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.
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.
i’m sitting in my living room currently with three kids around me, all plugged into various screens, even the six year old. and i am typing, while watching Airplane. I had them all in it with me, for about six minutes.
There are 100 things i love about this movie.
and i’m sitting on the dog’s bed*, so he is lying next to me licking my foot until i scream and get the hell out of his space.
*dog’s bed being a completely original way of saying beanbag chair, intended for humans.
God Bless Kareem Abdul-Jabar. I mean, Roger Murdock.
and then, Ethel Merman.
I’m smitten with the casual cruelty and egalitarian roasting. no one is safe. and yet, it manages to not be aggressive. how does it do that? and, if i weren’t a white girl from the country, would i still think this? i mean, its certainly offensive. but is it?
part of what made me write today was a thought that flashed through my brain while watching Elaine dance to Staying Alive. ‘I wish i was taller’.
Ok now. So, I am 45 years old. My last growth spurt was a while ago. I don’t need to be anything other than I am. ever. right?
As part of the crackhead mood i”ve been in for the past week, I’ve lost all my ground. And, a lovely friend (@hannahmarcotti) said it today, in terms of my doubt, that doubt is really an inability to be present.
and its doubt that is making me lose my ground. doubt in my own instincts, not knowing the difference between fears based on baggage and fears based on intuition, just the wild uncertainty of everything.
I’m laughing out loud, all by myself because a spear just hit a map in the background. thank you very much.
I love the utter ridiculousness of it.
and i’m whacked. doubting myself like crazy pants, and knowing that intuition is a tough one for me, and i relate it to my belief systems in marriage. . . and i’ve got to figure out what i’m going to do with all my baggage, because i’d like to walk with a slightly lighter step.
and when one decides to look directly at a problem like this: what does it look like?
I’m going to start with some byron katie work. I’m familiar with this process as i’ve been through it with Chakra Carol in years past.
its a thought re-conditioning sort of thing. i’m taking the kids to the Cape on Monday and I’m going to force myself to get up early and write in the mornings, and i’m dealing with this shit like throwing bricks. obvious and hard.
i am pretty damn sure its just a step in the road, but fuck it.
i’m moving away a little from the shock and awe that caused this post, but it did, I had it.
my LM had a less than stellar response to a very old friend of mine who is related to my ex. I mean, his reaction was twofold, 1. A person who clearly loves me. 2. a very judgemental, class-oriented, conflicted criticizer.
now, these things are both true. but when you have loved someone for so long, you have a tendency to gloss over things, and put them on a pedestal of sorts.
there are so many questions;
*am I okay with this judgement because i’m usually on the winning side? ultimately, this one is a humdinger.
*I’ve always brushed off the criticisms, because of the longevity of the relationship and the humor that also always resides.
*how much do i let LM change my opinions? or am i just seeing the whole world in a new light? with a new mate who is not informed by decades of history?
*was it an incomplete love in the first place? that allowed me to do the glossing? can i absorb the new and complete version and still maintain the love and the pedestal?
how the hell do we love each other? we, complex, multiply-layered bodysacks of confusion? c’mon now… HOW?
I hate to start a post with i’m sorry but here it is. its summer, and i’m sorry.
A. i’m a sorry hot mess.
but I found an AC with LM for fifty dollars that is cooling off my entire house. and i’ve never had so much AC in my life, ever. i’ve been blowing a fuse daily and now the AC is blowing a fuse daily. i’m not sure what that means. but I should google it. right? i’m definitely willing to accept travelling into the basement as a daily exchange for cool air.
B. I can’t really handle no routine.
but i’m not willing to fight in the heat to keep one, so there is that. and outside forces like the kids having a father who lives in town and friends and such, keep activities still happening, some days. sometimes. its too hot, I just don’t care.
C. i’m a sorry, hot mess.
c1. LM is still the Loveliest Man. and that is that, but having someone who wants to be a partner and actively pursues partner-y things is giving me a lot of therapy issues. like, why did I never have this before? was married for 14 years. it makes me want to cry because I think I should go back and fix it with my younger self. she makes me so sad. c2. he says i’m his best friend. why do I find it inconceivable that a man could be a real friend? (there’s some issues in me that are around dark corners.) why was I married to someone for 14 years who never felt like my friend? deep wells of sadness.
D. its the beginning of July. I’m not sure I’ll make it through August.
reference all of the above. knowing that the AC in the house will change things, and maybe I will survive after all. maybe.
E. I have a job outside of the house.
I really like it but it is completely not AC. I mean, i’m totally outside, though in shade. but I love it. I sell produce. Its dreamy. Really. Its only 10 hours a week with like 14 hours of child care wrangling each week, but still. a job. motion. rumbles in the farmstand jungles.