Divorce, Humanity

Letter to that Guy- more online dating fiascos, by me.

Dear Guy,

I have to tell you how sorry I am.  My disappointment is not actually in YOU but in me. Its that classic, its not you but me bit that totally leaves everyone unsatisfied, no matter how true.

All we did was text, WE NEVER EVEN MET… so there are no children to care for, no body parts to have checked, no heart to re-invigorate…. nothing. nothing.  but what i did was something which is both old and well-known to me, and new and sparkling in its dysfunction.

i made you the answer to questions i used to have. desires i used to have.

you said, ‘i like to read’, i heard…

i’m the smart guy you’ve been waiting for… we can talk about books and i can teach you things you didn’t even know you wanted to learn… let’s hold hands!

you said, ‘my children are grown’… i heard…

we can meet anytime, anywhere, he has an EMPTY house… WE ARE FREE…. SEX! ALL THE TIME!!

you said, ‘i’m worried about you’… i heard…

( i heard it right, but my reaction went like this…)  OH MY GOD, this is what it feels like to have somebody care about me? to be watched out for? i’m going to cry.  i should ask him to marry me… i mean, arranged marriages work sometimes, right? why not? he wouldn’t be too freaked out, right? he must feel what i am feeling….

”””””’

sigh.

deciding to straddle the line between wanting a real thing and being ready for a real thing has made an interesting shift occur in me. this kind of mental gymnastics in which i singlehandedly create the makebelieve-come-true is something i did right before my very first date after the marriage ended .

i remember it so clearly. it took me a year and a half to be interested in dating. and my birthday approached and i went ahead and joined the online world and got a date. we texted ahead of time,  and i did the same thing i did this week… i made him into the ‘one’.

really? the first date in a year and a half is THE ONE? hmmm. what could be wrong about that?

i don’t even believe in the ONE.

so, upon seeing him, even in profile, still in car,  i realized what i had done, what i had created.  and never did it again.

and so the fact that i have suddenly succumbed to it, again? so curious.

what is this?

I’m 4 years separated. have had my first date, kiss, sex, whathaveyous… have learned a whole lot, have remembered more.  why, suddenly, am i back to square one ?

forgetting everything that i’ve learned, the power that i’ve reclaimed? would i really want to date and find myself an empty husk again? without the solidity and groundedness that i have now?

i suppose the fact that i’m seeing all this and adding ‘no text’ to my daily list shows a bit of something has dislodged… i don’t want to give into what seems to be a natural skill set for me, the creative imagination overspill.

i don’t know who, or what is coming… but i’m pretty sure that when it does, i’ll meet it face to face and not in my imagination. so i can just ask my monkey brain to step aside for awhile, go eat a banana for chrissakes.

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This picture? Mostly because of the spiral, the loop loop loop of my brain these days… and the variations of grey. 

 

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Humanity

Courageous

I told someone yesterday that I was courageous.  Well, wrote to them. wrote. But still.  I am.

What does it mean to you?  That you might be courageous too?

What do I mean when I say it about myself?  I mean that I am still here. I am still looking around starry eyed… I am still having moments when I realize I am totally in love with my children. (also, the opposite, but still.)…I am currently willing to try a little ‘feeling’ with dating… (thats the most tepid shout of joy ever, but still… its there!!)

I run outside to see satellites in the sky.  I stare out the window at the blue blue sky and just gaze.

I am choosing. I am laughing. I am striding.

I am .

oh man, I am.

 

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Humanity

Holiday, handwriting…

Today one of my jobs is paying me to do all the company holiday cards.  they are red and green and lovely, but with lots of gold and seasonally Northern Hemisphere holiday animals, think otters, polar bears, orca, swan.  they are really lovely, really. and i’m getting my groove on in penmanship. all i’m doing is addressing and signing, really, and its still so lovely.  my kids haven’t been taught cursive writing in school and its a sadness for me, though they are learning signatures from their dad and I , they’ll never know the great satisfaction of a loop. One of the names I just had to write was Mazzella. Now, thats a name to bring fantastic satisfaction to a hand-writer.  OOh, man, double z’s and double l’s?

1211181035i love the back and forth, the curve and return of an ‘c’, the curve and return… ah, metaphors, you never fail me.

sigh.

we have heat today, all the kids are in school, at least, at this moment.  I’m finally able to look at some of the work I should have been doing during plumbing issues and pinkeye. there’s a healthy amount.

and in the background, i am trying to figure out larger meanings… i look chill but the number of health/stress connections is sad… and… the number of large ticket items that i’ve bumped into around my car and the house and such are pretty substantial.  what does it mean? what do I THINK it means? Am I believing I need to sell this house? that THAT is the practical step forward? And then I look around and fall in love again… Am I grounding down to settle in for a winter with a house that is all fixed up and safe for me and my kids?  AM i learning that money is just something I need to stop thinking about, because things are managed somehow?  (i live in a fairly frugal way, most of the time, so thats my baseline) but with family and a single credit card and alimony and child support and a wee bit of job money, i have swung this season of giant expense, and christmas is not even here yet, but i have decided already that whatever i have at this point right now, is what will be.  thats it. no more.

thats cool, thats right. the kids have more than enough. no one will be crying on christmas. and if they do, that is not a problem of mine.

and what about love? Am i finding that I am ready to begin looking for something more than sex? Don’t fucking tell anybody, but its a glimmer right now. just a fleck of light really.

I was just glancingly invited to my kids birthday party last weekend.  i had asked, but gotten no response.  my unbelievably crafty birthday boy begged me by phone to come, in front of his dad.  his dad was essentially forced into a ‘if you love me, mom has to come’ situation.   I was able to swoop into the place, see the set up, get the big hugs and the laughs and swoop out all with my emotions completely intact.

seriously, it was no big thing.

i can’t even believe it was me that typed that.  So much has changed with time. SO much.

swoop. and loop.

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arms raised to the magnificence.

Humanity

Wild-eyed.

SO, currently sitting by the woodstove in my beautiful home. Envy me.  Really. Spend your time wishing you had a woodstove, and a beautiful home. I can show you all sorts of pictures on instagram of the beauty in the nooks and crannys and the sparkle lights I love so much.  I can. You should. You could. 1207181853

and then.

when i am sitting by my woodstove, in the glow of flames, i am tending a mysteriously sick child.  and i am tending her as she lies on the floor at my feet, because she is six and needs to be kept warm. and she needs to be kept warm here, at my feet, because the rest of the house is without heat.

thanks reality. thanks a whole bunch.

the plumber couldn’t find the part, so we’re on day two of no boiler and the boys went to school… albeit late because sleeping on the floor in the kitchen really sucked, so we needed more of it and we missed the bus.

the youngest went to my mom’s, where she had her own queensized bed and heat, and I realize i’ve somehow gotten my priorities out of whack.

mom kept the stove topped up all night so was a nightmare of a logistician this morning.  she also spent her time in the night walking around checking on the space heaters, because those are death traps.

this is her own problem, this ‘vigilance’ thing.  she is working on it.  ( oh my god, i slipped into third personing without even being aware. holy mo.)

rargh. now the babe is home.  we had reached the school parking lot when she started crying and moaning about her belly and i just do not have any juice left. and i refuse to do something i am going to regret.  (which is weighted, i know)

so home we are, and she fell right to sleep, which probably means she’s legit sick.  or just scared by the whole night away experience.  i don’t know. the boys stayed here and we crashed together, and ache together now.

So i’m here, in my lovely reality. and honest to god, thats where the real beauty is.

finding it in the mess. finding beauty in the money fears… watching the light come through the plastic-covered windows, seeing the disco ball spin from  a draft, realizing how little the littlest still is…

the world is fucking amazing. and my dirty dishes in the sink and the fucking chaos of my campkitchen right now? its the nirvana that i get. its what i get.

and i’m taking it.

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Uncategorized

Skipping it.

so, double pink eye . on me, tha mother.

this sucks it.

but i got  some new curtains and i love them.

they are pink velvet .  and they have tassels. because. target.

1206181413my mom is not coming over to take the littlest to dance bc of the contagiousness. so we are going to be skipping it. which will make this littlest SOOOOO  happy and will make me only have one trip out for a child, which makes me SOOOO happy.

the days of darkness have arrived.

any more metaphors out there for me?

my vision is literally clouded.

the ceiling has fallen.

the beaten down yeast has risen again, and been cooked.

what we most fear (being duped) happens to us again and again

the pipes have burst.

the windows to the soul are full of gunk. crud.

pink the color of dawn. pink the color of contagion.

dudes.