Humanity

Today’s Mood is not a good one.

just letting you know.

  1. All my chickens got eaten. This would be an AGAIN situation.  I’m renaming spring.  Tis now, “That time Kate fed foxes.”
  2. I’m going to build a huge pen, to house the fucking rooster who is still alive.  Okay, so can we talk about his job performance here? Because I really would like to, and it doesn’t seem like real live people in real life want to hear me rant about the cock and all the blusterfuck that goes with it. Helloooo guy who drives a HUMMER.
  3. I’m going to build a huge pen and see if i can make it super strong and viable with pallets and essentially found objects because i really do not have extra money. and I have a handy man around these days and he says its coo.
  4. so coo.
  5. i really like having chickens. it feels like a tie to the ground, and i want to be tethered like that.
  6. it just occurred to me that if i don’t have chickens i am more free to move. that is a whole kettle of fish that i am not really looking at until the last one is 18, and thats a whole different kettle. and all of it makes me sad. i love this place. LOVE.
  7. FUUUUCK.
  8. I love this month, its my birthday month. and school is ruining it.  i live in tremendous fear and anxiety that i am missing the ‘pivotal’ ‘most important’ cute things of their educational careers.  the kids don’t like being the only kids with no parents there, even if they literally NEVER are the only kids with no parents there. i feel sick at buying into the overparenting bullshit. but here i am.
  9. i’m going to be 45. i love it. what a fucking great number.
  10. thats all i got. mood. just rode on a rider mower for an hour, cleaning up my yard.
    BOSS.

 

love you,

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Divorce, Humanity

Divorced Parents

I continue to be amazed when I meet and know parents who’ve divorced, with how many variations there are of the experience and how commonly held the fears about the kids experiencing the process.

mine is one of a super privileged type: i was able to keep my house, and live in it.  i have the kids all week, he has them three weekends a month, and dinner on tuesdays. during the summer tuesdays become a sleepover!

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i’ve seen parents who can’t afford to house their children after the divorce and so have family take them in, while the former spouse refuses to pay child support. 

i’ve seen parents move in with new boyfriends just to provide that ‘stable’ thing they’ve always dreamed of for their kids. fingers crossed on that particular one.

I’ve seen parents stay living in the same house, but different rooms, in a state of near constant rage and hurt and despair because the money is so complicated and the kids aren’t even told. (imagine what that is like to live in?)

i’ve seen women get full time jobs and have their moms move in to help.

i’ve seen dads fighting for full custody against social norms and expectations. but, man, do they have to fight.

i know so many divorced people who have such great nostalgia for the ‘time before’ the divorce, not because they love that person anymore, but because they ‘loved’ that person once upon a time, and the sadness of that loss is still with them, compounded by the sadness and pain of the divorce process and the acquisition of worry for the kids. 

i’m one of them. i find it very difficult during these end of the year school things to not have the person i created these kids with by my side.  and when i do have him literally there? to realize that the man i was married to is gone, again, replaced by an irritating stranger who hurts my feelings by looking so much like someone i miss.

hmm. this is really quite a grabbag post about divorced parents. how’d you like that ramble? sheesh. Anyhow. Not divorced?  Go hug someone who is, because man, this is a doozy.

and it just keeps going on. . .

 

Humanity

SnapBack

I’m feeling really weird lately.  I’ve definitely been hiding truth from my online friends and i’ve not written here for an entire week.

Don’t take it personally, I haven’t written elsewhere either.  (winking at you)

I have been feeling really judgemental and paranoid and really ugly, and when I feel like that?  The best solution is to remove myself from public consumption.  I don’t want to spread that kind of crap around.

I’m talking sneering judgement on people that I like…  scorn of lifechoices.  Jealousy of their ‘product’, even if its simply their cute kids… believing that people are treating their lives like something to sell… suspicion of their ‘perfection’ of marketing, sneering, lip curling crap.  so much fucking judgement.  i can’t stop my fucking brain.  ( i even want to say its something else, not ‘brain’, but … spleen? some other part of my reptilian core…) fug.

sigh.

These are people that I actually know. and like. and know.

I am full of shit.

I have been looking into it, slowly and tentatively, because you KNOW that sneer applies to myself in double doses… self-loathing is a pretty damn disgusting thing.

and I think that it goes like this:

because I’m spending time with a new man, and truly trying to expand my lovecircles,

stretching my vulnerability beyond comfort… hearing and understanding all that I never actually had before. It’s more than joy because it’s bringing up so much grief.  and so much fear.

I am experiencing a massive snapback.

a rubberband snap on the risk/wrist.  a bungee cord in the face.

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But it’s FOUL.  FOUL.

And so today,  I go off to Chakra Carol, when life is so busy I can barely stand it.  End of the school year freaking insanity… concerts, plays, field trips. frucking aye.

And I need therapy. so I’m going to get it today.  Hopefully, she’ll realign me and get me back on the track I started out on.  ?  Hopefully, I’ll contain my bile and pestilence while I am with her because I LOVE her.

sigh.

 

**I’ll finish packing for the kid who is leaving on a four day school trip to DC when I get home, after I buy him a dress shirt, because, hey, why plan in advance for these things? Last night we discovered his roommate wasn’t going because of injury, and boy, were there so many phonecalls and an irate mother and thank god i’m not the teacher in charge of this. He now has a roommate that he’s going to enjoy or two, and all is well.  Everyone just say a good healthy prayer for the teachers you know.  In my case, Susan Viveiros, you get a big fat prayer from me.

BIG FAT ONE.

Divorce, Humanity

small life, redux. (ha!)

Its like the balls of tinfoil candywrappers you find around the house after any holiday, but halloween and easter really seem to be the producers around here.  the little bit of sparkle that is bitter when mouthed.

thats what its like. listening to myself when i’m scared of something.

UnwifedMotherExpletive Small Life tinfoil wrapperand i’m scared, a little, of this small life i have, and the change inherent in the choice of vulnerability.

i have this brilliant life.. although there has been a lot of death this week, in life and in my chicken coop, and the contrast between humanity and farm has never been more clear.

the loss of 10 birds to a death by suicide?

wordless .

 

 

 

large break.

and remembering can be pretty hard sometimes.  and imagining can be hard sometimes, too, when pain and deepest sadness are at root. and in a small life it can be all consuming.

but there are other sides to the coin, as always.

this small life, this dandelion of detail that keeps pushing its way into my foreground, this need to spread joy underground, to be persistent against all the formality and form of the ‘just so’… it is me digging in my heels against the perfect lawn, the ‘be happy’ mentality, against my own self-judgement for having a ‘mom’s boyfriend’… because i judge that phrase . so. damn. much.  and i can withdraw more and more. and the small life warps a little… and again, and again, the dandelion bursts its sun into a million wishes… and who the hell am i to warp that?

and i’m so incredibly lucky and so incredibly heartbroken that not everyone finds the dandelion.

 

thats a sentence to end on…

Divorce, Humanity

Meds and the medsing meds.

So, these last few weeks have been full of small glitches in the routine, which, yes, I know are ACTUALLY the routine. but still.  sick kids, sick me, sick them, sick middle of the day, procedures, appointments missed, car troubles, money troubles, and so on. . . fucking daylight savings time and missed buses! and you get my drift. . .

so, i’ve been off my routine.  and one of the things i’ve done is been inconsistent with taking my anti-depressants. and thats had weird results.

somedays i have a really weepy afternoon, full of conversations (internal) with an ex, that will never ever happen, and shouldn’t and won’t. and the weep will make me realize i haven’t taken my meds, and will also make me realize i haven’t dealt with a certain something that is on repeat in my brain.

today i have forgotten to take it, and i have no excuse. its my Sunday of relax. I mean, well, i get from wakeup til one, when the kids return and we cook , or play video games or have family come by… today there’s another practice, which i hate, but whatever. i just texted the coach to see if she could do the driving for the kid. we’ll see.

i’m not depressed, i will tell you that.  i’ve friends who are, have been, and what i have is not this.  When the marriage was so hard, I had all the therapists tell me to get on meds, honestly, and I kept saying no because i knew my upset was situational and not chemical. ( i know i’ve talked about this before, but i think it bears repeating, again and again, in case someone needs it).

Once the separation started, the therapist at the time, said the only thing that ever made me change my ways.  She said that being in a hard situation for so long will change your chemicals… and thats what i needed help in dealing with.

oh.  so my crushingly depressing homelife, full of repetition and hope and deflation could be eased with a chemical? no. first i needed to be the only adult here, because i can really count on me.

really.

and that matters a hell of a lot.

but . my point. meds and the medsing meds that i am not always taking.

what i wonder about is this:  these things that are popping up on my weepy afternoons and my mind-ratatattat that i am hearing/feeling…. ARE they things that I must feel in order to have them dissipate?  Have I somehow been dulling these details with the meds? –and the only way to actually heal from them is to FEEL all the feels, even these stupid, old wound ones?

i honestly probably need to seek a therapist, right? does some OTHER person have the answer to this? do I ?

ha. just occurred to me i might find an answer in both directions: if i get consistent again and also if i just stop.

blagh. but, as i need to count on me, and so do my kids, i should probably find out if there are repercussions to stopping before i do.

because hello. MOM.

so what if i just had raisin bran for lunch? i’m the adult.

laughing… its my sunday thinks…

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