Time...

When I was younger, I looked at days off as free time to accomplish things. If my then-husband was gone for a weekend, I would use the time to paint a room or do a craft with my daughter. (He didn't like clutter.) Later, spring break became defined as Time to Clean the Garage, or Dig Into Those Unfinished Projects. I always, always had too many things on the list to actually accomplish, and that became frustrating...but at least I tried.

When I retired, I did so with the notion that I would be looking after my grandchildren (who lived with me) before and after school. It didn't bother me to retire because I knew I had a valiant purpose. And then, in August of that year, there was the heart attack. I guess I underestimated the impact of of retirement and heart attack on my life. Then, the "most unkindest cut of all" came when my daughter sent her children packing to live with their father in September, then drove off into the sunset to California in December of that same year. Done deal. My entire life went swirling out of control down the sewer drain. Time became my enemy. Just getting up in the morning became an issue because days and nights were no longer defined. Why get up? Why go to bed? I never left the house. Anyone who had any demands on my time were out of luck. And if they needed something from me, they were even MORE out of luck.

Interestingly, as a working woman, I treasured a day to sleep in. I LONGED for a day to sleep in beyond 6:30 AM. I ferociously protected my weekend time, even to the point of not going to church. Now, as a retired person, sleeping in is impossible. More often than not, I am up between 4:30 and 5:30, with no explanation. And with one day blending in with another, I have no structure beyond what the calendar dictates. You'd think I'd be getting a lot done...but noooo...

There are weeks when I don't leave the house...don't clean up me or the place. No one comes here and I don't go anywhere. What is the point of a clean house? Who cares? For example, my grandchildren left a week ago after our Easter celebration. I am only just now attending to the laundry (only because I am running out of things to wear). I am painfully aware that I am wasting the last days/weeks/months of my life because there is plenty to do around here, but depression rears its ugly head. What's the purpose of it all?????

Maybe I'm just going through the Empty Nest Syndrome later than most. Or maybe I'm just slogged down by the weight of things that were given to me to deal with before I was ready. (I'm not sure I would EVER be really ready!) Still, I have always considered myself a strong person, so I keep on keepin' on. Perhaps I should just make myself lists of things I want to accomplish each day and hope that I have the strength to do them...

My grandchildren got to see their mother and stepfather this weekend, so it's all good. Those babies are all I have cared about since the day they were born!

Maybe tomorrow will be better. I'll make a list!