Before becoming a mother, I would ask myself what kind of mother I would be. Would I be good? Would I lose my temper? Would I be able to run on little to no sleep for weeks at a time? Would I be able to go back to work and have my career and feel successful?
Once I became a mother I got answers to (most) of these questions. The answers, for the most part, were yes! I definitely had to find my path with being a mother to first Logan, then as a pregnant mother to a toddler, then to 2 under 2.
The only time I ever asked myself what would I be like if we lost one of our children was in pure hypotheticals. My husband and I would lay in bed, looking at photos of our two glorious miracles and marvel in our amazing life. No matter what hardships we had - money, family drama, even problems with our two angels, we loved every second and would talk about it until we fell asleep. As two sober alcoholics, we agreed that if anything happened we certainly couldn't drink or use, but we could pick up our old habit of smoking. I always said I would have no idea what I would do if anything happened to them...
The morning we lost Teddy was completely surreal. In those moments you can't think. There is no thought process to be had, it is just complete shock of the trauma and reacting to what is happening around you. All I knew was that he was gone. And I wanted to be gone, too. There was no sleep for us that night. We called Paul's family - his father in New York, his sister in Florida, and his mother and her partner who lived close by in Delaware. They all rushed over, including Paul's sister who drove straight through from FLORIDA. We knew that she smoked and would have cigarettes, and as soon as she got there at 1:20am we asked for one. As I took that first drag, it felt so fucking good.
I never really wanted to start smoking again, I never really liked it in the first place, but I swear, those cigarettes helped save my life. They forced me to breathe. To take moments and try to quiet myself. To look at the stars and try to see Teddy up there. How fucked up is that the thing that can make you feel better can also kill you?
Anyway, I totally digress... I have been thinking a lot lately about who I am, and who I want to be. I resigned from my job last week. It was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made, but I knew I had to take care of myself, and that job under normal circumstances is crazy stressful and time-consuming. Rewarding and fun, but honestly I had been tossing around the idea of leaving for some time because I felt I couldn't be the mother I wanted to be. We have weird hours - 11am-7pm, and with my commute, I didn't get home until 8:30pm, which meant that while I was working at the studio, I wouldn't be able to see my kids or put them to bed most nights of the week. And I HATED that. On top of that there was the touring, and last spring when I had to go on a 2-week tour it was more than I could take. My back ended up going out I think due to the stress of being away from my boys for so long. I ended up not being able to work for most of the rest of the season, which meant I could have my time with my children.
The past few months I had been planning on going back to my job on April 2nd. The nearer we got to the date, the more nightmares I would have - every night I would dream that I would be in the theatre with the two other stage managers, but I wouldn't have my radio or headset, or I couldn't find the batteries. On top of that I wouldn't know the show, had no paperwork, and could never do my duties. In one of them I was supposed to call half hour, but I got lost, and things kept getting in my way so I couldn't get to the microphone to call it. I finally made it there at 6:57pm in my dream, when half hour was at 6:30pm. It was fucking awful.
I'm a stage manager, but the way. Until very recently I was working with American Ballet Theatre, and I actually miss it very much. I just don't have the bandwidth for it right now, sadly. I love those people more than I can say.
So now, knowing that I am not going back, I am stuck with "what the fuck do I do now?" and "what do I actually want to do?" I don't really have a good answer for that. I need a job, and I want to help people. I know that. I don't really want to go back to school, even though I kind of really want to become a therapist or social worker of some sort...
Right now I am going to go on a long walk, listen to "Anatomy of Murder" (because they are AWESOME) and try to clear my head and listen to my heart- to that still, small voice that I call my Higher Power to lead me to the next right step. The next indicated action.
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