Humanity

I’m just sitting here.

I’ve been sleeping poorly, now, two nights in a row, unable to regulate my temperature.  So, I’m hot, I’m cold, I’m sweating and I have a headache when I wake.  This is not ideal. (she laughs hysterically)

Yesterday I called in the LM and he arrived, and I rallied.  Stood up, took a bath, got it together. Because having someone around is supposed to be a support. Who knew? I mean, really, just having him here making chitchat with the littlest while she does Barbie whoknowswhat?  Made me feel more in-control, less likely to snap in my tiredness and just made the whole thing SO MUCH GODDAMNED BETTER.

Maybe its only the times I’ve been on my own, even when married, that make me see the incredible value in presence.  I think it is. the difference that having another adult in the house can make…

I’ve made an appointment for therapy because i think i’m actually being hit by a bunch of things at once… an anniversary with LM, which freaks me right the hell out. a repetitious relationship with an ex, which saddens me every time. one kid who thinks i’m going back to the ex, eventually, still, which makes me want to vomit with guilt for all that he does not know.

and so i’m doing whirligigs here, internally.  LM is just amazing and even when I say things that potentially might undo him, he is listening and staying and holding on to me. Its astonishing, frankly.

and so, i need therapy again.

DID I MENTION IT IS SCHOOL VACATION WEEK AND WE ARE ALL HOME TOGETHER?!

except my 14 year old, who has been on two skiing trips because you know. 14. sigh. beauty and stretch.

i do love you. hope you are well.

-uwmfVacation Sickday Unwifedmotherexpletive

  • OH, and my cold or whatever this is is affecting MY HEARING, which means everything is muffled and I have to put my face into someone elses to hear. which makes mothering spectacular.
  • OH, and the fastest way to get relief is to call my ex, which gives me great anxiety.
  • OH, and school vacation. Did I say that?
  • OH, and i’m working on a childrens book and I love it, and I am too invested in imaginary illustrations already… sigh. know any agents? (hysterical laughing)

 

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Humanity

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m just…

the apology. I’m constantly apologizing. in my head, to my children, to men.  It has begun to drive me mad. I think, know, that it is the people-pleasing portion of my psyche run amok.

I can get mad, or irritated, and express that feeling without needing to then go back and dry-erase that mother fucker out of existence. right?

RIGHT?

Legit apologies are necessary things, of course.  But that is 1000 times not what I’m talking about.

I was pissed the ex took two hours to pack the car so my kid almost missed his dinner with me on the ‘last night’ before the big ski trip. And I acted pissed.

Spent the next 45 minutes thinking of how I should apologize.  Then, realized I didn’t have to, because showing pissed-ness is not really that terrible. I didn’t call him names, or swear. I just pointed out the inconsideration and was annoyed.  So, I didn’t apologize, and the world didn’t even collapse.

There is a great call for civility in the world, and a greater one for kindness. Actual kindness.

But this, in me, is the opposite of those things.  Its not real, its not actual sorrow for my behavior or the hurt it may have caused.  It is the desire for someone else to stop being angry at me.  This reality?  It flattens me somehow, makes me waste my time and mental space on trying to ‘fix’ something that is not broken. A perversion of Authenticity? I am a nice person, a kind one even, and I try not to be otherwise. However, my humble humanity has been proven time and time and TIME again.

So, get on it. I’m going to make it my goal for this month, this month of African American history and commercial love products, to stop apologizing.

so f* off.

heh.

-uwmf

Sugar pile sorry Unwifedmotherexpletive

 

 

Humanity

Reading and Avoidance

I’m chugging through the books.  Because, really, I love to read… Just finished ‘The Hazel Wood’which is YA Fantasy by Melissa Albert.  I dug it.  Well-written, creepy, and darkly fairytale-d. And it stands alone, which I appreciate in a curmudgeonly way.  I love series, but man, sometimes I just want a completed story, in one package.

Of course, when I go to link it for you, it is listed as ‘book one’.  so there is that sigh-inducing moment of my day.

The other cringe of today:  my realization that the book that i keep finding, that hovers in each of the rooms I tidy daily, moving (by my hand) from desk, to bedside, to floor, to fireside… is one that I have already read.

sigh.

Little Bee, by Chris Cleave.  Let’s dodge the appropriate questions of a white guy writing about an African woman, ok? It’s a for-real dodge.

The beginning, the first sequence is just brilliant.  How much a life can be like a British pound coin.

Most days I wish I was a British pound coin instead of an African girl. Everyone would be pleased to see me coming. 

It is brilliant.

Beyond that, I can tell you that I have forgotten much of the detail. I had evidently blocked the title from my memory, but the story has been with me for many years. And I have been permanently scarred by the story line… the violence, the shock, escape, return, the unrelenting feeling of inevitability that I felt when reading. If you are better at handling life than I am, this is a story to read. Think of the power in words that have carried me this many years… its time I let it move out of my house, to stop tidying it from place to place.  

And it brings me back to what I liked about The Hazel Wood.  Its all about story. Making our own, being trapped in, breaking out of… story. The power of it. How much it can follow you.

As I grapple with my own recurring story, and the need to release/escape from the poison of repetition, I’m feeling my own dark fairytale winding down, and out. and So there, my friends.

A post on books. More will eventually arrive, because I’m done with avoiding things today.

Pip! (still not english, or Mr. Toad, or 84…)

-uwmfLittle Bee- Cleave- UnwifedMotherExpletiveThe Hazel Wood- Albert- Unwifedmotherexpletive

Humanity

#hashtag (SO.MUCH.RANDOMNESS.)

Hmm. My cousin named her dog #hashtag.  She’s in marketing, and lovely, so she is allowed, and encouraged to do so.

🙂

I’m doing some different things this week, in anticipation of yet another long break from the kids as they go skiing with their dad.  i’m, yes, glad for them. and then. but, whatever.  #sparsebutcomplex

#economicchoices #financialstability #skiadventures #iammoreofalodgebunny anyhow.  I’m too low-class for skiing anyways. I get all whacked out by the money involved in going straight down a slippery hill.  but #realdeal?  Its the jealousy that I can’t do the big trips. But seriously, I AM getting over it.

We will go to the Cape this year, like we’ve done the past few years. And two or three nights will feel like a million dollars. it really will.  #sistersaredoingitforthemselves #nocreditcards!

#andtodayiwrote #forme #notwork .  #wewillseewhatcomesofthis … I’ve got a lovely children’s story in the works. I’d love to see it with illustrations some day. sigh. I’m such an old-school person, so much beauty and peace in a slower style.

Hazelwood photo Unwifedmotherexpletive
Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

I make lists daily, to achieve any thing at all. everyday i have to put ‘chickens’ on the list or i leave those ladies right where they are which is not at all kind.

and lately, i’ve had to put READ .  because really, this work for yourself #hustle, plus the #stupidityofthephone has KILLED MY READING HABIT.  i mean, SHOCKINGLY. so now, i’m getting back into my own body and it is good.

and i’ve gone to the gym.  (godawful boring, but still. 80s music. so, okay.)

 

LOVE YOU. SORRY FOR THE RANDOM. #SORRYNOTSORRY

awww, love…

uwmf

 

 

Humanity

TMI. (you were warned. . .)

so yesterday, #doonesmallthing is true, real and so valid. so. and then, i have a 7-year-old who was not able to hold water in her belly, i mean, like foaming bile was coming up. and thats all. it was terrible to watch, and she was crying for much of it. 24 hours.  before bed, i asked for a gatorade to be delivered by her father, as he was bringing the boys home from their weeknight together.

so there. we bend. we flake, like beautiful pastry. and i’m full-on happy to say the electrolytes, salt and sugar of the chemicals of that drink stayed in the longest of all the things.  while it did, technically, return to me, i think it helped set her up for a night’s sleep.

so there. we bend, we flake, and we dominate!

today, on her recovery day, there is a second child home.

i’m just saying.

TMI Sick day Unwifedmotherexpletive