Humanity

Ping. Hearing Loss, for the Ping.

I can’t tell you what it is like to have ‘hints’ of devastation.  i mean, devastation is shattering, life-ending, altering, forever changed, yes? and, ‘hint’ doesn’t seem to match or belong in that deeper stone-sinking way.  the simple sink of stone.

i’ve been having a head cold.  Oh my god, you think, this fool is talking about a cold? In this world? In this time? Coronavirus, Flu, Corporations as People, Trump? These things that are killing us, in so many ways? And she is on about a cold?

yes.  My ears, (history here.) … or the one ear that is an option, have been inconsistent. There is some kind of infection in my one working ear.  I’m on my second string of azithromycin and prednisone and it doesn’t seem to be effective.  I can’t get in to my new primary doctor until july.  Health insurance won’t cover the ENT without a referral.  I’m devastated by the financial shitshow of health insurance.

I’m operating at lip-reading level and lips to ears level with the kids.  I don’t completely want to leave the house for anything because I am feeling very vulnerable to accident and mistake. (not physical accidents as when i drive deaf i am paying attention in a way you hearing people cannot fathom. think, superhero strength attention. i almost always need a nap afterward.)

the whole world is draped in the heavy blanket of your wintery dreams. It is heavy, and I feel clouded as I walk. The light begins to hurt. I feel sad when I can’t figure out what my kids are talking about. you know, they keep talking anyway, and its just a whole lot of life that is missed. and there isn’t anything i can do about it. the conversation is just lost.  The brush with depression is instantaneous and many of my lesser demons of self-worth start waving their fucking arms like Kermit.

I’m wearing my hearing aide, but its basically useless. It gives me the higher tones, so i can hear the crying of the overtired seven-year-old in my midst, or the singing of my 12. And believe me, both are precious to me right now, though i do assign proper value. heh.

i actually have two meeting-new-people things this week and i’m freaking jibbering with nerves because its literally the worst possible scenario. not only am i not at my best, i am actually at incompetent.

and i’m going to do it anyways. because i am 45, and i am too reclusive, and even my worst self needs to get out and see human beings. i’m not entirely sure that those human beings will feel the same certainty, but we will all be okay.

I’m going to vote for Elizabeth Warren today. I understand that Bernie is ahead, but in all truth, I think Warren could actually DO a million and one things to make the world a better, more equitable place for the majority of American citizens.

So, there are pings for desperation. and pings for hope. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed, again and again, that spring will come, that strength will return to our democracy and that the crisis will pass.

i will hear again, and the light will Light ME.  Tis the season, right? Green and Pink Dahlia Unwifedmotherexpletive

 

Humanity

Halt. Who goes there? Why the hell are you here?

I stopped myself from posting this morning at 2 am. i didn’t even get out of bed to type.  it was good though, and thoroughly rambly, hitting on what its like to be married to an alcoholic, what it is like to remember that was almost 5 years ago, how fun it was to remember i have a kickass libido… what its like to be sweating in bed with a 7-year-old, what its like to be ‘happy’ that the kid who is sick now cleans up his own throwup. He even put a towel down on his own bed before he got into it. because you know, laundry.  He is 14. Oh, it was a post for the ages.

But I just lay there instead.

Every single kid in the house has been down with throw up in the past week. There are only three kids here, my hysterics aside, it is not a monkeyhouse or a bunnyhutch.

Who am i kidding? its totally a monkeyhouse here. These kids live with me, the winging-est mom of the neighborhood.  I think i have hard-and-fast rules and you know? one smudge of intelligent resistance and the gates are down. i’m talking about negotiables really, like, screens before school and things of that nature.

Although I’d be hard-pressed to think of something besides cruelty that is truly outlawed.

and, astonishingly, i still have to deal with that one anyways.  We have …children. They have the same cruelty adults do, its just less well-honed.

sigh. aren’t you glad i took my time this morning, to give you something well-crafted and thought-provoking? hmm?

I’m what is called a ‘pantser’.  I just learned about this, its a term, for real, for writers who flow ‘by the seat of their pants’.   not a lot of planning here.

i’m doing fine though, fine. i’m taking my vitamins. and i’m planning on a bath, later.

fine.

call me. someone.

 

**-oh, also discovered when the 14-year-old woke me up at 1 to tell me he was sick?  my hearing aide is broken. so i’m doing this all deaf. which you might not think is a big deal. but it is.

Humanity

Body Love

I’m in ache. I’m in spiral. I’ve got an ear infection that has knocked my hearing down to need-to-lipread levels. Not hearing makes me quake and quiver with fear and rage. But. the infection has been keeping me up at night so exhaustion is throwing a blanket over everything. I’m on meds now, thank you ex, and …

and I’m so thankful for this body that I have.  The legs which kick and stride. The mouth that yells and loves in lockstep with the hands that gesture and hold.

and when I have a lover, I love my curves and sways and folds. nakedness is the most beautiful thing. and oh my goodness, it is appreciated. and that is GLORIOUS.

and when I am in mothermode, I love what this body has made, what these folds and wings have grown.

and i’m still going to the gym, because i need the action of challenging my heart to beat faster. not in fear or anxiety, but in body love. LOVE.

I’m trying to get more in touch with it. Maybe think about what pieces have not literally been touched (although LM is really taking care of that business lately, and always) …

The no-winter and the coming spring are also on my mind. the growth, the strength needed to withstand inconsistency, needed to push out of the ground. these are the things I need to have in my container.

the boy who was utterly smashed by sickness this week is sitting with me at the kitchen table this morning, after having slept for almost 14 hours. he asked me if being a mother was hard. I say, “Sometimes… but it is, mostly, the never knowing what you’ll get that is hard. sometimes it is yelling, sometimes it’s sick. you never know” and the secret is, that’s what makes it great too.  You never know what you’re going to get.  Those glory days sneak in on you and just APPEAR, in the midst of all the laundry. The orgasm that catches you off guard and throws you off the cliff.

It’s all worthwhile and my body has carried me, the whole way.  I’ve got my own Samwise, flaws and all.

Knight Helmet Body Love Unwifedmotherexpletive
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

 

 

Humanity

Archetypes and Mother Teresa

yep, you read that right. I’m on day 3 of listening to * Carolyn Myss talk about Archetypes, and how we all can relate better and feel more connected when we use a common language of symbol and metaphor.  (of course, cross-cultural might provide hills and valleys, but Mother, Mother is the broadest thing in the universe, potentially, but is still Mother. Child, Warrior, Student, Saboteur, ) These are elements we have within us, not what we do to others, necessarily.

For fucksake, Mother Theresa wasn’t even a mother, and she was.  right? we dig? Its not ‘literal’, its symbolic, full of meaning that doesn’t even need to be spoken. men can be Mother, ladies without kids can be Mother. whatever.

again, whatever. So, work is slow and I’m looking into the things I love.  I love mysticism, have, do, but because I went to a Jesuit College, I studied a whole bunch of mystics, and I don’t envy them a goddamned bit.*= I mean, we’re talking very very dark trials and tribulations, some including blood and abandonment and hysteria, and super early deaths.  So, you know, not that much of a celebrity thing.

BUT, I love Mother Theresa. And I’ve been getting into the whole ‘Listening to things on tape/phone’ thing lately. it allows me to concentrate in a way that I haven’t for a very long time, almost collegiate-ly.*-

“If I ever become a saint—I will surely be one of ‘darkness,’” Mother Teresa wrote in September of 1959. “I will continually be absent from heaven—to light the light of those in darkness on earth.” *& This site

oh, man, she is my guy. (I know)

and one of the archetypes that i’m learning I have in me is that of the Innocent Child, the Magical Child… ooooh, sparkly lights and rainbows and steadfast faith and oooh, a butterfly!! its not an immature thing, or naïve, but it is a pretty significant part of me in much of my life thus far. And… every archetype has its flipside, or ‘shadow’ and the times when my child is despondent, and believes in nothing, and hides in the blanket fort, are for real.  Disappointment, loss of faith in the goodness, oh man, they swing through and knock me down.

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I am not equating my mood swings to Mother Teresa’s dark nights of the soul. except metaphorically. **

anyhow, i’m freehanding this, and I want to stop now to go back to thinking. so, there. Oh my word, I just started to type something about how my bulletpoints below are hollow but stopped to look up what that meant literally and oh my god, guys, what kind of world are we living in?!

*I don’t know much about Myss or Sacred Contracts, or what not, but I ‘GET’ the idea of archetypes, whether we grasp them on the surface or just recognize them floating under the dock.  I just ‘get’ it.

*=my language is pretty damn funny/punny. unintentional, I swear.

*-let us now talk about the girl who is deaf getting back into ‘listening’, shall we? no? okay then.

*& I don’t know anything about this site but its where I got the quote so I had to link.

**if there is a God, and a ‘living’ Mother T, then i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m not worthy… full on face in dirt.

Humanity

Lies I tell myself lately. . .

bakery baking birthday blur
Photo by Tookapic on Pexels.com

I will eventually be done with this.

(it applies to 100s of things, and its a lie, in 100s of situations.)

I’m not addicted to my screen. I read.

(I haven’t read in weeks. if i could write this in teeny tiny print i would.)

I know a little about technology.

(i know less than a cupful of the ocean, and I get by on graphic directions only.)

I’m not that good at a lot of things.

(it is 100% true that I am not good at things I do not care about. truly. but what I DO care about? rockstar.)

I don’t know what I’m doing.

(yes, yes I do. I just don’t trust my instincts. But I’m still doing the things. and worrying about it as it happens.)

I’m going to join a gym.

duh.

 

What lies are you believing lately?