Deep Breath in Difficult Days

Adorable circus image from THIS.

Without divulging too much, let me just say things have been trying. I anticipated a bump with Figgy, age 20, moving back home after 18 months living with her beloved cousin in apartments in NYC while she attended school there--and we have indeed gotten a bump. A hard one. It must be a bump for Figgy, too, but I've been too wrapped up in my own woes to consider that.

And then: The bumps with Punchy on the course of her life's path. It's been hard; accelerated defiance. Really tough.

I have been darkly depressed for a few days; lost, even. Then it dawned on me that I was out of my antidepressant for a few days. I didn't think a few days mattered with that medicine. H. kindly went and got it for me this morning.

I want to face that feeling, that torment, so I can remember it and maybe not nearly drown in it again. I get bitter, anxious, suspicious, hateful. I am mean and nasty and impatient. I curse and call names. I can't see beyond the nose on my face. I am like another person. I swim in waters that are dark and sad. I am full of regret, looking back over my shoulder. I feel like a failure in the biggest ways, mainly as a parent. I dwell on the past, on things I can't change. I fret and I worry--and I sleep in my good black Tory Burch sweater. [Years back, when I was depressed, I slept in the white snow hat my Grandma Alice bought me. It was a comfort I couldn't part with.] I am full of fear. How will I ever fix the problems we have? They seem unsurmountable. I lose all hope, and faith. I forget that I can lean on H., and on God.

I must note, too, that I was consuming a fair amount of sugar, and I fear that affects me lately like vodka feeds an alcoholic. I made a triple batch of Lebanese rice pudding for Punchy's multicultural day at school Friday. I stood stirring at the stove for hours. And then the little ones didn't really like it much--or preferred the Italian pizzelle and Scottish shortbread. Of course they did! The whole pot came back to me, and I spooned into some of that. Because Punch wanted to honor both her Lebanese and Italian heritage, I also ordered 30 mini cannolis. But the class is strictly nut-free, and when I went to pick the pastries up, the snowy white cream was dusted with green pistachios. Yikes. In all my life, I had only seen cannolis with mini chocolate chips on the ends and/or a dusting of powdered sugar. I had to hurry and get tiny cannoli tarts because I knew Punchy was counting on me. But some of those were uneaten and sent back home, too. Between that and the white box of cannoli--I didn't have the heart or bravery to refuse to pay for and take them after the young woman had hand-filled them all for me--I ate a lot of sugar. And then there was the milk chocolate Cupid.

But for the moment, at least, I have some peace. Punchy went to sleep for the night. She and I drove to Sis and Don's in Stamford, Connecticut. School holiday today and tomorrow, and ever since Figgy was little, I liked the idea of scooping her up, often with H., sometimes without, to another place for a break. It seemed enriching and we bonded. So Punch and I came here for one overnight. H. is home with Sug and working on a deadline; Fig was working and has classes at Montclair State tomorrow.

Just on the drive, we saw the Tappan Zee Bridge, the Hudson River, the winding train tracks that run right by the water. We gained perspective.

We went to the circus at Westchester County Center in White Plains, New York; 2 p.m. show. We met Sis there. The seats were $25 each, the hotdogs were excellent [Nathan's, with sauerkraut and a ribbon of mustard for me, just a squirt of melted cheese for Punch], and the show was entertaining. My favorite parts:

• The ringmaster's deep, booming voice, exaggerated claims and sparkly red jacket with tails.
• The elephants!!!! So adorable and smart. I think there were three grown and one baby. But I feel guilty about this. Here is a NY Times piece about Ringling Brothers retiring elephants from the circus.
• The flying trapeze artists. He'd fly through the air with the greatest of ease/That daring young man on the flying trapeze [song published in 1867].
• The seats were close enough to see the three rings; reminded me, life is a three-ring circus.
• Sitting next to Sis, who told me Dad once took her and my brothers JJ and Will to the circus. Will was about 3 and got lost when Dad took Sis to the bathroom. But a man carried him back safely. I don't think I was born yet.
• The man-and-woman act with sleight of hand; bouquet after bouquet of flowers appeared out of thin air. Better yet, the woman would stand in one costume and the man would place a thin black fabric tube over her and shake it for an instant and she would emerge in another costume. It was so swift, truly magical. From showgirl's glitzy leotard to full red dress, and so on. Amazing.

Well, I need to get some rest. Good night.

TCOY

1. The roads were snowy and slippy after the circus; we ordered in from Tomato Tomato right up the street in Stamford and had a delicious meal. Then we watched the dog show.
2. I am glad to see Sis and Don, even though we are not the easiest company to have.