Friday, June 27, 2014

Breaking the Silence

I could tell you where I've been, but I don't know. I don't even know where I am. I'm on the couch, but I'm not. Everywhere I've been, I haven't. (Been.) I'm in hot pursuit of myself.

Someone has stolen my words. It seems possible that I'm the someone: that I've swallowed my own words, that they've coated my belly with dust. I feel a little sick.

Yesterday was my mother-in-law's birthday. I'd forgotten, but Jim reminded me. I don't feel like we've talked much since her funeral. We've argued some. We've kept busy.

I'm forcing myself, just now, to stay still while awake, and if I'm honest, so much of what I've done, lately, has been part of a great effort to ward off depression. At least three times in the last couple weeks, I've done each of the things I do when I'm trying to avoid the pit. Some of them more.

I'm not in the pit. Still, I feel the heat rising from its yawning mouth. I look through the heat, and like gasoline fumes it distorts everything. You know what I mean. You've stood, haven't you?, at the pump in your flip-flops, the sun beating down, the go-go juice evaporating even as it pours into your tank. Maybe you haven't. I'm an expert in such matters. My tank is bottomless, the hot, black road the best lover I've ever had.

The sadness: it's not about my mother-in-law. It is, however, about change and the passage of time. My niece Brandi had a baby on Wednesday. She's perfect. I love her, already. But where has the time gone? Because it seems like just yesterday that Andrea, Brandi, Cade, and I were living together: that the kids were twelve and four, that I was reading The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to them. But it wasn't yesterday. It was ten years ago. Cade will start high school in the fall. I don't know if I'm ready.

Clementine's old enough, now, for kindergarten, and I don't know if I'm ready. It's time to submit a notice of intent, and I don't know if I'm ready. Baby Chip isn't a baby, anymore; I'm prone to bursting into tears about it.

I can't say for sure that I've loved anyone well enough, ever; yet, I'm so tired from the trying.

Cade and Baby Haven

No one wants his or her own sadness, let alone someone else's. You don't want mine. I know this, so I stop writing. I don't want your sadness, either, but I'll take it. I'll do my best to drown it in the lake. I'll carry it with me in the minivan, burning up the road, the brakes, tanks full of gas; driving toward I-don't-know-what; driving away from so much more. Or not. (It doesn't work, most times.)

In case you're like me and don't know what to do with sadness, I'll take it. Send me an e-mail. Talk to me.


  1. Praying for you in all these changes. Let me know if you want to talk about schooling, notices of intent and all that.....K

  2. I love you BRANDEE , I am here for you , I 'll take your sadness as you and the lord both know you have taken a ton of mine....

  3. My dearest friend I will take your sadness and add it to my own. I have swam through its murky deeps for what going on 12 years now? I will celebrate the date of the beginning of my deepest sadness on June 29 yet again with my tears and silence and there is nothing I can say or do to make it better. I have learned to live with the darkness yet I appreciate the light when it peeks through. I have come to terms with my sadness and its many facets and faces, yet I cannot banish it as I wish I could. So my dearest forever friend I will take your sadness and add it to my own and we will sit in it together until there is a moment of laughter and joy that drives it away..t. But I am always here for you..willing to take your sadness and make it my own. Love to you

  4. Brandee,
    Those of us who are friends are more than willing to help you carry your sadness. Lord knows my blogger friends have helped my carry mine over the past 4 years!

    I think in life, we all go through some low points. I know just in the last 2 weeks, I was ready to simply walk out of my office - with no plan - just because of how bad it's been. But it got better. I look at Cade with his new cousin (I think?), and see nothing but happiness and joy and "OH MY GOD I'M A BIG BROTHER TO THIS TINY BABY" and that just brings a happiness to my heart. I know it does to yours, too.

    Please feel free to share your sadness. Farming out the burden means more of us can help you bear it. And we'll gladly do it.

    I can figure that starting home schooling for Clementine can be scary, but I know you're up to it. It will also set the others on an early start, so they'll be ahead of the pack! Every home schooled kid I worked with over 30 years of scouting was great, and also ahead of the pack.

    Always keeping you and yours in my prayers, Brandee!

    Peace <3

  5. Dear Brandee, I will carry your sadness to the Lord along with my own. You've written it so beautifully, I'll just leave it with your words and go to the Lord in prayer for both of us. He will carry you through! Bless you~

  6. let's cry together, I have a friend who has called in this stat or I in this stat and we would just sit on the phone, hear sniffing but that is about it, no words, just a friend close by. These were the best conversations I think I have ever had. Sadness sometimes just needs silence but that silence needs to be heard.........I know you know what I mean.

    Love you, call me

  7. Actually, Brandee, we DO want your sadness. We care about you and want to walk the journey with you, wherever it is taking you. I'm sorry this is a dark time - but I am not surprised. It's been a rugged few months for you - make space for the grief, the sadness and don't try to rush through it. We're with you, friend. We really are.

  8. Brandee,

    I was glad to see your words here, and in my blog inbox, I had missed your voice. Your voice can be here whether it is happy or sad. Just be you. Write, read, or sit quiet, but you are safe to be you. I'm sorry about the pit. I don't know a lot about that, I admit, but I am familiar with my own seasons of fewer words and harder moments. They come and go, and I grab tight to verses that just whisper in and out of my head "I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word, I put my hope." He loves you, and your words are safe, no matter what they carry.

    Sorry for this hard season you are in. No cliches for you, just honesty from my own life, and a pausing here.... silence? Because that's usually more valuable than words.... If you lived closer, we could grab coffee, and sit silent in the shade.

    Jennifer Dougan