Light and Shade

I suppose I am standing in the shadow cast by the mountainous pile of THINGS THAT MUST BE DONE that I am not getting done. I don’t ever need to hear what I’m not doing or not doing right. Although I often sacrifice “done right” for “done at all.” Because I have the classic need to “procrastinate until it can be done perfectly” syndrome to circumvent. Which can only be gotten around by the doing anyway. 

I read in a book years ago that, for some of us, the saying “anything worth doing, is worth doing right” should be changed to “anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.” Because at least it will have been done. 

Much of my angst and turmoil stems from that mountain of things I need to do. And my uncertainness of my ability to accomplish them. 

Yesterday I had a doctor appointment to get started with getting on track with my meds again (stimulants for ADD and anti anxiety for anxiety and to chill my reaction with the stimulants). 

Today I have already had a good cry and feel lighter. 

Only because of one small thing. The tiny bit of positive reinforcement that I got for her about the things she sees that I am doing right. 

I am a widow. And a mother of a 12 year old boy (they are known for singing the praises of their mothers, yes?). 

I am sadly lacking in appreciation right now. Even before, my husband was not an overly demonstrative man in that way. And then he became ill and he wasn’t demonstrative in any way, busy as he was with the whole pain and not dying business. 

It’s one of the reasons we medicate ourselves. With drugs or food or sex or books. When you are in the shadows, you’ll do whatever is necessary to give yourself a lightening. Even if it turns out it was lightning and you end up singed. 

So today there is a little beam of light pushing aside the shadow of Shoulds just a little. And I feel lighter for it. 

Risk Averse

I was just looking at a post on Facebook by Humans of New York. It was a picture of a nice looking guy who was dressed well and the caption said, “I wish I’d made more mistakes.”

It struck me that while I’ve made mistakes. Plenty of them. I don’t think I’ve really risked anything that really mattered. I’ve not put everything on the line for the big payoff.

I tend to play small when it comes to things that it might really matter. Because they matter. And I think that having them a little might hurt less than not having them at all.

This is flawed logic. But I think it’s the logic my heart/brain has been using.

I’m working very hard to change that.


I have been feeling like I need to be writing again. More and more. Hopefully that will land here. I need to get over the excuse that I don’t have WordPress downloaded on my phone which matters because I don’t have internet at home right now other than on my cellphone. But really its just another thing that I’ve put off arranging. Now that words are starting to bubble up again I think. I hope. I do. I need to make it more easy for me to put them somewhere.

Mother. May. I…


I’m not feeling particularly able to put thoughts cohesively together on paper right now very much. But I pretty much feel the same as back when I wrote this in 2012. Today is the in between day, and filled with angsty energy.

Originally posted on to be dancing... a novelty yarn:

She was born in 1956. She would be 56 this year. Just a quick 20 years older than I.

Being as her birthday is the 13th of May, it is always engaged in a dance with the Mother’s Day.

Occasionally they meet up.

Like today.

Last year was the first Mother’s Day since she’d been gone and her birthday was on the Friday before it. I don’t know yet if it’s harder this way or not. I’ll hazard a guess that every year will be hard in its own unique way.

This year, I would have loved for her to see me hanging my BFA Senior Art Show which opened on Thursday. and graduating next month. and, of course, how big and strong and cool her favorite (and only) grandson is growing up to be. These things hurt my heart.

But we will not dwell on them too long, for…

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These in Between Times

When I was young, I had no money. I made little money and didn’t get to go do things that cost money very often. But I also had no debt.  I didn’t have a lot of income, but it was okay because I had very little out-go. The same cannot be said now. My husband made a very good living for us by virtue of having served his country in the Marine Corps and having been disabled while in service. He received money from the VA and also from Social Security. As his dependent spouse and son, we now receive a benefit from Social Security which is about a third of what our income was prior to his death. As his dependent spouse and son, we now receive from the VA, absolutely nothing.

Our income has dropped by about 2/3 and our bills and debt have stayed the same. Additionally, the VA decided that they overpaid us one month at his rate while he was alive and they took it back on the first of March. I am selling everything that I can to make ends meet. In a couple or few months, I should be getting a little money from my mom’s probate having finally processed. We will eventually be okay. If we can pay off our debts and reduce our cost of living to essentials.

But in the meantime we are overdrawn and haven’t paid much more than the mortgage payment in two months.  We’ve sold a lot of things, but that has kept us in food, gas, and daily living expenses rather than being enough to pay  the bills and start to fill in this hole that keeps getting deeper and deeper.  My friend wanted to help me by giving me some money. She asked if I had a support account so that people could donate to help with this harsh transition. I said that I did not and didn’t even know how to do that. She encouraged me to talk to the bank as they should be able to help with that.

I did and after some struggle (they didn’t want to do it because I was overdrawn) I was able to open a donation account to allow anyone to walk into any Wells Fargo and deposit money in the Alan (Hewitt) Memorial Fund account. (account #9006351614)

I went to put a notice in the local newsletter/paper thingy, but could not because a service organization didn’t sponsor me. I am not a member of any service organizations, churches, clubs or anything like that. So, I did it myself and I feel extremely awkward asking an organization to sponsor me after the fact. Like many people, I am not very good at asking for help or asserting myself, so all of this is is extremely difficult to make myself do.

But, I am smart enough to know when I need to step out from behind my pride and fear to ask for help. I can’t do this on my own. Any little bit will help. And if you can’t help monetarily, please share this so maybe someone else can.

Thank you


A thing that I find funny, you know, in that funny-not funny way that things sometimes are in life (and death) is a little tidbit regarding my mom and my husband.
They both loved me (us) very much and wanted to take care of me (us) in the best way that they knew how. They just really disagreed on what that looked like.
So, while they could put aside their differences sometimes, they could also really, really, not get along at other times.
Now that they are both gone, we are going through some rough transitional times, but ultimately, it will end up that between the benefits we receive from Al’s disability and the income we will end up getting from mom’s estate, we will be okay. And it will be roughly in half as to who the support comes from.
So they will have managed to work together to take care of us “one last time,” in spite of their differences.

I like to think that they aren’t burdened by petty squabbles any more and can see each others’ motives clearly now. So that will help them to work together to help us as time passes. Between the two of them (and others, of course) we have a pretty damn good team working for us.


Today I miss your arms wrapped around me offering comfort and protection from the sorrows and trials of the world outside the circle of your embrace. What do I do when the very sorrow that I need comfort from is the loss of you and your protective love. The physicalness of you is a lack I feel deeply, along with the many other losses to my heart, mind, and soul. I wish that you could hold me and comfort me to help me get over/through the loss of you. When we first danced together, I knew I wanted to be held in your arms for a long, long time. I got my wish, but I am greedy and would have much more. Your death has left me standing alone on the dance floor with no one to partner me. I don’t know the steps to this solo dance and don’t know the next move to make or where to turn.

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