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.
and i’m hoping to re-enter this world here more often. but lets not hold our breaths.
I can’t tell you what it is like to have ‘hints’ of devastation. i mean, devastation is shattering, life-ending, altering, forever changed, yes? and, ‘hint’ doesn’t seem to match or belong in that deeper stone-sinking way. the simple sink of stone.
i’ve been having a head cold. Oh my god, you think, this fool is talking about a cold? In this world? In this time? Coronavirus, Flu, Corporations as People, Trump? These things that are killing us, in so many ways? And she is on about a cold?
yes. My ears, (history here.) … or the one ear that is an option, have been inconsistent. There is some kind of infection in my one working ear. I’m on my second string of azithromycin and prednisone and it doesn’t seem to be effective. I can’t get in to my new primary doctor until july. Health insurance won’t cover the ENT without a referral. I’m devastated by the financial shitshow of health insurance.
I’m operating at lip-reading level and lips to ears level with the kids. I don’t completely want to leave the house for anything because I am feeling very vulnerable to accident and mistake. (not physical accidents as when i drive deaf i am paying attention in a way you hearing people cannot fathom. think, superhero strength attention. i almost always need a nap afterward.)
the whole world is draped in the heavy blanket of your wintery dreams. It is heavy, and I feel clouded as I walk. The light begins to hurt. I feel sad when I can’t figure out what my kids are talking about. you know, they keep talking anyway, and its just a whole lot of life that is missed. and there isn’t anything i can do about it. the conversation is just lost. The brush with depression is instantaneous and many of my lesser demons of self-worth start waving their fucking arms like Kermit.
I’m wearing my hearing aide, but its basically useless. It gives me the higher tones, so i can hear the crying of the overtired seven-year-old in my midst, or the singing of my 12. And believe me, both are precious to me right now, though i do assign proper value. heh.
i actually have two meeting-new-people things this week and i’m freaking jibbering with nerves because its literally the worst possible scenario. not only am i not at my best, i am actually at incompetent.
and i’m going to do it anyways. because i am 45, and i am too reclusive, and even my worst self needs to get out and see human beings. i’m not entirely sure that those human beings will feel the same certainty, but we will all be okay.
I’m going to vote for Elizabeth Warren today. I understand that Bernie is ahead, but in all truth, I think Warren could actually DO a million and one things to make the world a better, more equitable place for the majority of American citizens.
So, there are pings for desperation. and pings for hope. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed, again and again, that spring will come, that strength will return to our democracy and that the crisis will pass.
i will hear again, and the light will Light ME. Tis the season, right?
I stopped myself from posting this morning at 2 am. i didn’t even get out of bed to type. it was good though, and thoroughly rambly, hitting on what its like to be married to an alcoholic, what it is like to remember that was almost 5 years ago, how fun it was to remember i have a kickass libido… what its like to be sweating in bed with a 7-year-old, what its like to be ‘happy’ that the kid who is sick now cleans up his own throwup. He even put a towel down on his own bed before he got into it. because you know, laundry. He is 14. Oh, it was a post for the ages.
But I just lay there instead.
Every single kid in the house has been down with throw up in the past week. There are only three kids here, my hysterics aside, it is not a monkeyhouse or a bunnyhutch.
Who am i kidding? its totally a monkeyhouse here. These kids live with me, the winging-est mom of the neighborhood. I think i have hard-and-fast rules and you know? one smudge of intelligent resistance and the gates are down. i’m talking about negotiables really, like, screens before school and things of that nature.
Although I’d be hard-pressed to think of something besides cruelty that is truly outlawed.
and, astonishingly, i still have to deal with that one anyways. We have …children. They have the same cruelty adults do, its just less well-honed.
sigh. aren’t you glad i took my time this morning, to give you something well-crafted and thought-provoking? hmm?
I’m what is called a ‘pantser’. I just learned about this, its a term, for real, for writers who flow ‘by the seat of their pants’. not a lot of planning here.
i’m doing fine though, fine. i’m taking my vitamins. and i’m planning on a bath, later.
call me. someone.
**-oh, also discovered when the 14-year-old woke me up at 1 to tell me he was sick? my hearing aide is broken. so i’m doing this all deaf. which you might not think is a big deal. but it is.
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.
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)
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.