yeah, i am in some sort of dark tube of hellacious premenstrual bollywood currently.
i’m dreading the days i will miss the kids before christmas, when they are at their dad’s. i already want to cry about it. probably will. ( i get them back christmas eve, but there is no telling me, in current state.) last year i stayed in pajamas and drank too much wine and wrapped things and cried. some people call that heaven, i know.
it’ll pass. i know. yes. and i still have been wondering if i should revamp my consideration of my anti-depressants. i’ve stopped taking them, roughly 8 months ago. (plenty of rollercoasters, that i’ve survived just fine…)
premenstrual rollercoaster, you all are my witnesses. hand to god.
its like this: self-loathe. rationalize. hit the wall of regular life. self-loathe. bump in the road grows insurmountable. quit. lie down. do laundry. self-loathe, rationalize. and so forth.
and it might all subside in the next 24 hours. if i’m lucky. might have to wait 36, or 48 more. i’m a loser like that. see?
(don’t ever underestimate the power of a hormonal swing, my friends. ever.) (((if i ever had a need for a picture of swing, now would be the time. now.)))
I’m trying to work it out. this whole fear/denial of the temporary. I feel, so much, the depth of winter, and i’m not even sure that its here, but this ending, this feeling of ending, is pervasive.
i’m scared about the climate. how do i accomodate that in my system? Where does it fit? When I don’t have a leadership that even acknowledges it?
I had a substitute teacher training session yesterday in case i want to do that after winter break and they had to do the requisite ‘armed intruder’ training. This is not a drill. What is wrong, deeply wrong with our country?
I go look at the news on the right. There is so much certainty. I go look at the news on the left. There is so much certainty. I COMPLETELY blame the lack of truthtelling. Truth WITHOUT interpretation, and without opinion. It seems conspiracy is the only thing we believe in now. The truth ?
No one believes in it anymore. It seems.
so maybe my depressive ‘everything is temporary’ stems from the national crisis of integrity. Our priorities are intensely out-of-whack. Its not just me, its all of us.
Those on the left with their moral superiority complex, and their inflexibility. (i mean, sometimes the fucking guy is just making jokes, for chrissakes. it is appropriate? no. but damn, its a joke!)
Those on the right with their moral superiority complex, and their inflexibility. ( lets be clear; some of what he does and says is disgusting. flat out gross and i wouldn’t want anyone like him to ever date my kid. he is not good.)
I’m so tired of waiting for January.
**don’t even get me started on the problems I have with bargain shopping. talk about crisis.
(see. That’s a leavening statement, comic relief, if you will. THAT is what that is.)
I got to read an article about how the Law of Attraction and the “Tell the Universe what you want and it will arrive” crowd are full of shit. and several puzzle pieces plonked down where they were supposed to be a long time ago.
my kid had a great birthday.
my teenager went to sleep with a headache around 7 last night, and that meant i could put everyone else to bed early with almost no fuss and so i was asleep at 9:10 last night. these are happy things.
I’ve been in crowds of like-minded ladies for a long time.. slightly off-center, more spirit-focused, women who ‘do work’ on themselves. many of them believe that you can ‘manifest’ your desires by speaking them out loud to the Universe. speaking, praying, burning, all of that. I am not saying they are wrong.
But, for me, my reaction to this has always been somewhat less than automatic. I’ve been ‘trying’ for it, and failing. I do believe in prayer, thought, intention, being focused… but i think it changes me, not the Universe. and I think and hope that the Universe has bigger fish to fry than me, right now. It definitely goes back to some of my feelings and beliefs in humility. I’ve written about it before and like what i wrote, being humble not being tied to low self-esteem, but to HIGH FALUTIN LIFEWORSHIP AND GRATITUDE.
and oh my god, the people who have commandeered ‘LIFE’ and made it all about abortion? they suck. SUCK.
its the same with the people who have made the American Flag into something threatening. God damn them.
This whole bubble needs a post of its own. It will arrive eventually.
The kid had a great birthday. her dad doesn’t come because his gf is not invited. he is, every year, even at the beginning. she’s now 7 and he has not been to a bday party in 3 years. I donno, maybe it doesn’t really matter.
the kid had a great birthday! 7. what a doozy. girls are just batty. I love a crew of them. I can see the beginnings of the social stuff though, so there is a weakening of the bubble wall, and it will pop for a while. We are meant to do without the bubbles. But the shift from one to the other can be fairly tumultuous. the burst bubbles can be a little shocking when its your first time.
I’m 45. My oldest is 14, then 11 almost 12, and 7. I freely admit that I have never figured out bedtime. While I am no longer full of dread at the thought of it, I am not full of positive energy either. I have given up. I have ceded to the powers that be, and i just throw them all upstairs at the same time and shut my light off. essentially, this is true, though i try sometimes to read a book or tell a story. The dream of them heading off in peace and kid-centered action is utterly and totally burst.
Going to bed before 10 is my goal, and most days i get the littlest down by 9. I think this is a ridiculous time for a 7 year old, I really do. But I surrender. I have utterly surrendered. Does this sound like a banner john bender moment? no? yeah. i didn’t think so. No Mom Award for me. Just me. Going RAAAAH in the kitchen at six in the morning as I type. Because you know? I’m okay with falling into bed with children. I might even be better than okay with it.
I am signing off now, as said teenager will be clomping down the stairs shortly.
*oh, speaking of burst bubbles. My almost 12 declared himself a vegetarian at dinner last night. there goes my ability to feed him. he ate a plate of roasted vegetables that he hated and ate some fish crackers for dessert. someone help.
I’m retreating. i can tell i’m in retreat because i’m feeling unattached to my online community, and unsearched for… this petulance is not something i like in myself, and so i’m just going to sit on the sofa, do my thing and wait for january.
its November, which is historically fairly hard for me, post-divorce. so much navigation of the past, with two kid birthdays which are, still, not shared. and yes, i find this unbelievable, and it hurts my hippie soul that i can’t yet welcome ex and his girlfriend into my home, but i can’t. i think one or the other, would be fine. but together? no. i envision myself following them around, telling the ‘true story’ behind his stories to her, the rotten undercurrent that was there, the spot where he sat when he …
my kids tend to talk a lot more about their dad because of all the negotiations and the tids and bits i hear cause me a fair amount of consternation and i have to re-learn how to separate myself from that experience. every year. so far.
believe it or not, thats a lot of progress. i hate that i am being asked to do this every November, frankly, but so it goes. a lot of people wouldn’t expect this of their ex, but here is where i am.
it is also an anniversary of my dad’s death, and his favorite season, and so much memory and thanksgiving and Thanksgiving. I took the kids and LM to the beach this Veteran’s Day, to throw rocks, or skip them..to search for seaglass, in memory of my Dad. Its all just so sad, sometimes, this evidence of a bumpy life. I tell my kids all the time that life is just bumpy. If you’re in a smooth spot, there is a bump ahead and a bump behind. and that it keeps on rolling anywhere you are on it.
November is a pretty fucking big bump for me, and its just about halfway done. and there is a birthday party/celebration already over with and i get a reprieve for two weeks before the next. i certainly wasn’t planning well during the conception. shit.
so. 4FucksakeNovember meant i wrote for 4 days straight. thats all.