Humanity

COVID MY ASS

Yesterday Sucked.

I didn’t want to get out of bed. I had a headache and I wasn’t ever nice, all day. It was a little grey out, and rained in the morning. The kids watched screens for most of the day. I made muffins from a box kit. watched some Miss Fisher. Yelled about school work. Yelled at the LM, with legit disappointment in myself and in him.  Got them all outside for a hot second in the afternoon, onto the trampoline as a group. That was the only feel-good moment of an entire day.  The headache never left, was probably the inadequacy of acetaminophen against allergies.

TODAY IS A NEW DAY, again.

i guess, that one of the things learned is that they DO keep arriving, these new days. I, evidently need the reminder that the days just keep coming.  As my brain falters, and my steps stutter, there is always a new morning.

One of the things I hated most about my ex was his ability to wake up in the morning, fresh as a daisy.  No matter what had happened the night before, each morning he was FRESH AND UNSCARRED.  ( i will never discount the scarring it caused ME, mind you, to have to beg for acknowledgement all of those days…it was almost as if i was living a completely parallel experience, more evidence that i was alone in all of that, so definitely alone…) But still, it was a skill… think of how that must be, to wake up like that?! and now…

TODAY IS A NEW DAY, again.

the kids are resilient.  i know, we all keep saying that.  Resilient doesn’t mean happy or unhappy, anxious or calm, it just means Survival.  The kids are surviving, as am I.  Because we are so lucky to be together, to have the means, to have a yard, to have electricity, to have me being an educated in education person, with a ton of calmness and ability to provide all the bits and pieces to get them all through this… as I get myself through this too.

*regular things:

I did get my hearing checked, by a real ear dr., and got meds and relief and hearing. SO YAY. now i can hear all the yelling.

I’m cooking an awful lot, which is necessary, obviously, but LM is magically helpful. and, truth? i’m not bad at it.

i’ve got an entire zombie-fighting arsenal of resources at my disposal, and they are all inside my body, heart, brain … isn’t that fucking astonishing?

 

LOVE TO YOU, in your zombie-fighting.

UWMOFO

 

 

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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.

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.