The Quiet in the Busy.

I have been busy, busy, busy. I’d like to say I to want to slow down but it is so, very, very hard. For the last 10 years, my house has been filled with the noise of family. My husband, my in-laws, the small boy. Noise and chaos and laughter and then…silence. When the small boy is with his dad, it is sooooooo quiet. My home is not filled with crashing trucks and tumbling marble towers. There is no silly giggles or background noise. There is quiet.

I fill up every minute and it stresses me out but when I take a moment to slow down and give myself a break the silence is deafening. It rings in my ears like a screaming siren. You are alone. You are all alone. Nights are the hardest. I used to hate that my husband had the TV on constantly. In the livingroom. In the bedroom. At dinner time. Constant background noise yelling at me through the mix of busy family life. I lived for those few quiet moments after everyone was sleeping and the noise was gone.

The quiet is so different now. It is a reminder of how much my life has changed. Of what I have lost. Of how I couldn’t do one more day in a marriage strapped to that heavy parachute waiting to be tossed out of the plane. (Read more about my parachute.) And so I keep adding to my plate to knock out the silence. The deafening silence.

Weekends are the hardest. Long days and long nights. I find myself walking around aimlessly searching for something to do and most times wind up accomplishing nothing. Two weekends ago was the hardest yet. Labor Day weekend has been a tradition with my husband’s friends for as long as I can remember. The kick-off to football season. It used to be wild parties and too much alcohol. That morphed into kid filled days and slow lazy nights with these same friends. I loved watching our kid’s friendships grow.

The small boy enjoyed every moment of this weekend with his dad and his college friends. I watched it all unfold on social media and via text. He caught his first fish. I know my Dad was beaming down from heaven. My Dad loved to fish. Man, I miss my Dad, so much, right now. (Read more on my Dad.) The small boy had the time of his life and he came home exhausted and ready for Mommy snuggles.

It is so very hard to watch half of your child’s life through someone else’s eyes. To miss that first fish. The excitement he must have felt. Is this all worth it? I sometimes wonder. I question myself and then I remember that parachute, that crash landing, the crushed trust and the broken heart and know that I can’t go back but moving forward it harder that I ever imagined. How do I accept the fact that I miss half of my small boy’s life? Half of his firsts? Half of his giggles? How? Someone, please tell me because I not doing very good at figuring it out on my own.

Right now, the only answer I have is busy, busy, busy. If I am busy, I don’t think about the moments I missing. I don’t think about the fact that the small boy is experiencing life without me. I don’t think… Eventually, I will need to slow down. I have to. You can’t keep going 150 miles and hour and not think your going to crash. But how? And when? Will I figure it out or will I crash?

Last weekend was is easier. The small boy was snuggled in his bed upstairs. I snuck into his room and sat on the floor and watched him sleep. The rhythm of his breathing calms my mind and my heart. All is right when I know he is okay. And I know he will be with or without me. I am lucky. At least, I know his father loves him and would do anything for him. Some women are not so lucky. At least, I know he is safe and cared for when he is not with me. It does not make it any easier, but at least I know.

The first week was hard. The next few weeks were easy. It was like a momcation. Girls nights and long days at the pool having “me” time. I was lulled into a unrealistic sense of ease. I was pretty sure I had it all figure out. That I was cut out for this new stage of life. Now, it’s gotten harder. The reality of this new stage has come crashing in and I am adjusting. My separation is old news. Everyone has gotten back to their norm. The daily calls and check-ins have slowed down. Everyone has gone on living there lives and. I have not found my new norm yet. Or at least, not one I am content with. I have not figured out how to fill that void.

Quiet. Silence. Deafening. When does this end? I know that a day will come when I will be okay with this but it is not today. I just know that I will soak in every moment I have with the small boy when it’s my week. I will love him and snuggle him just a little bit more because the next week I can’t. The next week, he will be gone again and I won’t have that sweet smile to get me through the quiet nights. So, I’ll soak it in while I can.

For tonight, I will lay my head down and thank God for my blessing because although this life is hard, it could be so much worse. I will ask for grace and for him to quiet the screaming sirens I hear in my silence. I will thank him for the love and care my sweet boy receives and ask him to make sure he always know how much I love him. I will ask him to bring peace to my heart and my mind. I will thank him for his love. He unyielding, enduring love.

I know you don’t have the answers to my questions but I appreciate you listening to my trails. I know that the road gets better and I am glad you are traveling along with me. As we go down this path together, please remember, in the midst of chaos, sparkle. Don’t let life dull your shine.

Much Love,

The Manicure Mom

Click here to join The Manicured Mom Facebook group.

Click here to join my Color Street VIP group to find out more about my glitter dipped nails.

2 comments

  1. Praying you find that norm for you – a place of contentment. Are you on YouVersion? I’d love to do devotionals with you or connect in that way as well. Also, I recently found an awesome devotional series for women that has spoken to my heart in ways I can’t fully explain. It is called Loop for Women. They release a devotional every Monday and Thursday, written in a perspective of God speaking to you.

Leave a Reply to The Manicured Mom Cancel reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.