When I pick Brent up from work we talk about what we did with our days. His work stuff, my house stuff. This past week it's all been sorting and cleaning from me. I've been getting rid of extra things and I have a plan to tackle the whole house by mid-June.
He listened on Wednesday to my plan to get rid of some things that are tucked away not really in the way of anything in a space that we don't really need, "Hunh, normally I know what triggers the crazy. This time I'm not sure."
"It's June."
"Ah."
See, one of my crazy things is tossing out our things. My family back home tends to lean toward the hoarder side. When I was growing up one of my responsibilities was cleaning the house. It made me crazy that I couldn't keep it clean for more than a few minutes. The sheer amount of STUFF that had to be moved to dust or vacuum, the piles of things I would send to respective bedrooms that would migrate right back out the to common areas, it made me nuts. But growing up poor I really do love the fact that I can have things now. Books and pretty things that do nothing but look pretty, coloring books, magnets, just stuff. So "my crazy" is that I don't like stuff to be around but I still like stuff to have.
So it's a weird balancing act.
I reach a point where I look around the house and see too much clutter and I get rid of a lot of stuff. Then I regret that I got rid of a lot of stuff because it was something I was sentimentally attached to, or something that I might not use often but when I needed it, it was the only thing that would work. The normal trigger is trip home. Being in my mother's house with the abundance of stuff makes me itchy. I know from experience it's not clean enough. There is no way to dust around that many knick knacks. Plus a few dogs and cats to add hair to every surface? And living in a desert? It's dusty and furry and it makes me go home, deep clean and toss my own stuff. Which I then regret because I no longer have my stuff.
Over the years I've come up with a stop gap. I sort and "toss" but instead of driving right over to the thrift shop to donate it sits in the garage on a shelf for a few months. If I don't go pull it back then it can go away. But I have pulled back enough stuff now to know it's a good system. And I try really hard not to worry about things that are tucked away. And to get Brent to understand the oddness in my hatred of clutter and yet still having piles of things I'm working on. I know it's crazy, but it's my crazy and he's used to it now. I have other good points that keep all of my crazy things in the he deals with it column.
But there was no trip home to trigger it this year.
Just June.
June is a hard month for me. Or at least the first half. I've talked before about how much it shocks me that losing my dad affected me so much. I left home at 18 and I was incredibly independent before that, partly because that's who I am and partly because my parents really didn't want to be parenting by the time I came around. I am much younger than my siblings and I was unplanned. In fact not only unplanned but planned against. Condoms don't always work, kids, this is your lesson. Anyway...my mother tells a story about being in the hospital with me right after I was born and telling me that they had already rearranged their lives for kids and they weren't doing it again. I would be setting my schedule to theirs. And so I was on three meals a day and sleeping through the night very early. My mother has a very strong will.
But that sort of set up how I was raised. They took a much less active role in my upbringing. My oldest brother talks about how it was like we had different parents. And it's pretty true, we did. The ones that raised him were reeling from the loss of their first baby Marsha at birth, and the loss of another baby Marcia after John was born, and then the loss of our brother Mark when he was only 6 or 7, and having John, Jeff and Susan still to take care of when they probably wanted to just stop and grieve. By the time I was born they thought they were out of the baby business and were starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. John was 14 and in high school, Susan (the youngest) was 7 and in school full time as well. They were on the downslope.
In some ways it worked out fine. I became a pretty good problem solver and I am not one to need anyone's approval for what I am doing. In other ways it was disastrous, the stretch where my sister was having her issues which became my issues and I didn't feel like I had anyone to turn to, to protect me. It all leaves marks.
But all of it together made me an independent child who left home at 18 and lived a pretty separate life. So I was surprised when Dad died how hard it hit me. I hadn't been a Daddy's girl. I wasn't tied to my family back in New Mexico for my daily existence. But just having him there. Knowing he was around if I needed him. Knowing he was there for my mother, who needed him to balance herself out. Well it hit me hard. And continues to hit me hard at times.
Like June.
June is a hard month. At least until after Father's Day passes and I can get out of the bog of memories of the phone call and the trip home and the funeral. And each year it's hard in a different way. And each year it's a surprise that it's still hard. Like really, it's been 8 years, I should be able to mark it as a date and not dwell. But dwell I do. I get very introspective. Even for me. And I'm a navel gazer from way back. I get very emotional and moody and withdrawn. Things affect me that wouldn't normally. But I'm aware of it, so I deal with it.
This year the way I chose to deal with it was by focusing on the house. Getting things cleared out that needed cleared. Cleaning things that needed cleaned. It was a good plan except that it isn't really working. It's a manic task and I'm not manic in June. At least in the first half. But I'm still plugging away at it. It's enough to keep me busy. Which is what my dad would want. He was a busy guy. So I will keep busy too.
And that's really what June brings. A time to reconnect with the man that raised me. The quiet man. The dedicated man. The family man. The good man. And to clear out the clutter of the stuff that doesn't matter. June is hard. But it's also good.
Remember those that you've lost.
Honor them in your own way.
Live your crazy everyday.
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