and then opening them. That’s it. Literally. Nothing in between. This was obviously a huge concern for me when motherhood came scampering into my life like a demon roach in full fucking attack mode, but I made it through with all of the alarms available to mankind and also by just voluntarily not sleeping. Sigh. It wasn’t easy. Never is.
My kids obviously don’t wake up at random hours of the night anymore but I still get nervous and I usually immediately go check on them both as soon as I wake up. I Just need to see the rising of a chest, the movement of a hand or a foot or the turn of a head. Any sign of life. They are alive. Ok. And then I’m off for the ritual morning fuckeries of hunting for a lost bra or a pair of matching socks or my 65th disappeared tube of mascara or my keys which are always right fucking there. Right there. In front of your face Ely.
But something was different this morning. Not a good something. Not a bad something. Just a something. It wasn’t until I got in my car to head for work that I realized it’s August 1st.
JULY IS OFF-I-CIALLY OVER!!!! Yesss!!!
When I last posted I was in a pretty bad place. I contemplated suicide more than once- it was that bad. It was something that crossed my mind and the thought in itself led me to feel even weaker, even emptier, even stupider. Truth be told, I’m ashamed that I allowed that thought to even exist.
You know, I don’t truly believe I could ever. I honestly think it takes a different kind of fearless, brave, and utterly empty individual to take their own life. I imagine it feels a million and six times worse than anything I’ve ever felt before- to feel so damn convinced that there is no other option, and to physically act on the part where one has to choose and actually do something so horrible to their body that it ends life for good. Just like that.
A person who is terrified of pain and death and hurting their loved ones or of making a wrong decision, still knows there is another way and that the world is not done with them. I am that person. The Universe isn’t ready for me quite yet. And the thought of leaving my children- oh that’s worse than the worst kind of death imaginable. My kids are my reason for everything. There’s nothing without them. Nothing.
What matters is that I’m here, and July is fucking NOT.
July was a raging cunt who nearly destroyed my life and I’m glad I won’t have to face her again for another year. Be gone devil-bitch! August is here now, and it woke me up before the crack of dawn just to let me know that hey girl, I see you. I know it’s been rough. But I got you and you got this. Let’s get off to a fresh start. You’re a boss and yea, I may come with some shitty weather but listen it’s nothing personal. Let my rain wash away your sorrows. Dance beneath my rains. Follow my rainbows. Actually don’t. That’s all bullshit, you know that right? Ok cool.
Just let go, and let AUGUST.
Well alright then August. Let’s do the damn thing! (No reference to The Bachelorette…that was pure coincidence and now it’s too late because I’m not sure how else to end this post!)