A family tradition almost lost.... in 2015, Tavo and I talked about doing new traditions for our little family. We both loved the idea of elf on the shelf, so decided it would be a new Lopez family tradition. That following spring my father fell ill, and that summer he passed away. So that following Christmas, 2016 we did not unbox our new elf. I spent the next year very mad at myself. I really wanted my kids to have this. Especially my two youngest. Poppy and Justin who still believe in the magic of Christmas. Being able to push through the grief and pull together really takes a lot of forgiveness and soul searching within myself. This year we are going to try harder as a family to be happy again. To love, and to be loved.... and we will be welcoming a new elf friend. Name coming soon!
I really thought that this year it would be easier. I could come into November feeling productive. Host a #LungCancer project, have a happy Thanksgiving dinner, smile on your birthday... but I have not been able to do anything. I still struggle to get up in the morning. And this past month has been one long string of what feels like never ending anxiety and depression. I could give you a fancy metaphor about dark deep holes forming below me that I fall into. Not being able to climb out...That feeling of absoulte hopelessness. But....Maybe simply saying that the part of me that died in June of 2016 is now killing what was left of the person I used to be. If you could see me now, I know you would not be pleased with what you saw.... Still, even that isn't motivation enough to claw even a tiny hole to peek at the light that was once there. I used to be the happy friend. The one always making jokes and people enjoyed being around. Now I have no one left. And I can't blame them as I don't even want to be around myself. I miss you, dad. You were the only person who understood me and loved me unconditionally. You were more than a father, you were my best friend. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. None of us were. There were just so many things that were unsaid. You were supposed to see Ashlie graduate and tell Poppy stories. I don't like being the oldest in the family. I don't know how to guide and keep everyone together. I feel like I have failed you and I can't keep my promises. As I write this I just feel even more crazy as I know you will never read it. Your consciousness, your energy is moved on into space or the Earth... you.. the things that made you, you are gone. And grasping that just tortures my mind. I am so tired of being tired.
I get a little tired of people who assume that just because you have kids, you are automatically completely uncool, and that all your time is spent wiping babies from head to toe, giving spit baths, criticizing their every move, volunteering for PTA, blogging in your spare time, clipping coupons before crock potting a pot roast, ironing the clothes, bleaching the whites, mopping the floors, harvesting your eggs, sewing for your etsy shop, scrapbooking the little things, taking pictures of everything they do, saving for college, reading Dr. Suess, socializing at the bus stop, sweeping the floor, laughing over coffee with your jogging stroller, wearing your birkenstocks and listening to Baby Einstein.
Just because I DO THESE THINGS OCCASIONALLY.
Does not mean for one second that sometimes I don’t just want to be a kick ass girl with streaks in her hair, a ring in her nose, a tattoo on her arm, concert tickets in her purse, vodka in her fridge, a leather mini-skirt in her closet, her best single friends and a standing reservation for Las Vegas once a year with a don’t ask don’t tell policy, and the desire to just once be seen as more than the mother of 5 kids. Sometimes I just want to be seen as a “Maggie”. A “Maggie” with an extremely adorable set of children… (I joke, but sometimes it's hard to over come labels. )