Learning a Language

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For Christmas last year, my husband got us a CD/book set for learning Spanish. It’s a language both of us have tried to learn – rather unsuccessfully – in the past, but since there is a large Spanish-speaking population in our area and we both believe in exercising our brain muscles for better ‘mental health’, we’re slowly but surely giving it a try.

Mostly, this consists of confidently repeating phrases along with the CD and then flailing (and failing) linguistically in other (read: real-life) situations, but a few words have stuck in our memories and we try to use them with one another on a daily basis.

Currently, the most commonly used phrase in the Fever household is ire la douche, which is “shower” in English.

I’m pretty sure it means ‘shower’ in the noun sense of the word (or maybe ‘go shower’?), but we use it like a verb (because, what? parts of speech are a thing?) and occasionally link additional SpanFeveLish phrases onto it. Such as, currently (given as an order, from me to him):

Ire la douche, stinky la Smotch-a.

(For those of you who don’t know: My husband’s nickname is Smotch.)

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Kid

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^ THAT ^

…is a goat…

in a tree.

No kidding.

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Joke

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And now, for some lighter fare:

Q: What did the salad say to the dressing when it was time to go?

A: Lettuce leave!

April A to Z Blogging Challenge: Letter J

Emotional Flood: Impacts of Hidden Grief

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woman facing the camera wearing a vulnerable expression behind a fall of wet curly hair

Caught Unawares

It doesn’t take anything at all.

A sincere “thank you” will do it. A song on the radio. Someone else expressing sorrow – or confusion, anger, relief, rebellion – over a loss of their own.

And the tears well.

Sometimes it’s a quote. A scene in a movie. Seeing a faded wedding photograph of people I never knew but whose story is impactful in some way.

I breathe in…

And it is as though a dam springs a leak somewhere deep inside my chest.

It happens in completely unexpected ways, and is triggered by anything and everything and nothing at all. Something beautiful. Terrible. Hope-filled. Poignant.

All of it. Any of it.

Catch me at the wrong time, in a moment where I’m not prepared for the emotional effect – regardless of whether it’s intentionally wrought – and what do I do?

I cry.

The tears well like a rising tide. The dam bursts.

Feelings – the ones that have been running so high, churning turbulent just under the surface – flood forth and I can do nothing to stop it.

CONTENT NOTE: Those of you who are familiar with my sense of humor will be able to recognize it in this post, but in all fairness, this is topic is a bit heavier than my ‘usual’ (if I have such a thing as a ‘usual’). The text below discusses childhood familial dysfunction, childbirth and miscarriage, death, emotional loss, and grief. If any of those topics are likely to cause you distress, feel free to give this one a miss.

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