The ghost of me

It’s Misty’s first birthday tomorrow. I wanted to go for a run this morning, but by breakfast I was feeling very flat. I was exhausted and I had no idea why. It wasn’t until dinner time that I started to piece it together.

A few months ago I started organising a mini maker’s exchange with some lovely friends. It was going to be so adorable. Baked goods, crochet, homemade kombucha, maybe some whittled spoons…
I got some awesome women on board and excited, sussed out and penciled in a date, and then ghosted everyone. I evaporated off the face of the earth. I have to message them to postpone, because I’ve run out of time. I’m probably embarrassed to explain why.

At the beginning of the year we realised we were all in need of an intimate homeschool community to catch up with on a regular basis. Waldorf vibes. Earthy personalities. Homely and relaxed. I told everyone I was thinking of starting one. We pulled away from a large homeschool community in our town and then…I did nothing.

Eleven years ago last month, my sister’s fiancé Justin passed away out of the blue. His wedding ring had arrived that very day. Later that night my sister clutched it tightly, curled up in a ball on my parent’s dining room floor, her tears all spent as she whispered, “What do I do? I don’t know what to do.”

Between the beginning of the year and now, we have celebrated Halo’s birthday, Easter, our anniversary, about six cousin birthdays and now Misty’s tomorrow. It wasn’t until dinner time tonight when I noticed I had been holding my breath whilst she ate her pasta, that I realised I have been in a chronic state of what I call my Special Occasion Anxiety. I had spent all day believing that she wouldn’t make it to her first birthday and trying to avoid circumstances that would make this come true. At its most manageable, that means avoiding car rides and keeping her away from power points. At its worst it means only feeding her liquids and staying awake all night watching her chest rise and fall.