I love how Parker wakes up in the morning. He calls out, “Mooommm!! The morning is awake!”
That is not at all how I wake up. I am not a natural morning person and the very reason I wake up so early is so that by the time I have to be around people, I’m fully awake and pleasant. The past couple months, however, I have been tired and grumpy for a large part of every day. I can’t seem to get enough sleep, no matter what time I get to bed. (Or how late I sleep.)
Sometimes we go through times in our lives where we feel dark and gloomy. I’m sort of in one of those times right now. It’s hard to admit this publicly, and I know I don’t have to, but for the sake of transparency, I will. I have spent the past few months enjoying the routine of our lives, settling back into the US, land of free refills and ice in drinks everywhere. I love being back in the land of the free and home of the brave.
But something is just not right in my heart… my soul. Something.
I shared all of this with Matt, including some of the “symptoms” I had been noticing: tiredness, grumpiness, irritability, lack of joy in writing/photography. He said what I had thought, that it sounds like depression.
We talked through many of the situations surrounding me right now and pin-pointed a few things that could be causing this.
Moving overseas is the biggest and most obvious: we just left the place where we brought Parker home to; I am homesick for that house. I close my eyes and see everything in its place, even the messy rooms where things were often out of place. I miss having my upstairs neighbor close by for a quick chat whenever I needed her. I miss her kiddos and this is all the more real as Parker is wearing some of her youngest son’s hand-me-downs. I miss each of my sons having their own room. I miss my front balcony which was wonderful for coffee chats. I miss the huge kitchen where everything fit in its own space (no garage-storage necessary). I miss that house. I miss it. It was our home. I cry often over that house.
I miss the friends we made there. I miss the closeness of the relationships I had there… the fact that I had a standing weekly Tuesday coffee date with Aimee that I looked forward to as much as any other activity in my calendar. I miss that I didn’t have to invite friends over, but they knew they were welcome. I miss having friends who knew my good side and my bad side. Friends who would hold me accountable in my spiritual walk and my physical walk, encouraging me along my “Made to Crave” journey. I miss our girls’ nights even though there was only one place open late enough to house our chit-chat… the Wiesbaden Entertainment Center.
I miss Aimee stopping by my house at least once a week to borrow my refrigerator and freezer while she ran other errands around town. I miss the view from her living-room window that made me melt and the miles between our houses every bit worth traveling. I miss my baby having a best friend to beat around with (or beat up, depending on the day).
I miss my boys’ very close homeschool group, people they had exercised and learned with for three years. I miss the other moms in the group who were uplifting and encouraging in this choice of a career: mom/teacher/housekeeper/everything-the-kids-need-provider.
Thinking back to when we moved overseas to Germany, I’ve tried to remember if my homesickness for Colorado was as strong in late 2009/early 2010 as it is now for Germany. Matt made a good point… when we moved there, I was expecting Parker and he gave me plenty to keep my mind focused on. I’m sure I did miss Colorado dreadfully, but I had a new life of my own to care for and new adventures to explore in Europe. Going from Germany back to the states has been much more painful than I expected. I knew it’d be hard to leave. I knew I’d miss that kitchen. It. was. huge. But I didn’t realize I’d find myself still grieving to this degree in April. I thoroughly expected to be grieving like this in January, when my heart realized what my mind knew… that our travels over the ocean were not a visit for Christmas; they were not to be followed by a return trip… a trip back “home.” A trip back to my friends. To my house. To my adventure-filled life in Europe….
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…stay tuned for Parts 2 and 3 of “The Morning is Awake.” I promise… the story eventually ends on a happier note than Part 1.