We woke up without heat. The landlord turned off the electricity for the basement unit, and somehow that meant the other two would loose their warmth.
There was a time I would have powered through, but I cried. I am a long way from being in my early twenties trying to prove to myself I can handle motherhood and whatever else without a tear. I cried when my son came in, and I realized he had had a growth spurt. He explained that every blanket in the house is on his bed, so he didn't notice the cold.
I hid my tears.
We made our way out the house and into Evanston for breakfast. It's not my fault we don't have heat. It doesn't change the shame.
Maintenace apologized. They are fixing the issue. We are headed to brunch. I still feel shame.
These past 15 months have presented more challenges than any other point in my life, and I have kept moving forward. When my sister called last summer to let me know my uncle died, my Lyft redirected the ride, and I got there just in time to hold his cold dead hand. We got lost. The Lyft diver got confused. My uncle died, and I wasn't there. A mistake is a moment in time.
Other peoples mistakes can have a considerable effect on us. They can change things significantly for us. Some moments stretch into a lifetime.
I needed to break, and it is the staw that does it. I needed to throw my hands up and acknowledge that I am not who I was before. That now I am someone who expects comfort. I am kind to myself. I see that what I thought was being realistic was a thinly veiled expectation of suffering.
Now, I will make the lemonade, but I want it with rose water and agave nectar.
and I do not need more lemons.