I think I reached the bottom of my emotional roller coaster yesterday. I was slammed with a huge tsunami-like wave of guilt. This stupid injury has robbed me of the quality time I had planned to spend with Isaac this summer. Our frequent trips on the boat - which I have immensely enjoyed and cherished - halted abruptly 3 weeks ago. We hope to get out there again in the next week or so, but the rest of our summer plans are all mucked up. I can't take my boy climbing or hiking or backpacking or biking, all things we talked about doing this summer.
This has led me to second-guess every choice I have made, especially when I chose to spend time working on myself and my goals (without the kids). Sure, we have gone skiing in Utah, and hiking in Utah, Washington, and Colorado, but there have also been long periods where Isaac spent time with his dad and his grandmother (my mom) while I biked thousands of miles with Shan. Losing time with Isaac this summer makes me wish we had spent more time together before. Yesterday I was repeating to myself that once it's passed, the time is gone. Which, ironically, is why I went on those cycling trips to begin with - I'm not getting any younger and when an opportunity presents itself, you have to say yes, right? Right? I don't know. Maybe I fucked up as a mother - maybe I didn't. But I can't go back in time and change things, I have to accept that the past is in the past, and remember this guilt as I look to the future. And whatever the "right" answer is, it didn't matter yesterday, because I was despondent. The tears flowed freely. Shan comforted me, and I let him.
I read somewhere that having this broken leg would change me, an idea that I welcome. Yes, terrible, unexpected, poorly timed injury, please show me the way!
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