I got this Disney Cruise Line promo in the mail today. It made me cry. Not because the idea of a magical getaway makes me sad – quite the contrary. It’s because I was transferring emotions from my life lately into this beautiful, picturesque Disney propaganda.
It seems like yesterday when I held my daughter up to see her favorite Disney characters in the parade on Main Street. It seems like last week when she carried her stuffed Simba in a baby blanket throughout the parks, or the day she was dressed as Princess Jasmine from head to toe.
But this week was quite the contrast. Two nights ago, I was awakened at 2:00 a.m. when she burst through my front door, makeup and tears streaming down her face. She was shaking like a leaf when she told me about a strange girl who was obviously strung out on drugs, begging for help at her front door, following her into her house as my daughter tried to wake her roommate for help. “Mom, I didn’t know what to do! My phone was in the other room, she was following me through the house, and my roommate was drunk and wouldn’t wake up!” To make a long story short, she was very traumatized by the event, and has refused to go back to her house since, so she has been staying with me again.
I’m apparently not handling this stage of life very well, as I wiped away real tears tonight looking at this Disney promo. I want life to stop, or at least slow down. I want to see my daughter’s face light up with that precocious smile she had before she ate the proverbial apple and had her eyes opened to the pain and evil in life.
I want to stop being sick. I’m in my third month of virus after virus, and my immune system is shot. I want to love my job again – but burnout has hit me full force. I want to be with the people I love, and not miss them night after night.
And I really want to go on a Disney cruise.