I'm Electric, and He's My Ground

Recently, it has come to my attention that I’m a lunatic. Not just your standard garden variety, but the crazed, drooling hose-beast type. About a month ago, my home life changed drastically. I know what you might be thinking, and it’s not that, so don’t worry…but it’s close. Too close for my comfort.

My childhood was anything but conventional. Hell, it might be considered standard in this day and age, but 26 years ago, I was the only kid in my grade with divorced parents. I was raised by a single mother with more than her fair share of issues, but one thing she had down pat was - she loved me. I’m incredibly lucky merely because I know the true definition of unconditional love. That being said, the youthful remainder was downhill. I knew the rest of my life could only look up; but some things are so major they will define you early on as a person for the rest of your life.

I have trust issues. I don’t share. I think crying is a sign of weakness, complaining is inability to change your situation and I know you should never, ever compare your life to someone else’s because you can always find inadequacies if you look hard enough. I learned at the tender age of seven that I could count on me and ONLY me. If something needed done – I’d do it. I grasped that manipulation is an effective tool that can save your life and put food on the table. Baggage? Nope…I don’t have baggage – I have an entire damned U-Haul I cart around on a daily basis.

Then one day, I met a boy. He was special. Something about him fit me, although in the beginning, weirdly and with much difficulty. But, even the dumbest of people can understand when you find a brand new shiny penny on the ground, you pick it up and hold onto it. I stuffed him into my pocket.

Over the years, the boy taught me some things (many are an on-going work in progress). I’ve learned to trust. I’ve learned how to share. I’ve learned how to release and break down. He taught me that there was still innate goodness in some. And most of all, he taught me how to let go. I can have the most horrible of days, the terrible of thoughts, the foulest mouth…and one hug later, I’m clean. My “white board of life” is back to a blank squeaky clean – leaving me time to focus on our happy little life and our lovely family.

Back to the change in our life; he’s been traveling a LOT lately. I’m trying my hand at being a single mom, but with dual paychecks. Needless to say, every night spent in our giant bed alone makes me more insane and I've realized on a granular level – this isn’t what I signed up for. I feel like I’ve lost my penny…you know, that one I picked up all those years ago that was to bring me good luck.

And with the loss of that penny is the loss of my sanity. My white board now has scribbles over scribbles…and I can’t erase it. I find myself holding on, having already forgotten how to let go. My trust went out the window weeks ago. I’ve become suspicious and filled with angst. I find I have no calming voice to sooth the children. That’s no good. I turned my pockets inside out…still no penny.

In the greater scheme of things, I can’t grumble too much. I’ll find my penny stuffed in a cushion in a few more days, and normalcy will return…but until then, I can’t help but feeling like a bag lady, aimlessly walking the mall of life; asking anyone if they’ve seen my penny. If found, you should return to owner – she’s the crazy one over there muttering to herself…