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…

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Humanity

hysteria mounting.

theres a looming feeling of hysteria in my chest. i don’t know if its the overwhelming amount of parenting i’m doing, the encroaching approaching weird summer to be.. (for the entire month of july i won’t have all the kids at once. at all. i’m already freaking out.) …. no idea for what, but its there. maybe just a pms surge.  there is a lot of unknown when it comes to my hormones these days. i’ve got an IUD and it doesn’t always allow there to be an actual let-down of blood, and I can’t tie my emotions to an actual event.

but the mounting hysteria? thats real. I’m 44 now, and I think most emotions are going to pass through and I’m choosing to look at this one like its temporary.

there’s a man in my town right now, and he is fully and completely unexpected.  as you know, if you’ve been reading here a long long time. there is a whole lot to say about this but it is WAY too soon.

Mounting Hysteria UnwifedMotherExpletive

and i’m thrilled and terrified to the point of nausea and having a fairly powerful amount of PTSD in ways that I really thought I had processed.  but when you ask someone if they want a drink in order to see if they are a secret alcoholic? um…

that doesn’t work, one… and its a very strange sort of manipulation of situation.  like, do i get a man drunk just to prove he is a drunk and then run away?? is that how that goes?

um. when he forgets something in the restaurant and has to run back in… do i wait and peek in the windows and see if he is at the bar? or just assume he is and drive away mad?  (in my own car, that is…)  sigh. yes, a real thing.

its very old news. and yet, i’m reliving some of this shit.

and again i say, i thought i’d been dealing with some of this stuff. i’m having days where i am so fucking sad about ‘their dad’.. because he’s still just the same and it breaks me.

but i’ve been working for about four years on how to make life for myself more safe. and for my kids. safe, steady, consistent, recognizable. safe. consistent. recognizable. did i say that already?

and today i am just jibbering in the corner because everything from here on is completely unknown, and I don’t know how to make the right decision for my kids .

i am flat out terrified. i just am too worn down to put it in its place. so there i am.

 

Humanity

A Small Life

I have been coming to the realization that there may not be hundreds of people at my funeral.

This may be a strange opening sentence.  I can’t tell anymore. I spend a lot of time alone.

I’m smiling.  people that love me tend to argue with me over this point. i’m not totally sure why. kind of, maybe, but not entirely.

i’m 44, i’m an introvert.  i love and take great great pleasure in working from home and having the kids with me when they are. (mostly. i’m no saint.) i’m a homebody. i don’t want my kids to be sick but its a thrill of a lifetime when they are and i can nourish them to health. *I’m here, I’m the universe.  I love people and I like to see them and laugh with them. but my circles are small, and i take great delight in the smallness of my life, most of the time.

when my dad died 5 years ago, there were hundreds of people at his services. and i’m not exaggerating. and i know other people who are still alive who will have that problem… well, you know what i mean… but i’m working on being really content with who i am.

working like: dirtyhands in the soil working.  cracked skin and calloused fingers.

i have a small life. a little life.  a life with children who are dynamic people living in my home still, a home, a dog, chickens, some land, a very fledgling ability to make a living…small.  *not insignificant, just small.

*the universe is in the grain of rice, ya dig?  thats me.

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Humanity

Fluttergaze and a shotgun.

i spent the weekend with an infant and i watched him gaze and then look away and then go back to gazing…

and i do that, all the time… so much the gaze, the introspection, the focus … The Startle:  then i can’t handle it and need to withdraw in a figurative bubble to repair.  its as if the study and gaze of mine has rent me.

do you know that language? its how it feels.

and so after a wonderful weekend and a reunion with my man, i’m just barely able to get out of bed.

and i do not dig it.

and the world is rushing in to my bubble and i feel vulnerable to all the things.

i do not dig.

i look back at my most recent journaling and it tells me what i know is necessary. practice. receiving. practice.

like get down on your knees and practice. literally do something uncomfortable, completely force the boundaries to stretch, make yourself sick with the twist, get down on your knees and open up that cracked up walnut chest and just sit there, exposed. because that is the practice that I have to do these days.  I don’t know what is coming, and I still have to do it and I don’t really know if I can, if I can brave that particular chill.

i’ve felt this call before and brushed it off. this need to immerse, to peel off the skin… to bulletize… to turn myself insides out. . . i’m not sure that brushing it off is serving me anymore and i’m intimidated .

and i’m still laughing, and able to laugh even while inviting new guy to watch kids baseball games and expose us to publicity of a sort… – – – i did that.

and i still feel like i need to take all my clothes off and walk into the blizzard.

what is this?

tell me. Unwifedmotherexpletive collage page Just Observe

 

 

 

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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