70 Degrees (Fahrenheit) of Separation

We returned from our two weeks in Florida on Friday. Our moms sent us there to escape the cold North and relax. The first goal was easy. At one point Google weather reported an over 70-degree temperature difference between Clearwater and Ann Arbor. I found relaxing more difficult to achieve. Fun we had plenty of for sure – swimming in the Gulf (actually I was the only person I saw doing that – the water was only 62-degrees), sitting in the hot tub, walking on the beach, and drinking more than enough wine and martinis. I definitely made up for my months of sobriety. There were moments when I felt at ease, but I never quite accomplished a complete escape. Sadness and moodiness still prevail much more often than is the “norm” for me.

Wacky dreams are the clearest sign that I’m still strung out (in the emotionally exhausted, not drug induced, sense of the phrase). Saturday night I dreamt, for example, that someone served me a glass of wine in a margarita glass and I was so insulted, I wouldn’t drink it. Last night, I dreamt of being chased in a public restroom by ugly vampires. The weirdest part? At one point I looked in the mirror and saw that I was a Haredi man (a certain type of Orthodox Jew). But then suddenly I wasn’t, instead he was just helping me fight the monsters while valiantly avoiding touching any females. It’s not strange for me to have vivid or lucid dreams but what’s really striking is the intensity of my anger in them. Of course anyone would be perturbed if vampires attacked, but I was still angry when I woke up. I think I scream a lot in my dreams too these days.

2 responses to “70 Degrees (Fahrenheit) of Separation

  1. Hi Sara,

    I’m so sorry to hear about Natan. I wanted to let you know that you did come off as supportive when you commented on my post. Also, anger is something that many (most) of us have a lot of as we learn to become mothers without children.

    I can also relate to your feelings on your trip of not feeling able to really escape on your trip. I’ve felt that way too. People often ask why we aren’t traveling more, and right now it is partly due to knowing that I won’t really feel “better” anywhere else. No other place will stop me from aching.

    Hugs and good wishes

  2. Thanks, Sarah. It really sucks that we even have other women to relate to about having lost our children, but given that we do, I’m glad to have found your blog.


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