Humanity

the world is scary. its not the poor people.

i’m not scared of the poor and desparate people of the world. i’m not.

the indifferent wealthy? oh yeah, those people are terrifying.

its not the clueless, befuddled middle class, or the angry American lower class, or the startled and confused college-educated women who voted for Trump… its those pesky people that I’ve only seen from afar.

the people who could buy and sell me. and know it. kind of, because it would sort of be ‘beneath them’ to deal with a little person like me.

its not the poor people who are trying to get into this country to make a better life, who travel hundreds and maybe thousands of miles with their children to pick strawberries for 10 hours a day.

its the guy at the top, willing to close factories because the profit goes from 10 billion to 8 billion. that particular guy happens to be a woman. she made 22 million, personally, that year.

just saying. lets put the fear where it belongs. lets be scared and be angry and direct it all in the right direction. there’s no way I can make this about me, and fool myself that ‘as long as I’m allright, it can keep going on this way…’ because that day has passed.

don’t you think?

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Humanity

what’d you do today, freelancer?

I don’t have any work to do today. I mean, I’ve got two jobs that are on hold, or i’m awaiting a response to the last message, etc. So I really have nothing to do.  I’ve moved the sofa. I’ve got a wing chair in the middle of the kitchen now. I’ve measured something. I’ve danced. I took a bath. I’m clean and I watched a zombie show. I am keeping the chickens locked up today because there is a fox, and he has been fed twice in the past two days and hella, stop.

This:

Last night I got a text message from a mom whose kid is/was a friend of my teenager.  sometime in august some shit went down and she just heard about it now and was texting me to essentially find out about it, complain and judge me and my job as a parent.

let me be clear: my kid was part of something mean and unkind to her kid. my kid was mean and unkind.

full stop.

but I don’t really take kindly to the notion that I then get a lecture on parenting from another parent. As if my 14 year old kid is not responsible for his decisions.  Because I was upset at the text series, I looked again through his phone, talked with him about the incident yet again and when I told him that the boy’s feelings had been significantly hurt, he had remorse, again, as he should have.

AND YET, it is still not my responsibility to control his first actions.  I’ve given him a model, and earlier on, explicit directions on how to treat people.  And he made a mistake.

I do feel sorry for it, and sorry for her kid, because it sucks to be in high school sometimes. it really does. and he got hit with flung shit (not literally).

But the patronizing, and the moralizing, and the judgement that I got?  I fling that shit back and out. No.

BUT because I avoid conflict, even within myself, the anger splurted out at my kids last night.

(yelling)
“SHUT UP. I LOVE YOU BUT PLEASE SHUT UP.”

lots of fun at bedtime. guilt. anger. guilt. anger.

so I leave you with this:

a new pink sofa. free, by the side of the road, with a twin. small enough to haul around the house on a freelancing kind of day.

0916191208

Humanity

dearth, of your interest, yes, and mine.

its raining. its the second week of school. i’m getting my feet beneath me. I have a kid home sick.  (fist shake)  I have still managed to do all things I needed to do first thing, which included work and reply and I even tried to track down that email that has slipped through the cracks to no avail.  John T? I’ve lost it, apologies!  I’m trying to find out how it could have happened, but no. its not happening. technology and I are seriously on the outs.

I’ve had my burst of sending the hard emails and now there is a dearth of energy, of willingness to engage in the action. its the rain, I know. because it puts a ‘damper’ on my ability to putter outside to complete list items, and I resent it. and I resent my own inability to ‘fight the good fight’ and ‘get out there and get the job done’… blagh. . . (in New England, its sort of like admitting you are the anti-Christ, to be lazy. it is sacrilegious…)

But here I am, I’ve done everything on my list that can be done in-house and its only 9:24.  I might as well jump.

heh.

-uwmfSurrender UnwifedMotherExpletive

Humanity

Re-arriving

I’m slowly coming back into the world.  I’m working each day and making absurd money in small bits of time. Its not enough bits yet, but this morning I made $100 in twenty minutes. So that math? You dig? shoot. And i’m not even a hooker.

I’m coming back into my intellect, with a little removal from the hectic of childcare and whatnots.  I’m listening to a workshop that a woman named Alison Armstrong gave, on Audible. Its the first time I’ve spent so much time listening to something. Her website is called UnderstandMen, which cracks me the hell up.   I have the fancy earphones which STRONGLY resemble earmuffs, so I walk around in my slippers on purpose so I can feel like some kind of Nordic Lodge Bunny. (that’s a thing, right?)

I’ve even felt my spirit stirring, as I tend my home in the tiniest of ways, here and there, attending to space in a seasonal transition.  Tending, without rush, with a feeling of satisfaction at tiny change upon tiny change. And there is the light here. And I have a new painting on the wall that Jessica Kinsella painted, and its astonishing. I’ll try and photo it when the light is right. Maybe I’ll get it in here.

Today is my sister’s birthday. It is a fantastic day to be alive, all the more so because of a day we all remember for something else.  It is a fantastic day to be alive.

 

Thank you, Shannon.

My heart is trying its damnedest to stir to full beat. My intellect and fear-based life experiences are getting in my way. But I’m trying to understand myself, and be gracious to myself, at least, more often than not. and, LM seems to be a very patient man. I’m trying so hard to allow myself to have faith in another person. Its way trickier than I thought it would be.

Jessica Kinsella painting, detail. Unwifedmotherexpletive
my photo does not do it justice. It glows. It is illuminated in color.

 

Humanity

school is in session.

whoo. school started four days ago. i’ve had a much harder time with it than expected. all the self-doubt and shifting identity landed at once with the introduction of so much time. I work, but barely scrape enough to make up for the change in alimony that happened a year ago.  The farmstand parttime has helped a bunch too. it is good, i guess, as i’m still able to afford stuff, and pay for the new health insurance payment that i’ve got. kids get state aid but none for me, as alimony counts as income.  money means house security and all that. and with the kids gone it all settles in and i’d be better off alone as i’m in this space of lack and fear about my own inability to earn enough money to be independent. well, it sure doesn’t help that i’m in a house too big for my britches and i’m deeply in love with it.

all that is really fucking boring for me too, believe that. like, hellaciously so.

I’ve got cold toes today, the first authentically chilly morning of the season. and its thrilling, and my heart hurts with all the things my inner critic is saying about my ability to take care of things.

and there is this:

all the sages say:  focus on what is. be present, mindful of reality vs expectation or judgement.

shit man. if i’m living minute to minute, how do i assess plans for the future? how do i make plans at all?

i’m a 9 enneagram. you know what that is? it means i’m predisposed to avoid conflict and sometimes i get so lost in all the possible perspectives on an issue that i don’t know what my own opinion, need or want is. that makes me sometimes unknowable, i think.

so, cold. unknowable.

welcome to it, biotches.

hee hee. – uwmf

Hot Peppers School is in Session UnwifedMotherexpletive