Leaning Into The Darkness Isn’t Working Anymore

I want more than just a patchwork quilt of pseudo-happiness. I want the real thing.

Amber sky above my house caused by wildfire smoke — Photo by author

I’ve been the fixer in my family for as long as I’ve had a family. Well, not literally. My husband is the handy one — he fixes stuff when it breaks. I’m a metaphorical fixer.

I keep the laundry train chugging along, make sure the cars are inspected, the insurance policies are paid, the appointments are scheduled and rememberd (doctor, dentist, vet). I’m the worrier, the nagger, and the we-need-to-call-your-mother-to-figure-out-the-holidays event planner.

When, at age 11, my daughter got sick, I became her healthcare advocate — researching every treatment option and procedure and reaching out to specialists. I tracked her lab results, symptoms, weight, and mood as if writing it all down in a spreadsheet could stop the tumors from growing.

When she died in 2017, I stepped back from the constant hamster wheel of fixing and orchestrating, but only briefly. I picked it up within a few months, focusing on getting my younger daughter through the misery of early grief. I still had bills to pay and people to please. The car still needed to be inspected.

Pausing for too long has never been an option for me. When I stop doing, I start…