Humanity

the world is scary. its not the poor people.

i’m not scared of the poor and desparate people of the world. i’m not.

the indifferent wealthy? oh yeah, those people are terrifying.

its not the clueless, befuddled middle class, or the angry American lower class, or the startled and confused college-educated women who voted for Trump… its those pesky people that I’ve only seen from afar.

the people who could buy and sell me. and know it. kind of, because it would sort of be ‘beneath them’ to deal with a little person like me.

its not the poor people who are trying to get into this country to make a better life, who travel hundreds and maybe thousands of miles with their children to pick strawberries for 10 hours a day.

its the guy at the top, willing to close factories because the profit goes from 10 billion to 8 billion. that particular guy happens to be a woman. she made 22 million, personally, that year.

just saying. lets put the fear where it belongs. lets be scared and be angry and direct it all in the right direction. there’s no way I can make this about me, and fool myself that ‘as long as I’m allright, it can keep going on this way…’ because that day has passed.

don’t you think?

Humanity

Re-arriving

I’m slowly coming back into the world.  I’m working each day and making absurd money in small bits of time. Its not enough bits yet, but this morning I made $100 in twenty minutes. So that math? You dig? shoot. And i’m not even a hooker.

I’m coming back into my intellect, with a little removal from the hectic of childcare and whatnots.  I’m listening to a workshop that a woman named Alison Armstrong gave, on Audible. Its the first time I’ve spent so much time listening to something. Her website is called UnderstandMen, which cracks me the hell up.   I have the fancy earphones which STRONGLY resemble earmuffs, so I walk around in my slippers on purpose so I can feel like some kind of Nordic Lodge Bunny. (that’s a thing, right?)

I’ve even felt my spirit stirring, as I tend my home in the tiniest of ways, here and there, attending to space in a seasonal transition.  Tending, without rush, with a feeling of satisfaction at tiny change upon tiny change. And there is the light here. And I have a new painting on the wall that Jessica Kinsella painted, and its astonishing. I’ll try and photo it when the light is right. Maybe I’ll get it in here.

Today is my sister’s birthday. It is a fantastic day to be alive, all the more so because of a day we all remember for something else.  It is a fantastic day to be alive.

 

Thank you, Shannon.

My heart is trying its damnedest to stir to full beat. My intellect and fear-based life experiences are getting in my way. But I’m trying to understand myself, and be gracious to myself, at least, more often than not. and, LM seems to be a very patient man. I’m trying so hard to allow myself to have faith in another person. Its way trickier than I thought it would be.

Jessica Kinsella painting, detail. Unwifedmotherexpletive
my photo does not do it justice. It glows. It is illuminated in color.

 

Humanity

school is in session.

whoo. school started four days ago. i’ve had a much harder time with it than expected. all the self-doubt and shifting identity landed at once with the introduction of so much time. I work, but barely scrape enough to make up for the change in alimony that happened a year ago.  The farmstand parttime has helped a bunch too. it is good, i guess, as i’m still able to afford stuff, and pay for the new health insurance payment that i’ve got. kids get state aid but none for me, as alimony counts as income.  money means house security and all that. and with the kids gone it all settles in and i’d be better off alone as i’m in this space of lack and fear about my own inability to earn enough money to be independent. well, it sure doesn’t help that i’m in a house too big for my britches and i’m deeply in love with it.

all that is really fucking boring for me too, believe that. like, hellaciously so.

I’ve got cold toes today, the first authentically chilly morning of the season. and its thrilling, and my heart hurts with all the things my inner critic is saying about my ability to take care of things.

and there is this:

all the sages say:  focus on what is. be present, mindful of reality vs expectation or judgement.

shit man. if i’m living minute to minute, how do i assess plans for the future? how do i make plans at all?

i’m a 9 enneagram. you know what that is? it means i’m predisposed to avoid conflict and sometimes i get so lost in all the possible perspectives on an issue that i don’t know what my own opinion, need or want is. that makes me sometimes unknowable, i think.

so, cold. unknowable.

welcome to it, biotches.

hee hee. – uwmf

Hot Peppers School is in Session UnwifedMotherexpletive

Humanity

Two Distinct Ideas. glommed together.

  1. I’ve been having bad dreams lately. the kind where you wake up and shake your head and feel anxious in your heart and go back to sleep and end up in exactly the same place.
    dream one: having an old argument with an old argue-partner, in which i am reminded how easy it is to gaslight me, which has many layers in it. his completely unacceptable behaviors were justified to me, and I struggled (again) to absorb the justifications as valid.
    dream two: really big house party (mine) in which there are long and lithe people in black and white and beauty and dancing and a gorgeous house that i really would love…and I don’t know anyone and I’m waiting for someone to arrive that i can talk to. the only person who does is an old lover that I’m embarrassed to explain this all to. I spend the dream avoiding and seeking his presence.  and feeling really isolated whilst surrounded by people. I do dance though.

There is a full moon, i am full of premenstrual hormonal shift. I never, ever, remember dreams. I have a new love who is challenging me in many core ways and I am fighting HARD the notion that I can rely on someone else.  HARD.  if i rely on someone again, i will be crushed and therein lose my ability to do this all by myself like i am.  I’m the only thing that is permanent here.

this is fairly distressing to type as well as to feel.

2. The kitchen is a goddamned mess. I need the kids to be back in school.  There is too much screen time and I’m missing them while they are having such fun times with their dad.  It is too much sometimes, and I”m overloaded by the disparities between the two and my rational brain really does argue for my value but ouch, sometimes. guess what? i do not own a boat or have the ‘best’, or buy my kids ipads because they win a dare.  i just can’t. and so i feel like a loser sometimes and right now the kitchen just feels too big to even tackle. i’ll do one corner of it today before all pandemonium of my work shift/drive kid to babysitting grandmother sets in. probably. or maybe i’ll just cry in the corner. hello moon. and hormones, hello.

aren’t you glad you stopped in?  hee hee. ugh.

and so, a brilliantly beautiful photo to round it out:

Carrots in a Yellow Bin UnwifedMotherExpletive

Humanity

A-E. a litany for summer.

I hate to start a post with i’m sorry but here it is. its summer, and i’m sorry.

A.  i’m a sorry hot mess.

but I found an AC with LM for fifty dollars that is cooling off my entire house. and i’ve never had so much AC in my life, ever. i’ve been blowing a fuse daily and now the AC is blowing a fuse daily. i’m not sure what that means. but I should google it. right? i’m definitely willing to accept travelling into the basement as a daily exchange for cool air.

B. I can’t really handle no routine.

but i’m not willing to fight in the heat to keep one, so there is that. and outside forces like the kids having a father who lives in town and friends and such, keep activities still happening, some days. sometimes. its too hot, I just don’t care.

C. i’m a sorry, hot mess.

c1. LM is still the Loveliest Man. and that is that, but having someone who wants to be a partner and actively pursues partner-y things is giving me a lot of therapy issues. like, why did I never have this before? was married for 14 years. it makes me want to cry because I think I should go back and fix it with my younger self.  she makes me so sad.      c2. he says i’m his best friend. why do I find it inconceivable that a man could be a real friend? (there’s some issues in me that are around dark corners.) why was I married to someone for 14 years who never felt like my friend? deep wells of sadness.

D. its the beginning of July. I’m not sure I’ll make it through August.

reference all of the above. knowing that the AC in the house will change things, and maybe I will survive after all. maybe.

E. I have a job outside of the house.

I really like it but it is completely not AC. I mean, i’m totally outside, though in shade. but I love it. I sell produce. Its dreamy. Really. Its only 10 hours a week with like 14 hours of child care wrangling each week, but still. a job. motion. rumbles in the farmstand jungles.

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