Humanity

raggedy bitch

so i am home with a child recovering from a night of throw up and fever. she responds like a champ to kids ibuprofen so right now she seems completely normal, like maddeningly normal. .  . but in 4.3 hours, when that dose runs out… its back to weep and groan and moan. . . so there. there is that.

i am mom, hear me roar. again.  this season has been ridiculous. RIDICULOUS.

its nice that so many years have passed of momming now… i get tired… but i’m not nearly as depleted as I was when it was new, and there were two under three… its a huge universe of different.

i’m not as ragged anywhere… sometimes i think back to that time and i wonder how i even got through it.  i was in a marriage that didn’t give me a feeling of safety, or any real sense of ‘break’… i was home with kids all the time and i was overwhelmed by all of it.  i was completely unsure that I existed, outside of what i ‘did’.

i was some kind of raggedy.

there is a real reservoir of peace in my life now.  it sits right next to the reservoir of fear that i also have.  twinning.

honestly, i can’t tell you if the peace pond has gotten deeper or if the fear reservoir is wider or if there’s more peace because the kids are older or because Hubs is out of the picture?  I mean, thats a whole lot of choice and powerful changes, right?

I was supposed to have a meeting with my Reiki teacher, chakra carol, today… but because of kid sickness it was cancelled.  I mean, if i had a dollar for every time i’d had to cancel something because of kids?  sheesh…

anyhow. so we talked on the phone and i bedazzled her with a million items to talk about before she waited me out to exhaustion. and then… things like this.

We are all on a journey to peace. we just don’t all know it.

Acknowledging the fear is the beginning of unraveling it.

I don’t have to go on a shamanic journey, naked in the desert, to deal with my fears, I just have to keep noticing them.  Noticing when I feel them, when I avoid them, what I think they might be…

and Not being ready doesn’t mean Never being ready.

 

So there are days like this, when little is done but laundry and a movie or two… and still, i can drift a thousand times more whole than i ever was before, and there is still work to be done. but here i am. existing.

 

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Humanity

thinks

it used to be that the heroes vanquished the dragons. now, i wonder how we could all become dragons.

 what would happen if i actually did stop feeding them? 

8, such a pretty curvature.

low-lying pants still haven’t died out. i’m still not interested in seeing what kind of underwear you guys are wearing. still. and now i’m 44. i’m so old. why is that style still around? everything else has gone the way of the dodo and then returned. why has this one never left? thank god skinny pants also exist. at least there is variety. but skinny pants lying low so i still see your butt? damn, man, stop.  

You are allowed to be in a season of discovery and deep repair. You are allowed to be unformed and wordless as you change. You are allowed to pour time and energy into inner transformations that no one can see but you.   www.maraglatzel.com in an email… 

Anna Viola Lovind was talking about safety today, and creation… over on instagram. its so beautiful, and i’m all up in it.  I don’t even know if you can link to instagram like this… but she’s @annaviolalovind and its worth watching her there, for beauty’s sake.

today i sent my 13 year old boy to a school that had a threat yesterday.  we got a call from the superintendent last night saying that they, and the police, were taking it very seriously, and school would run normally today, wednesday. this morning i called the police station to assure myself that the threat had been removed.  WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK.  the world. the community. we’ve already all failed. WHAT THE FUCK. i sent him because he had a basketball game and he would not want to miss that.  FUCK .  FUUUUUUUCK. my heart hurts. minute to minute. hurts. 

I thumped my chest this morning, with my sick kid, because WE are Glorious. still. 

I miss holding hands with someone. If you can, go do that. Don’t take it for granted.BarnPhotoi dream of a barn like this, as an art studio, or a house for me in my old age… i’m not that complicated, as it turns out. also, interesting to note: do i really envision sharing it? can i ? 

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Divorce, Humanity

Little bit fallen.

this one’s a little tricky.  so- –  it was a surprise to me to be sitting with my ex and his girlfriend at two sporting events this weekend, in the same day.  it was ‘my weekend’ and wasn’t expecting to see him at all… so i was traipsing between birthday parties and soccer and basketball and lunch-out… like all the days of life….it was busy and i needed to call on my mom and hero brother to do some of the maneuvering, in order to fit it all in.

and in the past, i’ve been given a little warning that it would happen. but i suppose that time has passed.

i am so thankful for the experience, really.  it shows me how far i have come and how much there is still to go.  i can make eye contact with her, fairly easily, at this point.  but not him.  that man i used to call HubsJ.  Watching them have intimacy in that casual way of couples doesn’t hurt at all in the jealousy way, which was very nice to notice…

but it hurts in the way of ‘none of it is real’ way…  if it was false for me, it will be false for her. . . if it was so false for me, how will i ever know when its not?

…. and i am not really sure how to incorporate those things into my world view.  THAT hurts.

The small piece of me that wants them ostracized for the total annihilation of myself is small. really small. but burns pretty brightly in my self-critique.  Maybe I would’ve brushed my hair or something ? but that’s only a maybe, because i live my life pretty damn well, and hair-brushing isn’t a thing that hits my list very often.

–In my self-critique, it is the small fire of ‘revenge’ and ‘judgement’ that I’m so harsh on.  I do feel both, that J is a monster, and that J is not a monster.  Both. and I want everyone to know, both. and the vaguery of this, and the fogginess of it…

–and i do, i do want people to rub my shoulder and love me up for surviving the experience. because man, it really is a fucking doozy.   and, i mean the marriage and i mean the basketball game.

my kids like her mostly, and i’m very happy about that.  and it continues, for me, to never be about her, specifically.  its all about J. and his utterly vacuous cluelessness.  And its about my embarassment .  my feeling of fear, exposure and judgement, failure.  i own it. i’m completely overtaken by it when i’m ‘outed’ in public like this.

I try to congratulate myself for being ‘big enough’ to sit with them. but it only works in hindsight and when I’m trying to be self-congratulatory.  (aha. doubly so.)

and in truth, it needs to be more ABOUT ME. JUST ME.  Me, SOLA e CONTENT.  me, the woman at the game with her kids, meeting her former in-laws and watching her kid leave his soul on the court. thats it. thats all it is.

I spent an awful lot of my life making everything about him. and that is not how my life is supposed to go.

there is a hell of a lot more to me than wifed or unwifed.

i don’t really want to post this one.  Wish I could tell you I was all done with all of this.

But I’m not.

closeup photo of black and green foosball table
Photo by Soumya Ranjan on Pexels.com

 

Humanity

asterisk, not bullet.

a moment, a star to mark what has been left out.

left out? so many things.

*the insecurity that keeps us back… we believe its insecurity that keeps us from being our wild and precious stuff.

*people keep saying they are grieved by mary oliver’s death.  i am not.  she has left us such a precious gift, my god, what more does anyone want from a life?

nothing gold can stay.

but i can read her glitter absolutely any time that i want to, or need to. Its still here. ITS STILL HERE!!!

*the adulting that makes us need tell another adult we don’t want to romantically pursue them. or have them pursue us.

the feeling that results when there is no pursuit. even if the above sentence is also true.

*the place in myself that is getting depressed at not meeting anyone that fires up my heart fires. maybe a belief that nothing gold can stay is making its weight felt too heavily.

*the deep worry that it is not insecurity, but fatheaded laziness that keeps us from our greater wild. inability. lassitude.

because maybe that is true.

these are the left-outs. the misfits. the misfires.

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Humanity

i killed the sofa.

and i’m weeping about it.

hiding from my kids style.

because i approached the handmedown sofa with a drill and a hammer and the screws and nails needed and i couldn’t fix it. and maybe i made it worse, because now no one else will ever be able to undo what i have done.

and in combination with my depression about not finding men that i want in my life, i am finding a lot of fault in my inability to fix the fucking sofa.

i told my kid i needed to be the person who does all this stuff. and i can’t . i can’t do all this stuff.

which leads me to men, again, which then leads me back again, and again, to my desire to fix my own fucking sofa. and yet, i have killed it. dead.

so i’m withdrawing from my life for the afternoon. on a chair. because its becoming way bigger than a sofa.

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and all i want to do is apologize for this post, because no one needs to feel sorry for me, or pay attention to rambling self-pity.