Humanity

Typing it out

0504191041cwhen you work from home and spend most of the hours of the day by yourself…. hmm…

i’m a strong introvert and really like it, most of the time.

and then there are the problems.

when i actually have a mental tussle going on (or god forbid, emotional) being in isolation is not necessarily the best thing, because i just go round and round and round. telling myself to slow down or ‘breathe’ isn’t really effective and i don’t seem to have the mental/physical connection that gets me out to take a walk or some other sort of production of endorphin answers.

sigh.

the pattern of life right now is such. 5 days a week of parenting from 3-10 pm. (plus mornings, but aye..thats a slowmo/fast forward thing on schooldays) … weekends with such an amazing plethora of sexual satisfactions, i really can’t even talk about it without changing the rating of the site.  back to the m-f.

one weekend a month i have the kids and there is no sex to be had that weekend.

i’ve still got my hours here during the day but i am feeling the strange, clunky feeling of ritual/repetition that i don’t like.  and i’m not really sure what to make of it really.

am i missing life ‘before beau’? when my weekends to myself were filled with unscheduled time, and television bingeing and the occasional chinese food box? when i thought of something and just did it? when i went to all the games?

hm.

is it the resistance to ritual? to repetition?  fear of what this particular repetition and ritual might mean? is that phase of my life actually over? have i said the right phrases to let it go? am i being a complete idiot? (that, right there, is resistance, in form of self-deprecation and self-mutilation, when taken deeper) …

am i more rebel than obliger after all?  i can’t imagine that. but man, i feel the pull of the earth and the gandalf  spin into  ‘i shall not be moved’.

and thats a big fucking spin. and watch out. because if there is one single object in the slowly spinning world refusing the move, the whole thing crashes and burns. so hang on.

geeks know ‘resistance is futile’ but goddamnit, i am in deep.

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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…

Humanity

Discovery of self-worth. Eureka?

SO my hatred of The Magicians has passed. I mean, how can i actually ‘hate’ anything make-believe? its just silly speak and i’m moving on . . . see? the meds are with me.

cop-outs are everywhere.

and self-deprecation is the tool of the TRUE GODS AND GODDESSES… if only we weren’t so good at deflection, you’d be blinded.

(read that one slowly.)

and no, i haven’t lost my grip on humility.  not even momentarily, sadly. (had to look up how to spell Eureka, for fucksake)

i do have moments when i can say good things about myself, i mean, i do.  and i do thank my ex for that, because i have real moments of self-value that come simply from being taken for granted, and its really powerful to really deeply feel how much you matter to the world you’ve created.  the kids do the same for me. … when i have to demand that they speak to me a certain way, or that they ask for things rather than demand…its respect, and i deserve it… 0402192020a little bits and bobs…

took me awhile.

but also, last night, i actually WENT to the gym i signed up for. and i’m proud as anything that i made it.  because i was anxious about it for days.  nervous about what people would think, how weak i would look, how sweaty and fat i would be… all irrational, to a large degree.  its been awhile since i was fit, and i’m sad and a little embarassed by it. but i know i can get it back, i just have to put in the time, again, and make sure i do it for myself. utterly only? … which is nearly impossible for me. i definitely work better when i think there is some benefit that is broader than just myself.  in this case? kids… want to stay strong and fit as a role model of strong fit woman for the kids…

but then it makes you think about the things you do overcome… and big and little and what pride you have in accomplishing things…

i’m running my household, i am truly the head of the household. always was, but didn’t know.

i’m figuring out how to value the simple way i move in the world.  i’m not spending tons of time chastising myself for my hit and run socializing.  i just get all frazzled after 15 minutes and have to run away. thats it… its not a huge statement about what an asshole loser i am.

i do wish i could spend more time, sometimes, but listening is just so damn hard, 15 minutes is about my limit. and i love people, even if they don’t know i do.

and thats another thing i value about myself.  i love people, even if they don’t know i do. how cool is that?

anyhow. its a beginning. make your own lists, babes.

Humanity

i should really title you. . .

tell me about this, someone please?

so, i read this book awhile back and it made me mad. it made me so mad. it moved slowly, i hated (detested) the characters, and nothing ever happened in it that made me feel better about it. and i read all the way to the end wanting something good to be there. but no.

then they made a tv show of it. and i said, HAIL NO. and then people kept reccomending it to me and then someone said it was way better than the book and then i had another night of being at loose ends and watching tv to numb myself.

so i tried it. Guess what?

HATED IT. DETEST THE CHARACTERS. HATE IT.

okay,so there are several things going on here, to start before we even get into what makes me so full of rage at this show.

  1. Why am i so goddamn hopeful? it must have reached prescribable levels by now.  what the hell is this pollyanna crap? why did i read the whole book? why did i try the show? why was i so unhappy for so many days but woke up hopeful each day at some point and stayed married?
  2. There is magic in this show. and they never use it for delight. its always for some personal gain or to trick someone or to hurt someone else and if there is delight, it is incidental…there is no thrill and exhileration and no harry fucking potter and I WANT TO KNOW WHY THEY ARE WASTING IT!
  3. There is a lot of privilege in the show. A lot. Its a class thing, i’m sure the show producers mixed up color and culture as best they could (still lame) but its money here. Kids who smoke and drink all day like they are not kids, but old drunks and country club ladies. . they think they rebel but end up just like the parents they despise.  Too much Breakfast Club Claire.  these characters hold no humor for me, only rage. The privilege of wasting your life. THE WASTE! OH MY GOD, THE WASTE!!sigh.  the show? The Magicians.

 

if you like it, could you please tell me why? and stop me from trying to watch it again? because of the pervasive hope that i’m wrong thing?

please?

 

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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