It's Always Better Come Morning

I awoke last night, wide awake, mind abuzz, stomach tight with angst. After some minutes the clock chimed two times. I lay there in about the same state for over an hour. I know this because I heard the clock as it did its work on each quarter of an hour that I was awake.

What I worried about wasn't really that big of a deal. Well it was, but I bet in a couple of years it'll be history. What I noticed the most was the feeling of gloom and doom. And the lack of an escape plan.

I was worried about the N because he had kind of a loser attitude at his baseball game last night. And worse...it starts before he's made an out. He's in a batting slump right now, but it seems that he thinks he should have great hits every time at the plate. Except he doesn't do a lot of practice. Hmmmm....

What worried me though isn't the strike-out. It's tears. At the second strike. I understand that there is pressure. I understand that he's tense and emotionally he doesn't have a lot alternatives for expression. But it's such a regular thing it seems like a habit. I can't value the tears because they seem to fall a lot and on things far less significant like losing at a video game. I worry about the tears for many reasons: they seem extreme, they perpetuate his outcomes, they weaken him because that becomes the focus. I can't seem to help him move past them, to channel the emotion into something that he can use. We try talking about what he's feeling when it happens. We try to help reduce the pressure by pointing out that no one moment really matters even if it's the last out in the game, it's only one of many outs by many people. We try to help him visualize his success. We try to give him tools to focus. But we can't do it. Only he can. It's hard to let go.

I worry because I'm afraid that he'll give up. I don't want him to start giving up on things because they are hard. This is the first year it's been hard for him in baseball (and other things too). Natural ability got him this far and made it easy for him. Too easy. Now he doesn't understand having to try, having to work at it. It's not baseball I'm afraid that he'll lose. It's the ability to see something through without giving up.

But he doesn't have a good set of models. This is where my angst really lies. Our family angst carpets our home. We have a lot of laughter, a lot of love, but disappointments can thickly fill our rooms too.

We aren't showing him how to work though problems very well even though we would have a lot of opportunity to do so. It's not like we're short of problems.

While we may have plans they are vague. The R working on another advanced degree, slowly plodding along. This degree that might get him some opportunities. Someday.

Me finally starting to submit resumes to get back into the type of work I did before I was a mom. I have ambiguous feelings about it so I'm less than enthusiastic about it. Our lives will change so much. And I don't know if the rewards from the work will offset the disappointment that it came down to me going back to my career full force. And I fretted about my weight which in spite of my running hasn't changed even though my legs and arms feel more muscular. And knowing that losing 20lbs would be best for me hasn't been enough to get me to do it.

How does that lack of determination affect my kids?

So last night while all the thoughts were churning hopelessly in my mind it felt very dark, very deep, far beyond where my hopes could reach out of the cave I was in.

Then sleep took over and morning came. I woke up determined to make a plan. A plan for work. A plan to train. A plan to set a better example. A plan to take control of my out of control life.

Then tonight I'll make a nice cup of tea and eat a bowl of M&Ms and be back to where I was.