Philly: Linvilla Orchards

I could write about this beautiful day of picking fruit at a local orchard and have everyone think this blog is for my readers to feel like they should have their summer shit together just like me...

I could link you to Linvilla Orchards and suggest you go. I could write about our summer bucket list and all the things we do to make summer magical and subtly imply my parenting superiority. 

But the truth is, two days ago I was crumbling. I don't have my shit together for that subtle implication. I never have my shit together. We were picking fruit because I needed to get my big girl panties on, get out of my house and drive the mean reds away. And I'll be damned if I use this space to pretend like that part of life doesn't take over and drive some times. 

I believe in feeling my feelings. On Monday, those feelings, well, they hit hard. I was sad and angry. I felt lonely. And irritated. And itchy (all of my indoor plants have been infested by fungus gnats and even though the internet says they do nothing, my brain makes me feel itchy just by proximity!). I wallowed in those feelings for a full day. I took a big ol' mud bath in them. I cried for my loneliness and for missing my Black Spruce Court. I missed Jackie and Keri and googled $900 flights to go back this weekend and see Rachel's new baby. I yelled at God for Dawn's cancer. And then I yelled at Him some more for taking me away from her. I was angry over the wrinkles on my forehead and the acne on my back. I stomped around in anger over this stupid house that needs a stupid-expensive renovation. I blamed Mike for his stupid job that moved us to a stupid new part of the country and for not being able to find whatever stupid box holds my yellow forsythia stems that I want to put on the stupid fireplace and for having to hang stupid things on the stupid wall AGAIN. I didn't want to wash my hair AGAIN or to do the dishes AGAIN or clean the laundry AGAIN. I was feeling so sick of starting over. 

Luckily, I also believe in coping with my feelings. I've been down the road where I don't cope, and trust me, that road gets dark. Really, really dark.

It's important to me that my children learn to cope as well. I don't want to hide my feelings from them. Pretending like I'm always happy and everything is easy doesn't serve them well. I want them to see that I struggle, that emotions come, but that I do the work to move forward.  So... I feel the feels and then I do the work. I've found my best defense against spiraling into any overwhelming emotion is to be vulnerable -- to take my feelings and give them to the world -- admit how I feel. Sometimes I do this with pen and paper (or fingertips and keyboard). And sometimes I do this with talking. Whatever method, it's best to get it OUT. 

Once I get how I am feeling out of me, the feelings become organized. Inside they swirl around like a carnival ride. But outside, they take shape and form, become almost tangible. Tackle-able.  Once I can see what exactly I'm fighting, I can fight. I can get up and do the damn day. 

So here we are doing the day. And it was a really good one. And now I feel better.