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

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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.

Divorce, Humanity

lost and found, but lost.

hi. I’m at the end of my recovery day, from yesterday’s full 24 hours of hell, from both ends. the kids were at school for the bulk of it, but after school were play auditions for two kids, and a soccer game so I needed to ask for help. and it came, with trumpets. kids were taken to tryouts, soccer was watched and that kid got to go out to dinner with his dad…dinner was served to other kids, homework was done.  a small crew of 3 adults did what I do on a normal Wednesday.

I’m not going to tell you I’m not proud of my life.

and I’m going to tell you that you are lucky if you have family and love like I do. so lucky.

today is recovery. fair amounts of water, boredom in bed, sickness at the thought of food, but hungry.  by the time the bus rolled around today, I had moved myself to the kitchen cozy. spent an hour just chatting with my girl because I missed her yesterday. an hour. the bliss of it. just cozied up. I learned about the lady who did all the math for the moon. (Katherine Johnson) Everything stays the same, yes? but these tiny differences? that my girl sits on my lap and tells me all about the LADY that did all the math to save the men who traveled to the moon? oh, it’s rich with possibility. if this were a comic, we would turn the page to the next ms. marvel.

but since I’ve been in bed all day, I now can’t sleep, as weak and ridiculous as I feel. and so I’m here, apologetic.

one thing: I paid to print out the whole of my old blog, wifemotherexpletive.com  

1016190912I thought it would be so cool to go through it and pick out the things that I loved, that I have written, those bits of beauty that slipped through and away during those years.

and I can’t. I read the first post, and the second, and did some flipping. and it is just unbearably sad. I was so sad, all the time, and mad, and lost. like the perfect puppy who lives under the bridge while the happy family walks by, unseeing. I hate ‘near miss’ movies, and I’m pretty sure I lived one for a long time. Maybe the hate comes from the experience.

It was ten years of my life, that writing. and makes two volumes, when divided chronologically. the first is so fat, rich with hope and trying. and the second volume thin, with so much less of everything.

I don’t want to look into the memories, or remember what the code was in my stories, as I was trying so hard to communicate with my husband my devastation at what i was, what we were.

Its been crushing me a little, into sickness maybe? and this is the season when I feel devastation the deepest. if one has any choice in that, at all.

so there it is. my late-night blog. what the hell do i do with all that?

Humanity

spots

fuck ‘the world is too much with us’.

its the way I describe that feeling, when i’m too stressed about things that are much bigger than I am. but fuck it.  we’re dealing with absolutely unprecedented levels of fear and anxiety these days.  fucking ‘cataclysmic’ isn’t even an exaggeration anymore, or a word I have to explain to my kids.

school shootings are a thing. if you touch me on that subject, I burst into flame. my kids are all in public schools and I can’t even begin to consider.

there is an island of trash. people don’t recycle and still litter and it is pretty irrelevant to me whether this is just ‘natural earth cycles’ or not, because litter and pollution in the skies are pretty much human problems.  there’s no snails responsible.

and immediately? the icecaps are fucking melting. and so our weather has changed and is changing and i’m not sure we’re not already doomed.

how the fuck do I talk to my kids about THAT?

and certainly, it bears mentioning that I live in the United States and I have a president who is behaving unbelievably recklessly. the situation that is being created by his actions and lack of integrity may in fact settle us into war, with the world.

I mean, what the fuck man? does being nice at the grocery store help with any of this? does enjoying a snuggle with my kid balance out these IMMENSE disasters?  I have a sick kid here today and she’s responded well to meds and has that glazed, overly illuminated look while she makes a drawing and talks to me.  I’m staring at her, because she’s amazing, and I don’t know what the world will be like for her, in her adulthood. at all.

I find this level of bullshit extraordinarily hard to handle.

are you doing any better? how?

Fall Mix of Ferns Unwifedmotherexpletive

 

Humanity

mean old bastard

there’s a piece of me that is a hard, flinty old man. the man who cuts up the tennis balls that land in his yard, to show those young’uns what ‘respect’ means.

you wouldn’t know it to look at me, but it is there, and it is strong. it is most assuredly NOT the strongest of the bunch, but he does show his head often enough that I know him. He’s really quite reactive.

If I’m cold, he comes out ranting about how I can’t start a fire because it is too early in the season and I’ll run out of wood when I need it most. And I can’t turn on the heat because I’ll run out of money when I need it most.

If I’m lonely, he runs out into the yard to wave his stick at all my faults, including my introversion, which is a bit of a mind-bender.  “If you weren’t so damn picky, you’d have more friends. If you go out with those people, they will really learn about how weird you are.”

curmudgeon. filled with fear and lack… not-enoughness.

UnwifedMotherExpletive on the Beach

I think most people know it, certainly have seen it in others.  its a whole way of explaining American culture right now. I hate you because you might take what I have, someday, somehow, because I really don’t have enough, and I’m scared.

And how do I address that mean old bastard? The more I respect the pieces of me that have developed, the more I realize I can let him rant, and fling his fear around. I can. no big.

as long as I don’t do more than that. I can let him, I don’t need to burn down his house.  I may not want to have him over for dinner but I don’t need to ‘become him’.  I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t work. So, i’m just going to go to the beach and pick up pretty rocks and use a hanky to save the world.

and he can rant, and I can let him. and when he is done, I might bake him some apple crisp.

but guess what? he’s lost his teef.

more for me.

-uwmofo