So where do I even begin? Definitely not with any cliche renditions of “new year, new you”. Also not with a list of resolutions that I will resolutely end up not following through with. Maybe I’ll start with saying how glad I am to be closing the door on this last decade…as symbolic of a door as it may be. The last 10 years have been some of the toughest years of my adult life, and I am ready to wrap a ribbon around them and send them away in the same hand basket I’ve traversed this last decade in.
I know that my story pales in comparison when I look at the bigger picture of the conditions so many are forced to live in in my own country and across the globe. So much so, that up until the minute I hit “publish” for this post I struggled with indecision about whether I should share this. First world problems, and a desire to not be judged for divulging it all. Then I remember that I said I would keep it real for all of you, and for myself. That if at least one person finds what I am writing relatable, then it’s all worth it. That now, more than ever, it’s important to share the reality and rawness of adult life….so that we don’t just get lost in the seeming “perfection” of social media’s portrayal of what our lives should be like. So…I am hitting publish…no apologies. Here we go….
I started the decade with a 5 year old and a 2 year old. Exhausting for all parents to care for kids in this age range. Trust me. Throw in health issues, and that exhaustion takes on a whole new form and meaning. I was overwhelmed with loneliness and sleep deprivation to rival the worst of insomniacs during that time. Self induced sleep deprivation, because at the start of the decade is when I figured out why and what was causing my son to have so many health issues and sensory disorders since the age of 2. Lonely…because that is a feeling comorbid with parenting a child who is unwell.
So, when the kids slept, I was up for hours on end doing research. I knew I had birthed a perfectly healthy child, and I was dead set on recovering my boy. I had gone to every top specialist in Portland to see what could be done for him. Pediatricians, allergists, neurologists, speech pathologists, you name it. No one had answers….just more drugs to prescribe. I found communities online of other parents and holistic doctors who had treated and recovered kids who had the same issues my son did. They became my coven, my village, my ray of hope. I took notes, researched, made phone calls, researched, made appointments, researched, researched, researched. I averaged 2 hours of sleep a night. I was a mess, but no one knew it.
At the beginning of the decade I was told by specialist after specialist that my kid was the kind of kid that should be placed in a bubble. He was allergic to EVERYTHING. I was told he would never play outdoor sports because his lung condition and allergies to grass, leaves, dust were crippling. He was covered in angry patches of eczema that kept him up at night wild with itching. He had bizarre and unexplainable sensory issues that made it so that he couldn’t function in school or in certain situations like other kids could. He had neurological problems that caused him to have involuntary movements which caused him pain, shame, and an inability to focus on anything in school. He was sick ALL THE TIME. His immune system was in a constant state of fight or flight…so was his nervous system.
I don’t even know how I managed to pay attention to his baby sister, while dealing with all of this. I was on autopilot. I spent my days in a daze, keeping the pantry and fridge full, clothes washed, meals made, everything taken care of in my best domestic goddess role-play. I even managed to hold down a part-time modeling career and write for a few clients’ websites and helped my kids deal with the blow of losing both of our cats within 2 months of each other. Not sure how that all happened, but I know more coffee and wine was involved than should have been. Survival, I guess.
I learned so much during this process of recovering my son, that a highly regarded integrative doctor told me I missed my calling to be a naturopath and has trusted me to begin ghost writing his book on health (more on that another day). I know my shit. Because I had to. I have to. I took my son to chiropractors, NAET practitioners, and acupuncturists. He saw naturopaths, homeopaths, osteopaths, and Chinese herbalists. He had craniosacral therapy done, and was prayed over by John of God. I am cynical and logical to the core…but when your kid’s health is on the line, you will try anything. Believe that. Modern medicine had failed us in the most grotesque way….so it was up to me to find a different path. That path led to my son breaking through the majority of what he’d been dealing with by age 11.
So yes, there is a lot for me to be grateful for this past decade. I do really recognize that…my son’s recovery being the biggest one of all….but it was a long and arduous road getting him to where he is now, and the battles aren’t over yet. Only some of you will know what I am talking about.
My marriage started to crumble during this time. We didn’t have a strong foundation to begin with. There was a lot stuff that we should’ve worked on, but didn’t. It was easier for him to be out of the house than to see his son in the state he was in….and to not deal with me who could only really focus on my kids. I developed severe anxiety during this time, so I’m sure I wasn’t fun to be around. The statistics were against us anyways. It is said that almost 90% of marriages that are dealt the blow of a child with this type of health condition(s) don’t survive….and we didn’t. A trial separation became a divorce, but not before we left our dear community of friends and integrative doctors in Portland to move back to LA.
The divorce was inevitable and amicable. Yet no matter how long you see things unraveling, it always comes as a shock when it finally does. No one goes into this expecting a negative outcome, but it happens. And no one expects how quickly things move on and how replaceable you realize you are either…but for that past decade, and more, I was just a mom and a housekeeper, and a holistic nurse/researcher…not much of a wife. He was invested completely in his work and I in mine. Once we decided it was time for a curtain call, I had to learn to become financially self-sufficient again. It was a task both terrifying and liberating. My ex has been religious with child support, but that only covers the very tip of the iceberg that is living a very modest life in LA…add in feeding a teenaged boy with the appetite of a rhinoceros, and caring for a rescue dog who has been plagued with health issues and you’ll catch my drift. I knew I needed to make a living…and fast.
I found myself needing to re-invent myself. I studied my ass off and passed the exam to become a bilingual certified substitute teacher. No easy feat if you hate math and standardized testing as much as I do. I started my blog, and most recently began working as a relocation consultant thanks to a blessing of a friend that I met back when we were model babies working on commercials in LA. A surprise offering that has saved my butt on more than one occasion. I continue to juggle several jobs to make ends meet while being single mom 5 1/2 days a week….some weeks more…but I wouldn’t change a thing because my kids are my world. Every holiday, every day off from school, every tear shed, every time I needed to go to bat for them, every meltdown, every heartbreak, every disappointment, every moment of teen angst…all of it….they want their mama…and they’ve got her. But I still worry about the future. Will I be able to continue to hold this all together?
This past decade also had the audacity to tinker with my self esteem, and ability to trust. I thought that at my old age and with my crazy on pointe intuition, I would be able to stay away from unhealthy situations, yet somehow I found myself over-trusting and getting hurt in the process. Maybe I just wanted to see the best in people. Maybe I was afraid of dealing with more loss. Perhaps I was just unaware of the chinks in my armor. Chinks I had developed from giving so much of myself to care for everyone else, from getting divorced and losing that sense of security, from losing my dad. My God. The absolute worst blow of the decade.
My dad was my rock. He loved me and my kids with a sense of pride and joy that is hard to describe. He lived such an incredibly difficult life but always said it was all worth it because it led to me…and later to my kids. The most wonderful man on the planet. Gone in an instant. Gone with a 5 am phone call telling me “So sorry, Ms. Makay. We tried everything, but couldn’t keep your father alive.” Every bit of strength I had left came crashing down. Every last bit….and I honestly haven’t yet recovered from it.
I lost friendships during this time as well, because I didn’t have the volition to hang out or simply because I have a habit to go silent when I’m feeling broken or overwhelmed. I turned down so many invitations. I withdrew completely. I have felt a strong compulsion to email everyone I know and apologize for being so out of touch…so distant. Maybe this can be my apology? You see, I don’t reach out for help when I need it. So, it’s easier for me to play hermit. My modus operandi is that I care for others….others shouldn’t have to care for me. People know me for my smile, my “good energy”, but the truth is…this past decade I have been a mess of tears and self doubt….behind closed doors. I am ready to be done with all of that.
This is not a pity party. This is not a humble brag. This is just my reality….was my reality…..now I’m ready to kiss it goodbye. I know a few of you who are right there with me in this sentiment. A few of you who have forged through these past 10 years with more strength than we should have had. Absolute heroes. All of you.
Before I close out, I will call out the good things from the past 10 years….just because we have to recognize that with the bad always comes some good, right? I did recover my son (this was major). I did get to spend time with my dad before he died (thanks to moving back to LA, and also major). I have met some great new friends. I traveled abroad for the first time since before becoming a mom. I started working at a school that I adore. I rescued my most favorite four legged angel. I started a new relationship with someone pretty great, who understands my role as a mother and respects me for it. I ate some really good food. I drank a lot of coffee.
Sure, I have visions of what 2020 and the years after that can or will be like. Nice visions. I am well aware that life is not all sunshine and rainbows. I’m an expert in life practicality….but I think it can get better. 2010-2019 had me feeling like I was paying dues for karmic crimes I never committed….so I think the Universe might be able to cut me a break. Mostly because my kids deserve to see their mama happy a little more often. 🙂
For those of you who have dealt with incredible losses and challenges this past decade as well…a new year may just be a number on a page on a calendar on your wall….but we can make it a starting point for better days. I, for one, will be doing a lot more inner work than I’ve ever allowed myself to do. I will learn to be selfish in the best way possible. If the answers and healing are inside of us….then it’s time to find it. Dig it out by force if necessary. No better time than now.
So let’s make a toast at the very last minute of 2019 for a better decade ahead, shall we?
2020 visions of rising from ashes and stuff like that.
…..glasses raised and GO!!
header photo by Cotonbro @pexels
