Humanity

Burn! Burst! Die!!

In fall, things flame before they die. There is Fire! Pain! Dramaaaaaa. And then wintry death.

I’m on my phone, typing with a flashing digit of my own. It’s all surreal, how many changes we’ve incorporated fairly seamlessly. (technology, divorce… )And the changes we cannot seem to absorb? Those are surreal as well. (technology, divorce…)

its another day now, i’m not on the phone anymore, which is a blessing. i’m 100% positive I cannot communicate well with it, even verbally.

so here i am.

It is really so clear here, where we have such a fiery fall, that there are these last gasps of glamour, and one strong wind will sweep us into the branch segment of our year.  the sticks of winter, the pokey bits.

i’m feeling a little dissociated lately, even the writing i do for myself feels a little flat.  i just thought about telling you how my direct line of sight goes to a row of evergreens out the window, so i find it very easy to feel/see/remember green year-round.

and then i stopped myself (obviously i lost that battle, in the end, but the gears all jarred, clang clang clang) because i thought it was too flat, too un-quippy.

Last year i was very caught off-guard by the grief i felt at the fifth Fall since my dad died. This year i’m not caught off-guard but am surprised by how much I feel like crawling into a hole for the month.

and there is nothing I can do about it. The kids keep demanding to be fed. The dog barks, the chickens will just up and die. So there is no hole for me.

PISS! GROAN! HIDE!

sigh.

1019191812

Advertisements
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

Daisy Crowns

Currently my LM (Loveliest Man)  is in the hospital. He’s okay, likely to be getting out today, not a heart attack but a very mild stroke-like thing.

I have a friend receiving a bone-marrow transplant as I type.

I have two online friends starting chemo this week. two.

another online friend has a child with Leukemia, in treatment currently.

We all need to tie up our strings, or let them fly out behind us in the wind, as we run across the fields we have sown.

saying ‘the world is too much with us’ isn’t enough.  the world is frucking scary right now and I don’t know how to console my children when the amazon is on fire. for profit.

Get your daisy crowns on, make your prayer chains. lie down in the grass. i mean it.

My energy is all about expansion and explosion these days.  Gobs of love and delight are landing like napalm and burning all over the place. Send it.

and pray for us all, in your way. all the time, really. 0817191123a

 

 

Humanity

current mood: crackhead

Sitting in the Car- UnwifedMotherExpletivei’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.

Gobacken Sidonna.

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.

love you.

-uwmf