Divorce, Humanity

the middle.

the kids are flying off to Florida tomorrow for a long weekend and a swim with some manatees.

the ex is dating, has broken up with the woman he was with immediately after leaving (foggy dates there, intentional) and it’s coming back around on me.

I don’t care. I do care. ego is involved. things are not equal. they won’t be. my kids are very lucky.

and I’m going to miss the kids a lot. its only one night more than regular that they’ll be gone from me, but the fact that they’ll be having all these first-time experiences without me is a little bit peaky. and airplanes.

and i’m having stress dreams about disrespect and the way i felt when i was married and the futile feeling that i had about my life all the time.

and i’m calling my friends and they are holding my hands, and my LM is being lovelier.

and man, there is this gift in all this… that i’m not there anymore, that he isn’t in my life anymore, that i can yell and be mad and not be constantly gaslit about my own worth and sanity.

that i forget. and remember. and yell in the empty kitchen, to myself,  ‘he is not in my life ANYMORE’. and the yelling feels right, and loosens my shoulders.

here i am.

sometimes i am mad. catch me at 9:30 at night when not one.single.kid. is making any progress towards sleep and i am a fucking harpy of doom.  totally.

and i don’t have to hear anymore about what an ‘angry person’ i am.  because i am so much more than a person who gets angry sometimes. and really, i always was.

i’m not there anymore. and the fairytale fell apart and the crying in the wedding dress is done. (i’m sure i’ll have some more moments, but.)

and i’ve got amazing kids with me all the time, and i’m allright man.  right here in the middle of all this, i’m still allright.

Breakfast Table Mess UnwifedMotherExpletive

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Humanity

The enormity…

the structure of things is simple. an outline, a scaffold of right angles and sturdy support. the veinous structure of the map.

and then there are the details.

the rhythm of the heart. the out-branching, the outlier, thinner and thinner and prone to dissolution. age and wear. the curve of a doorway arch. the dirt road still in use. the ‘what’s for dinner’ call at the bus stop at 8 am…

in my brain, something snagged. A detail stuck out and hooked all the scaffolding for miles in a precarious leaning-towards a vast nothing.

I have believed, for months, that I needed a w2 from my last ‘real’ job, and today I started acting on finding it. Because an answer did not immediately fly my way, my body got anxious.  as in, my heart is still tight now, hours later, my skin was flushed hot and prickly and i was buried in shame. and this, all this, in a series of maybe 6 text/message/email exchanges. six.  (and I’m wrong. I don’t need that w2.)

simple. not simple.

i want to joke about death and taxes. i really do.

i can’t entirely figure it out.  the shame? dear god. Shame? COME ON. shame is for cain and abel. for trump, if in fact he had a heart or soul… but me? shame?

ugh. brene brown, come and get me.

Cluttered countertop UnwifedMotherExpletive

Something about being a good girl, I am sure. Following the rules. Having clear countertops. Failing. Failing at taxes, being ignorant of what you need to get by in the world. Not knowing the loopholes, not knowing the structures to climb. Not knowing what you do not know.

the enormity of all that I do not know.

biggie, out.

Humanity

Dig, deeper.

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.)

Feet in a Waiting Room. Unwifedmotherexpletive

Humanity

Foxy, foxy.

Dia de la Muerta figures UnwifedMotherExpletive

There’s been a fox in my yard lately, sniffing around my chicken ladies.  They are safe, particularly at night, if, in fact, they are in their coop. But. and there is a large BUT, they don’t know enough to stay there. And I’m torn. Do I tell them? Do I cage them? Am I responsible for derailing their one wild life?

Its hard out there, for sure. Being solo in the wilderness is not a long story. Predators are, in fact, designed to defeat your precious freedom.

(I’m not an idiot. I’ve made a pen for my ladies, as they are the meagre survivors of a brutal season of bird, fox, automobile that affected their ability to safely free range. I’ve never seen anything like it. I buried a lot of chicken hit in the road. WTF. )

(and, far far too many jokes.)

but as i consider my life as a grown woman, and what freedom i have to choose… the gross amount of privilege i enjoy, the way in which i am forever tied to my family of brood, i am highly aware of the foxes out there.

Some of it is as simple as feeling shame for living on alimony and child support.  Its an entirely social construct, a pen, if you will, and i can live in it while throwing myself against the walls, or not.

some of it is as complicated as a new man in my life. LM still. but how much do i rely, how much do i allow, how much of merging is a loss? i’m going slow, slow, but these are things and thoughts that are real real.

sigh.  Fox medicine says that

If Fox has chosen to share its medicine with you, it is a sign that you are to become like the wind, which is unseen yet is about to weave into and through any location or situation. You would be wise to observe the acts of others rather than their words at this time. Use your cunning nature in a positive way; keep silent about who and what and why you are observing.

If i’m to be like the wind, cunning and clever, (and silence is, frankly, already out the door… ) i’m just going to keep on keeping on, watching and waiting and letting it ride.

Humanity

Soup is on.

Today i did a writing prompt about the things I tend, what i turn towards, how I tend. I’m sharing it here, because I like the change of pace, and the soup is really smelling up the place now, as well as the bacon that I had to add… ah, bacon. you make my heart sing.

I have added to and edited here, though this news will break the hearts of those who forgive me my ways. (capitalization is just not a thing, for instance.)

  1. Today was the day of the oil change. The making-sure the car makes it through the winter, though i suppose there is no guarantee against calamity, or trees. 
  2. I’m in love with the word TEND. I took a class called that, just for its name… only to run out of money in the end… but i lose a bit of my bonechill every time i see her writings. Women are pretty fucking great. of course it is a woman. Tend? c’mon. 
  3. I’m making a soup today as well, which is not a completely normal happening, but it will be potato when it is done with its time in the crock. I’ve been working at a farm stand and am thrilled to say that my reason, ‘to be closer to food, to cook more real food’, has come to pass. (also, people. and payment) These potatoes are almost fully personified in my mind. They are giving me their pleasure, and sustenance and i am chopping them to chunks and bits. (look away.) I also peeled their skin off. 
  4. The things i turn toward are colored amorphous blobs. Memories, smells… sounds or tactilities, these are the scenes i go towards. I’m so fully centered in my body, but there is all this space around the molten core of me, and i seem to want to fill it with yarn and sweaters knit by people who can, food smells, tacos… you see. It is escaping my typing fingers, what it is i tend towards, how it is i move into and out of the world outside my quiet body. I don’t even know how i have sex, out there, but i do… every once in a while i get a glimpse of a spark shooting off into the darkness, my fling towards connection. 
  5. i feel so insular, my molten core bringing all the self-sufficiency. (hello, they say no man is an island. but what of woman? )
  6. I tend to warmth, there are hats, there are blankets and there are never NOT those things. We have wood for the stove, we have pasta for the storms. It is always tended to. Always. 
  7. I’m not able to, or rather, it taxes me too dearly to slow down my writing brain. It must flow as it does. I tend to fly. 
  8. More colors to tend to in this dying light of Fall. the book i haven’t read, that i probably need to read, maybe. It is green-ly bound, and yellow at the heart. I think my chakras are interested by this.Books Yellow and Green UNwifedmotherexpletive
  9. I tend to personify. 
  10. I tend to leave space, for all the meaning and the worth that come from another. The shared experience that really isn’t. And is, too. 
  11. A season of tending outdoors has ended, and the wrapping up of it into storage, decay, decomposition, is a slow decay in an of itself. I start off strong. Always curious to see what is left to survive the elements, or not. That one hulahoop left by the shed. You see.