It’s July 4 and I still have not handed in our taxes.
I am an awful procrastinator at the best of times but usually when given a deadline I can get my head in the game and complete the task at hand with very little sleep and a whole lot of coffee.
Completing tasks has not been something that I have been doing much of lately.
Honestly I kind of feel like I’m failing at life.
My vegetable garden is basically non-existent, Willas garden is getting taken over by weeds, my horses are standing in the corral not being rode, my coop needs to be cleaned again, my customer care for my fruit and veggie business has been sub-par, I have laundry coming out of my yin-yang, kombucha that should have been bottled last week, and my fridge hasn’t been cleaned out in ages.
I feel like I am constantly busy but getting no where.
You may be asking yourself… “well if she isn’t doing any of the other stuff, how are their taxes still not done?”
I’ll tell you why.
I am unorganized.
Creative minds often tend to thrive in chaos and chaos is currently my life.
When we get papers in the mail that I don’t feel like dealing with, I throw them on top of this pretty little red cabinet in our kitchen….until I am forced to deal with them.
I have to be honest, there has been a pile of clutter and junk on top of that pretty little cabinet now for months.
I said I don’t mind chaos but clutter is not my thing.
I have walked by that cabinet piled high with junk for three months now.
Each time I have gone to get a glass of water, made supper for my family, boiled the kettle or unloaded groceries I have had to look at that pile and each time my heart has sunk and my anxiety has risen.
You may be thinking… “Wow she really doesn’t like taxes.”
The taxes and my dire procrastination aren’t what have kept me from cleaning that space…fear of the unknown is.
Everything from the day we lost our Willa and beyond has been piled there.
Bills, receipts, write-offs, pay stubs and t-4s.
Reminders of what we should have had.
Reminders of how life goes on.
Cards of sympathy.
Notes from organizations who support Still Born families.
Paperwork from the funeral home, the hospital and her death certificate.
The drawing of our memorial tattoo and a letter from the day my mom left us.
I haven’t felt ready.
I haven’t wanted to admit that I wasn’t ready.
So instead I have made every excuse under the sun about how much I fucking hate taxes, to get out of looking weak.
Tonight was the night, I had to start somewhere as we are falling behind on life.
I decided to compile the papers from above the fridge first… but that’s when I saw it.
The pregnancy test that still showed the two tiny pink lines, that had sat there since the day we found out about our second sweet baby.
Pregnancy tests are very significant to me, especially after all of our troubles trying to conceive our sweet Oaks. I never thought that getting pregnant the second time around would come easy for us… I kept that test because I wanted to remember the look on Chads face and the way I giggled at him for the rest of my life.
Underneath the test were multiple ultra-sound print offs that at the time were not my favourites of my girl, so I stashed them up there and chose my favourite for the fridge.
Those three tiny pictures that were stashed up there are now some of my most cherished possessions. They are memories of the happy times I was able to experience with my baby and sadly are some of the only photos I have.
Directly slid beside the pregnancy test were a tiny little pair of handmade moccasins from Chads childhood neighbours, that will never have the chance to be worn by whom they were meant for.
I continued to find one thing after another that reminded me of happy times throughout my pregnancy and then sadly times of the worst day of my life.
I compiled the papers we needed to finish the taxes, kissed my husband goodnight and cried by myself.
Tonight I realized something.
1. No matter how long I waited I was never going to be “ready” to go through all of those things.
2. I feel 100% better now that it is done and I won’t have to walk by that space in dread.
3. Confessing your shit through writing is easier than speaking the truth.
4. I should have just been honest about why I didn’t want to finish the taxes in the first place.
5. Crying doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human.
6. Connecting my family to me through my emotions is hard but will be worth it.
7. I am stronger than I think.
8. Taxes fucking suck.