Today, September 8, 2014,
My daughter's baby shower was darling, thanks to the extra spoilings of my sister. Baby streamers hanging from the ceiling fan, baby blocks, and little tiny hand printed games, paper, and pencils announcing, "It's a Boy!" paraded through my cousin's home. Family and friends gathered and in the early buzz of set up my mother strides in with a fist full of festive Mylar balloons. "These, balloons aren't for the shower," she whispers in my ear. "They are for you." she grins. "Me?", I say. "Yes dear these are to get rid of all your bad divorced feelings; you're going to write on them and watch them float away." She nodded and raised her brow as if to ask, do you agree? I nodded back. My mother has had to hear me cry through the pains of my divorce now for months, well three for the proceedings but many more during my marriage. She wanted me to let go, she wanted me to move on. I wanted that too.
When we got to the park I had written my pains on the balloons lies read one, jealousy, read another, and the third was written in large letters EEYORE. Lies because I tried to convince myself what I was living was happiness, when really most of the time I was miserable, jealousy, because it stole away the relationships I had with many of the men I had in my life, which included my boys, my son in-law, my brothers, and my cousins. And Eeyore was the sad depressed mopey donkey my ex husband became whenever he did not get his way. Eeyore included moments of suicide threats and bouts of deep depression, sheer unhappiness that I was responsible for carrying each day. Balloon by balloon I let each of them go into the sky, they floated far away until they were barely visible, then blip they were gone. I cried with my mother and sisters and actually felt lighter as we got back in the car and drove away.
It's been two weeks since the shower and I find myself angry... angry at everything. I've thrown my deodorant, pens, the cap to my cooking spray oil, my son took me to throw apples at an old wall in the park. I am still mad. The release of the balloons was just the tip of the iceberg to what I am feeling I suppose. Perhaps I just opened Pandora's box of angry birds and they will be flying out soon to peck out my own eyes... um mom?... I need more balloons!! How do I get the angry sharks to stop swimming in my brain? I got enough going on in there! I was told by an old friend that I needed to be honest with myself and with him it's the best place to start. I think she's right... Balloons couldn't hurt either right? Maybe a therapist and some Prozac too? Heaven help me.
