Divorce, Humanity, Uncategorized

Fog continues. Grief. I know fabrics.

Today i’ve turned off all the kitchen lights, and am typing by computer screen, sparkle lights and a damp grey morning. soft wool. 1120180831a

people are really lovely, they really are. above all.  cashmere.

and still, yesterday i almost crawled back into my bed while the kids were here.  it can be done, but i can only handle it when there is no will left in my body, and vomit is coming forth.

so i must have some will left in my body while the fog is here.  i stay out of bed while kids are here.  old school corduroy, stiff, scratchy.

but man, this grief is hitting hard this year.  and its been five years, so there isn’t a real trigger, except in realizing how much time has passed and how mad i am at my dad for not being here for these five years, and how i would really like to have him around, mad or not.  and how i still look for him everywhere. piles and piles of washed cotton, cold and damp.

its been a big five years.

i think i’d still be unhappily married if it weren’t for what his death showed me.  it uncovered the truth of my unhappiness. the untrustworthy man, the unreliable man, the inexplicable man that i was married to brought Bold in the loss of what in many ways was his opposite.  the things i loved so about my husband were washed out by the things which really make him ‘not the marrying sort’… no matter how many times he tries.

and here i am, swamped into the tub, barely reaching the lip to see out.  turning down work, or asking for delays while i sink.  flannel.

man.

 

its been a big five years. plasticwrap. (not fabric, but still. how it feels.)

Advertisements
Humanity

My favorite boss/waiting for a mudslide/faithjones

My favorite boss ever is the scary angel uncle in The Nutcracker.  You know, the one who is terrifying, completely, but for some reason Clara likes him and then you realize he’s a great Wizard bringing the Magic and the Fear of Mice into the world…? That guy? Yeah, he’s my boss.

He tells me to go make a facebook ad. A duplicate of one he ran six years ago.  And then he shoves me and tells me not to bother him anymore.

I cry a lot, in anguish, when I don’t know what words mean. . . and i cry a lot here right now.  CTR, CPM…. ROI… Technically, I know what they all mean, but I’ve had to look them up, all of them, and I am not clear on how they relate to me, or what i am trying to do.

and … it all hurts my heart….WHY? WHY, you say!

1. to admit that I don’t sell anything and if i have to peddle in this stuff, i might completely fail when I do find something to sell.

2. that i am 44 and i don’t know how to learn this stuff.  I don’t know whether i need to go buy a book and a highlighter and just camp out til it makes sense…

or youtube videos? pay some kid to sit with me and teach me, simple steps? how to duplicate without making a million clones..? I mean, seriously, i don’t know if i can do this.  and i might blow something ‘real’ up in the process….

and plus, you guys, WHY IS THE WORLD LIKE THIS?????

why are we tracking all this data? why are we so full of manipulation and money-grubbing?

….which is to say…. i have realized that my dream of being paid to just write for you, here, is a fairy tale.  one of many, yes, that my golden shard wholeheartedly throws herself at daily.

she just ‘believes’ I can. without any data, or product to sell. just belief. faith.

it cuts me to the quick.

sitting back, waiting for a mudslide to close the road.

what to do about this? any of it? the golden shard, crystal?

oh my word, could i be Atreyu’s Empress?! Could I?

PLEASE?!

good god, its so good to realize my true calling. so damn good.

 

 

ah. faith.   i’ve got so many questions for you.

Divorce

Sliver of Innocence, you glowing thing, you.

So, yesterday I had therapy.  Well, technically, I missed therapy.  My appointment reminder happened five minutes before i was meant to walk in, and its 20 minutes from here.  My frantic call, my hatred of self for having to pay for something I didn’t even benefit from… blagh.

BUT, as the universe unfolds and unfolds and unfolds again, it worked perfectly. she had a space later in the day and another patient mistook her appt and showed up just in time to take my missed space.

get the convolution that unfolded for all of us there?

Believe it or not the point of this post has nothing to do with any of that. Actually, i think that is fairly par for the course for my meandering style.

One of the things that has been bugging me lately is my own idealism.  Its causing me grief as I try to date or not date. I try so hard to accept people as they are, and I think 98% of me does this…  but there are slivers and shards of me that are looking for the big love, the knight in shining armor, the completely unreal.

And I’m trying to deal with these slivers in therapy. and its messing with me on the daily.  Those slivers still can’t believe that the big love I had wasn’t enough. That the big love I had didn’t meet its match in reciprocity. Those slivers kept me in a marriage about three years too long. They are little fiberglass splinters… can’t see em but they hurt and hurt and hurt.

I KNOW that this is my naivete. My little glowing shard that Superman opens up the vault with… I KNOW THIS.  But I am so mad at that little glowing thing.  I am not sure how to wrap my hands around it without choking it to death.  I’m afraid of what such violence would do to me.  What if its my golden center?

AAAAARGGGH. I don’t have the answers. but it has been suggested to me that i invite the glowing shard in, ask her to sit down at the campfire with my cynicism and my creativity and my color obsessions and make some new stories.  some grown up ones, where golden can stay, and change, and glow.

so i have work to do. a whole shebangs of shebangs the drum.

 

 

Divorce, Humanity

grounding, grounding…

so. i make a big statement in the previous post, like, ‘tell the universe’… and its sort of woo-woo, and some people (my internal world) think froofroo = avoidance of  GOD words.  but i don’t avoid GOD words, just so you know.

when my dad died, just about 5 years ago now, I lost my faith. utterly.  it wasn’t right, it didn’t make sense, it did NOT fit the faith system and security that i had thought was there.  call me a priviledged whitie, its allright. i was. and probably am, in more ways than i’m even aware of .  (and i am aware.)

so boom. lost my dad and lost my faith blanket all at once.  it left me reeling, both were things i took great comfort in, since and after i was old enough to talk… i’ll tell you that.  i think the support of them both, and the loss of them both made it all the more clear to me how desparately sad and unsupportive my marriage had become and made me rise up and bring about its end.  bwahahaha haaaaa.

AND SO.  while there are millions of pages to be written about the above paragraphs, still, today is not that day.

1016180819a

i find myself growing a new faith. now, five years on… little sprouts of faith in myself.  (without losing humility, at. all.)  faith in the world, faith in humanity, faith in goodness… its a rebirth of that supportive net that i had all my life, but with new shapes and colors… but the same feelings…

its a whole new relationship with the concept behind the words i used to use.

and its ironic, as the whole world seems headed for hell in a handbasket of intolerance.

but i’ve been thinking a lot about how i can gather more moments of stillness, more moments when i feel my feet planted… when i feel like my intuition and guidance systems have a chance to be heard…..

and i think im going to think some more about it… I’ll get back here in a bit… 🙂

lurve…

 

 

Humanity

Boating, messing about with boats…

0920181028d

I like to mess around with the algorithms a little bit. like, a post wherein boating is discussed ad nauseam and yet boating is not the topic whatsoever. Do you think it possible that I could draw masses of boating enthusiasts here without a single fact or thought process about boats? sailors maybe, but not the actual fiber-glass boat or dingy of my dreams. . . we’re rowers here, not motorheads… or they are, at least, my in-law family.  i love them to bits and pieces, fully and whole heartedly.

and it can twinge, sometimes, that they are separated from me by my ex. i don’t mean that he bars us from seeing one another or anything like that… its their love for him that is unwavering and my loss of love for him that is the bar. the separation.

moments of awkward, information passed accidentally, stories told of places i can no longer go.

sigh. bridges, unburnt but barred by time and experience.

and i would love to be gossiping to my mother in law about all my men.  she would love to hear facts about them… and i’d love for her to meet them, when i meet a good and fascinating one.  and, with the right attitude, they are all fascinating.

because people just ARE.

 

as fascinating as boat enthusiasts, i swear.

*cracking up. . .