Humanity

COVID MY ASS

Yesterday Sucked.

I didn’t want to get out of bed. I had a headache and I wasn’t ever nice, all day. It was a little grey out, and rained in the morning. The kids watched screens for most of the day. I made muffins from a box kit. watched some Miss Fisher. Yelled about school work. Yelled at the LM, with legit disappointment in myself and in him.  Got them all outside for a hot second in the afternoon, onto the trampoline as a group. That was the only feel-good moment of an entire day.  The headache never left, was probably the inadequacy of acetaminophen against allergies.

TODAY IS A NEW DAY, again.

i guess, that one of the things learned is that they DO keep arriving, these new days. I, evidently need the reminder that the days just keep coming.  As my brain falters, and my steps stutter, there is always a new morning.

One of the things I hated most about my ex was his ability to wake up in the morning, fresh as a daisy.  No matter what had happened the night before, each morning he was FRESH AND UNSCARRED.  ( i will never discount the scarring it caused ME, mind you, to have to beg for acknowledgement all of those days…it was almost as if i was living a completely parallel experience, more evidence that i was alone in all of that, so definitely alone…) But still, it was a skill… think of how that must be, to wake up like that?! and now…

TODAY IS A NEW DAY, again.

the kids are resilient.  i know, we all keep saying that.  Resilient doesn’t mean happy or unhappy, anxious or calm, it just means Survival.  The kids are surviving, as am I.  Because we are so lucky to be together, to have the means, to have a yard, to have electricity, to have me being an educated in education person, with a ton of calmness and ability to provide all the bits and pieces to get them all through this… as I get myself through this too.

*regular things:

I did get my hearing checked, by a real ear dr., and got meds and relief and hearing. SO YAY. now i can hear all the yelling.

I’m cooking an awful lot, which is necessary, obviously, but LM is magically helpful. and, truth? i’m not bad at it.

i’ve got an entire zombie-fighting arsenal of resources at my disposal, and they are all inside my body, heart, brain … isn’t that fucking astonishing?

 

LOVE TO YOU, in your zombie-fighting.

UWMOFO

 

 

Humanity

My 7-year-old plays Fortnite now.

and holy shit guys.

what’re you up to now that the world has shut down?

in truth, so far, about once a week I have a complete sobbing meltdown. the fear, the anxiety, the worry for the kids, for LM, for my mom and for everysingleperson.

LM is here, as he has severely compromised lungs and my place is best for not being full of germshare.

my kids dad doesn’t believe in the benefits of social isolation, so gave them to friends for a sleepover a little over a week ago.  he does not have much respect for my being an informed adult and seems to think i am a hysteric who gets her news from gossip.

so i am doing all that i can when i can and cursing his soul.  i hope he feels it. and yes, i am a little kidding, and some of me is not kidding at all.

and then there is hope. because, as hard as it is for me to believe, beneath all the layers of fear, anxiety, cynicism, despair, niggling worries, fear of schooling my children and deep betrayal lies a golden molten core of beauty and brilliant LIGHT that, evidently, cannot be dimmed.

and so she SHINES.

sometimes. when the night is dark and dreary, she flashes.  and i’m seeking her out, and holding hands, and

SEEKING HER OUT.

and i think it is saving me, and so there is that.

Carrots Unwifedmotherexpletive

and i’m hoping to re-enter this world here more often. but lets not hold our breaths.

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

 

 

 

Divorce, Humanity

write as defiance. DEFIANCE.

so, the ex contacts me to tell me he just read the blog.  and thinks its about him.  I’ve told him enough times not to read it. that nothing, even if he is in it, is about him.  all me, all the time.  And everytime he tells me he has read it, I feel like I need to go stand in the darkest corner of the house and never write again. and sometimes I have stopped, for ages.

so today, as a mark of noticing the dropped shoulders that I got from yelling alone in my kitchen?

I write. As an act of defiance, i write, however small a piece… because he got enough out of me already, and he can’t have anything else.

and i’m not being ‘too dramatic’, or ‘angry’, i’m just showing you how I save myself these days.

the sun is bright. and i’m still allright.

Author's face UnwifedMother Expletive