Summer like its 1993
Last summer was hell.
I almost freaking died (because I felt like driving my SUV off a bridge) but I didn’t do it so everybody CHILL.
Instead I went back to therapy and found a mental health focused nurse practitioner to finally effectively titrate my medications.
I go in that joint, which reeks with the exact scent they force through the air vents at the Excalibur Casino in Vegas (IYKYK) and I cry to my therapist, who seems wiser than her years, and she tells me I am hella strong and that it makes sense that I feel how I feel and that despite everything, I am still a good person who didn’t deserve the shit I have been through. She tells me that I have C-PTSD and have been living in survival mode since I was 13. She makes me feel better about never having the chance until now to even take the time to talk about my mother’s suicide and the aftermath of raising yourself. So I cry the whole damn time, wipe the tears and thank her, then I go home to see what fresh hell awaits between visits. I have not yet gotten to the point where we start actually going back and doing the WORK of untangling my trauma so to speak, because my life the last 5 years has been a series of dumpster fires within a large human experience collective dumpster fire. Every time there is something new to bitch about, but I am getting closer..
It’s now July, so it has taken 7 months of back and forth with insurance and the clinic but the adderal dose is starting to give me control over my brain for a few hours a day and the zoloft is ZOLOFTING if you know what I mean.. and LIFE FEELS BETTER.
I made it my mission, after last Summer’s shit storm of CPS and the subsequent PTSD inspiring events that when the summer of 2024 came, we would doing some redeeming of my kid’s summer memories.. when I was a kid, summer was the shit. It was an endless loop of bike rides, popsicles, going to the pool what felt like everyday with my mom, playing softball and generally being outside all day long. Sleepovers and the radio on while we jumped on the trampoline and trips to visit family. Nothin’ showy, just pure unadulterated pre-internet summer fun.
So step one, obviously, was to find an affordable POOL MEMBERSHIP. Bingo. We found a cheap pool with major 1993 vibes and we go there ALL the dang time. The playlist at said pool is healing my soul. The lifeguard who seems to also be a DJ, and dances in his chair, is healing my soul. The freckles on my skin, moving closer together due to sun exposure is healing my soul. Feeding my kids 1-12 popsicles a day from a cooler packed with their favorite snacks, is healing my soul. Watching my four year old smother my 14 year old on a raft, watching them sort out the drama of a rambunctious pre-k kid being the kid sister of a calm once “only child.” It’s chaos and its nothing I ever thought I’d be doing, but I love it. I feel a peace that only comes with alignment.
My love life feels good, my work life feels good, my home life feels good.
The thing about going through anything involving your kids, is that at the end of it, you come back tighter and there is an intimacy that comes with weathering storms as a unit. I love my kids with the fire of a thousand suns and being with them as a healing version of myself without other distractions, has been the power move of my life.
If you are going through shit, just remember what a difference a year can make. Don’t forget the power of Summer in the 1990’s
xo,
Allie
