Humanity

draft, freewrite? what-have-you at the car repair…

i’m at the car repair place fixing a recalled item. its going to be about two hours and I’ve got to make my own prompt for writing:  How do you access what the *Lionness* wants you to? (this is a reference to the archetype I’m embodying these days)

all my readings have been telling me to look at my joy, to just be in the JOY. and i’m like, yeah, gimme another blanket and let me settle down further into my bog.

I’ve stopped taking my antidepressant and I think it is good but am struggling a lot with how to support my system between 4 and bedtime. I have so little time with them, and then i’m a wreck.  it doesn’t seem like a fair deal .

boys here in what look like suits until you look down at their feet and see their shoe-style.

and distraction aside, I think that guided meditations are the way to go for me, and i’m still not doing that. I found, or my Lionness found, me that way. in my ability to sink into my own body and my own imaginative base, which I have, and how I have seemed to survive this past few decades. which is still an amazing thing to say. decades have passed.

what I mean, in my huddle, in my mess of blankets on the couch with my fears around me like infinity scarves gone wrong, is that I am moving, but not moving at the same time. in two ways.  my lists are getting crossed off, i’m handling things. i’m applying myself, i’m in the fall cleanup, and i’m not. i’m not any of that. and it happens during and around all of the same actions.

I get interrupted to be frightened by the car repair man that I need a timing belt replacement. I am here to fulfill a recall.  happily I remember that I have a new engine in there, ask me that fucking story. no, don’t.  so I don’t need no stinking timing belt. thank you very much.  nobody is getting any of my money today, and hopefully that includes the vending machine I am staring at, which has chips AND candy.  bastards.

what I mean, in my need to keep writing, to give myself some sort of structure in the day, is to give myself more of a foothold into understanding myself.  there is a lot that I get, dig? but this whole HERMIT thing?  its not making me feel like I can take care of my kids independently, and that’s a pretty damn big deal. I say.

and what I mean, really, is that I know I can take care of my kids, I know I can. I don’t even doubt it for a second. Don’t make me fuck you up.

but I worry about the money and the living on alimony/childsupport mix.  still and always. I am not good with dependence. Sunlight on Houseplants UnwifedMotherExpletive

which brings another fear in the LM category . (Loveliest Man) What if I do fall in deep love with him? like dependent love? wherein I need him?  Isn’t that the death knell ? isn’t it? why do people do these things? LM, be not afraid. also, don’t comment. I can’t handle it.

And herein lies the end of the freewrite.  Apologies? I don’t know. But here I am, trying to give myself a foothold that I am sure of… its always good to have one foot on the ground, yeah?

*(i’m learning a lot about archetypes lately, and for me, Lionness has shown up, and that sort of matches up with Queen archetype, and also Mother, and also Warrior, so there.)

 

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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

current mood: crackhead

Sitting in the Car- UnwifedMotherExpletivei’m sitting in my living room currently with three kids around me, all plugged into various screens, even the six year old. and i am typing, while watching Airplane.  I had them all in it with me, for about six minutes.

There are 100 things i love about this movie.

and i’m sitting on the dog’s bed*, so he is lying next to me licking my foot until i scream and get the hell out of his space.

*dog’s bed being a completely original way of saying beanbag chair, intended for humans.

God Bless Kareem Abdul-Jabar. I mean, Roger Murdock.

and then, Ethel Merman.

I’m smitten with the casual cruelty and egalitarian roasting. no one is safe. and yet, it manages to not be aggressive. how does it do that? and, if i weren’t a white girl from the country, would i still think this? i mean, its certainly offensive. but is it?

part of what made me write today was a thought that flashed through my brain while watching Elaine dance to Staying Alive. ‘I wish i was taller’.

Ok now. So, I am 45 years old. My last growth spurt was a while ago. I don’t need to be anything other than I am. ever. right?

As part of the crackhead mood i”ve been in for the past week, I’ve lost all my ground. And, a lovely friend (@hannahmarcotti) said it today, in terms of my doubt, that doubt is really an inability to be present.

and its doubt that is making me lose my ground. doubt in my own instincts, not knowing the difference between fears based on baggage and fears based on intuition, just the wild uncertainty of everything.

Gobacken Sidonna.

I’m laughing out loud, all by myself because a spear just hit a map in the background. thank you very much.

I love the utter ridiculousness of it.

and i’m whacked. doubting myself like crazy pants, and knowing that intuition is a tough one for me, and i relate it to my belief systems in marriage. . .  and i’ve got to figure out what i’m going to do with all my baggage, because i’d like to walk with a slightly lighter step.

and when one decides to look directly at a problem like this: what does it look like?

I’m going to start with some byron katie work.  I’m familiar with this process as i’ve been through it with Chakra Carol in years past.

its a thought re-conditioning sort of thing. i’m taking the kids to the Cape on Monday and I’m going to force myself to get up early and write in the mornings, and i’m dealing with this shit like throwing bricks. obvious and hard.

i am pretty damn sure its just a step in the road, but fuck it.

love you.

-uwmf

 

 

 

Humanity

kablooey–pudding brain

Nothing is wrong.  I’m just a major sufferer of summer brain, and thats the truth, ruth. Even when i have the time, i rarely get to writing. and its a real truth also, that i’ve had a lot of time this summer without kids, and i haven’t liked it, and I’ve watched too much tv in an attempt to avoid the self-identity issues that come with the removal of the kids.  And I want them to spend time with their father, i do. in fact, i make it so, all the time. but still. I’ve been feeling stuck in chocolate pudding, which at first few bites is the most delicious thing in the world, and then .  on bite 5 you begin to wonder about that slight metallic taste, though you keep eating…

and then its gone, and you know you would eat more if it were there, and you’ve lost all interest in it, and wonder about your own ability to monitor yourself as an adult. you do. i know you do. i can’t be the only one.

Its August something. And I’ve paid for this year’s bus transportation, and have been just been notified of soccer tryouts. Its winding down, or up, as you see it. Summer, while working from home, and adding in a part time job, makes me feel all stuck. in that pudding, you see? hence, hithertofore, the no-writing.

and now you can see how much you’ve benefited from my absence.

I’m laughing like a crazy head pudding eater.

Black and Yellow Stripes Pudding Brain Unwifedmotherexpletive

 

 

Humanity

cool stuff i’ve written.

i’ve written. swear to god, or whatever you think IT is….

so here: proof.

  • unpacking humility.  (oof. is that a book title or what? i mean, not mine, but someone’s.)
  • odd numbers are trees.
  • bubbles of nuclear family: do you incorporate, or do you bounce?
  • when what you desire is immersion and you fear it to paralysis.
  • i’d rather have empty walls and a richly vibrant lady by the fire than a beautifully ornate caravan with an empty shell of me.
  • i exist in dapple today.

these are nice bits and bobs. my oldest graduates from middle school today and its lovely, and i am feeling my age.  i hadn’t totally realized i was a middle-aged-woman, until i saw myself next to him at a pre-semi-formal and there it was.  but whatever. i can write. so there.

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