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’ve been having bad dreams lately. the kind where you wake up and shake your head and feel anxious in your heart and go back to sleep and end up in exactly the same place.
dream one: having an old argument with an old argue-partner, in which i am reminded how easy it is to gaslight me, which has many layers in it. his completely unacceptable behaviors were justified to me, and I struggled (again) to absorb the justifications as valid.
dream two: really big house party (mine) in which there are long and lithe people in black and white and beauty and dancing and a gorgeous house that i really would love…and I don’t know anyone and I’m waiting for someone to arrive that i can talk to. the only person who does is an old lover that I’m embarrassed to explain this all to. I spend the dream avoiding and seeking his presence. and feeling really isolated whilst surrounded by people. I do dance though.
There is a full moon, i am full of premenstrual hormonal shift. I never, ever, remember dreams. I have a new love who is challenging me in many core ways and I am fighting HARD the notion that I can rely on someone else. HARD. if i rely on someone again, i will be crushed and therein lose my ability to do this all by myself like i am. I’m the only thing that is permanent here.
this is fairly distressing to type as well as to feel.
2. The kitchen is a goddamned mess. I need the kids to be back in school. There is too much screen time and I’m missing them while they are having such fun times with their dad. It is too much sometimes, and I”m overloaded by the disparities between the two and my rational brain really does argue for my value but ouch, sometimes. guess what? i do not own a boat or have the ‘best’, or buy my kids ipads because they win a dare. i just can’t. and so i feel like a loser sometimes and right now the kitchen just feels too big to even tackle. i’ll do one corner of it today before all pandemonium of my work shift/drive kid to babysitting grandmother sets in. probably. or maybe i’ll just cry in the corner. hello moon. and hormones, hello.
aren’t you glad you stopped in? hee hee. ugh.
and so, a brilliantly beautiful photo to round it out:
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.
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!
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.