This was originally sent as a newsletter for Of Pens & Paintbrushes. If you’d like to get this directly in your inbox, you can sign up here, at the Newsletter sign up page.
First off: The Orlando Pen Show was incredible. If you ever have a chance to go, do it. It won’t be my last pen show, not if I have anything to say about it. The people were amazing, the pens were stunning, the atmosphere and vibe were more like a party than a trade show. We sold out of a couple inks, a few pens found collectors, and I made more new friends and talked to more people than I have in two and a half days than I have in the entire last year combined. It was AWESOME.
Speaking of inks selling out, I’ve been working on restocking and with two batches heading for bottling, the inks we’re keeping around are now back in the shop for ordering. So are a good number of the Bebe pens I took down before the show, and I’m working my way through the new pens as the camera battery allows. There’s around 15 Bebes on the way, so keep an eye out over the next couple of days. (Chimera and Celestial sold, but I’m making more once I get caught up.) Also, Basic Witch soap is available for pre-order. I know some of you have been waiting on that.
And off we go.
We’re finally having the roof replaced (it’s very loud) almost a year after Hurricane Ian damaged it. It’s been months of delays, phone calls, and red-tape stress, but it’s finally getting done. For that, and for being fortunate enough that I can have it done, I am immensely grateful. I feel guilty-lucky at times and so I may be overcompensating by letting things slide that someone else might have not tolerated. It hasn’t hurt me in any significant way; at worst it was just one more incomplete thing in a long list of incomplete things hanging over my head. It bothered me, but look, I know everyone is doing the best they can, even if their best might not be very good some days. I have my share of those days. (Often.) So, I try to let go of whatever I can, give grace whenever possible.
The roof repairs being delayed had been reaching a fever pitch as of late, however. The mortgage company had been starting to hound me about it not being done, and hurricane season was starting to throw storms at us. It was starting to wear on me, and it was the big thing at the top of that list of incomplete things I kept having to either explain or make phone calls about. That list was getting longer and longer.
But I was holding it together.
I even held it together and found the silver lining when we lost two truck tires and discovered the front brakes on the truck were gone on the same day this week. Silver lining: I made it home from the Orlando show two days before safely, and no one was hurt because we found the tire issues before driving on them that Monday.
The roofers gave me 12 hours notice on their starting. They called 7pm and were here at 7am the next day. I don’t like that little notice, but I can handle it.
I was even handling the noise, and people, and never-ending dog barking while they worked on the roof. I was even still getting work done, albeit with some ranting on social media.
Then the roofers backed over and parked the dumpster trailer on top of the memorial roses I planted after Steve died. On his birthday.
I had been holding it together – threadbare, but together. Had. After finding the trailer parked on the roses, I just sat down and sobbed, finally overwhelmed.
Thing is, I had also been telling myself that I was doing just fine in an attempt to be just fine. That I was happy, proud of myself, moving forward, healing, growing, living for me, that I was handling everything really well. It had become a mantra over the last month, a month of giving everything my all in order to get everything done and not disappoint anyone. I was going to be really, truly okay. This was not going to stop me, nor was that, or this, or that other thing. Yes, it was a lot, but I was handling it. I wasn’t going to let anyone know how hard it was, either. I wasn’t going to let anyone know or even let myself privately sink into grief when I seemed to be doing so well. Not even on his birthday. I wasn’t going to give ground and have to expend energy to regain it.
(Even though I know that’s not how it works. Sometimes the brain gremlins win the day.)
Nope, I was not going to give in, not even when I wanted so badly to be able to tell Steve about what I had accomplished this last month, to celebrate with someone who understood how hard it was for me, but couldn’t. Even when all I wanted was to commiserate with someone else in the situation about the fiasco of the roof, to hand off some of the phone calls and management to someone else so I could take a few minutes to breathe and recover. I wasn’t going to let myself face with and then wrestle with the contrast of loving the life I’m building and the elation of the show’s success with knowing it was only possible that I did what I had done because he was gone. I didn’t have the extra space, time, energy, or spoons. Nor was I going to let anyone know how hard it was or how much it ached. I didn’t want to risk being pitied and cut off from happy moments because grief is seen as a wet blanket, and people aren’t taught how to handle grief and hard feelings. I didn’t want to be lonely like that again, not after making so many amazing friends and working so hard to find happy again. I didn’t want to be known as the sad widow to them – or to myself.
Grief being seen as a burden, or wet blanket? That’s not my imagination. I’ve talked to so many people who have experienced similar responses from others. Years ago, I had someone tell me point blank that they couldn’t be around sad people, and so they couldn’t be around me. Honestly, I understood. I still do. Being around grief – even when it’s just occasional currents like it is now for me, it is hard. I don’t even like being around myself when it’s a more noticeable grief day. Those days when I miss having his support, friendship, love, laughter; a partner who picks up the things I can’t carry on overwhelming days like today, when I’ve already been running at capacity for weeks and have nothing left. I understand not wanting to be around something that emotionally challenging when you have the option not to be around it, when you can choose something easier. People already have plenty of hard things in their lives; there’s no reason to choose someone like me who is only going to add more complicated, challenging, uncomfortable, hard aspects when there is something easier out there. I understood, and I still understand.
Just like I understood that the roofers probably didn’t see the roses because I hadn’t gotten around to weeding the garden beds in a while and they probably didn’t look like much, even as the pink blooms waved above the grass. I understand that for some people, they don’t feel the need to look carefully, and even more often, if it’s not easily visible and well maintained, they won’t look at all. The roses are not noticed when surrounded by weeds. The reasons why the weeds are there don’t matter if they aren’t your roses.
I love my roses, and understanding the reasons why they were run over doesn’t change the fact that they were run over because someone wasn’t careful.
A. Markov
And I called the office. They’ll be taking the cost of replacing the roses off the roofing bill.
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This was originally sent as a newsletter for Of Pens & Paintbrushes. If you’d like to get this directly in your inbox, you can sign up here, at the Newsletter sign up page.