Humanity

My 7-year-old plays Fortnite now.

and holy shit guys.

what’re you up to now that the world has shut down?

in truth, so far, about once a week I have a complete sobbing meltdown. the fear, the anxiety, the worry for the kids, for LM, for my mom and for everysingleperson.

LM is here, as he has severely compromised lungs and my place is best for not being full of germshare.

my kids dad doesn’t believe in the benefits of social isolation, so gave them to friends for a sleepover a little over a week ago.  he does not have much respect for my being an informed adult and seems to think i am a hysteric who gets her news from gossip.

so i am doing all that i can when i can and cursing his soul.  i hope he feels it. and yes, i am a little kidding, and some of me is not kidding at all.

and then there is hope. because, as hard as it is for me to believe, beneath all the layers of fear, anxiety, cynicism, despair, niggling worries, fear of schooling my children and deep betrayal lies a golden molten core of beauty and brilliant LIGHT that, evidently, cannot be dimmed.

and so she SHINES.

sometimes. when the night is dark and dreary, she flashes.  and i’m seeking her out, and holding hands, and

SEEKING HER OUT.

and i think it is saving me, and so there is that.

Carrots Unwifedmotherexpletive

and i’m hoping to re-enter this world here more often. but lets not hold our breaths.

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Divorce, Humanity

write as defiance. DEFIANCE.

so, the ex contacts me to tell me he just read the blog.  and thinks its about him.  I’ve told him enough times not to read it. that nothing, even if he is in it, is about him.  all me, all the time.  And everytime he tells me he has read it, I feel like I need to go stand in the darkest corner of the house and never write again. and sometimes I have stopped, for ages.

so today, as a mark of noticing the dropped shoulders that I got from yelling alone in my kitchen?

I write. As an act of defiance, i write, however small a piece… because he got enough out of me already, and he can’t have anything else.

and i’m not being ‘too dramatic’, or ‘angry’, i’m just showing you how I save myself these days.

the sun is bright. and i’m still allright.

Author's face UnwifedMother Expletive

 

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

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