I always tell them to remember, that while it's beautiful and wonderful to be a princess, those heroic and brave princes need rescued just as often...more, in some respects.
Focus on being your best you.
Remember to give what you would have given to you, regardless of whether or not it is.
Daughter's boyfriend can't decide if he's "going" Christian or not. In the first place, just what the hell does that mean? Really? Does it mean believing? Does it mean going to church? Does it mean living, by strict code and doctrine, some chosen religious dogma? Does it mean all of the above? Know what it seems to mean to alot of the people that I know? It appears to mean that they will use IT as a shield behind which to hide while they spew hate and intolerance of gays, social help, other religions and those calling for moderation in most forms. Meanwhile, let's drink to excess, use any form of drug we can get our hands on, have sex with anything that will stay still long enough regardless of our personal relationship status, lie, hide, cheat, steal and run our mouth 24/7. k. Done for the moment. Maybe should have warned you that it was a rant. Wait. Why? If you aren't that kind of person, you know it's true. If you are, here's a mirror. Don't like it? Change it. Back to work.
This note, written by and given to me by my younger daughter on the night my world crashed.
She was 7.
I had locked myself in a spare room and was on the phone with Crisis Hotline. She called through that door to me and I told her, in as calm a voice as I could create, that Mommy needed a little timeout, and that I would be out soon.
I felt no assurance whatsoever that there was any truth or wisdom to that, but just that thought alone and the discussion with the disembodied voice on the other end, was enough for them to tell me that I was too rational to be insane and that I should talk with my husband about a visit to the ER if I felt unable to manage the depression through the night.
Sobbing, I thanked the voice, hung up...and stared at the gaping blackness I was being swallowed by.
I was far from ok. I couldn't remember one single aspect of what "okay" was, so I knew I was nowhere close.
Sitting, contemplating what to do next, a small sound at the door caught my ear, and as I watched, a slip of paper appeared from underneath it, pushed into the room. I heard a brush against the door, saw the gap filled in a section and heard breathing.
My girl.
I held on to this slip of paper for 2 days, physically. And I've had it since. 9 yrs now.
Suicide had already been decided against...I might die from this, I remember thinking, but it wouldn't be by my hand.
I had no idea of how I was going to keep going, but I was going to keep going somehow, and figure out again what OK meant.
I'm cleaning out spots in the house to get it ready to sell...and found it in it's safe place.
(Ps...I had a friend who worked for a pharmaceutical company, and we had many notepads with such on them. I don't know what the med is, but it wasn't one I used)
That's really what this year has been, for me. The past several years, I've felt it building, but this year I've pulled back the curtains on so many different secrets. Not in large degree, by any means. And only a little here, or a little there to any real people...and only particular ones. In fact, as I think about it, only 3. 2.5, maybe. I live my life honestly. For a few people, I tell them that I will never lie to them. About anything. Not even myself. No matter how hard it is for me. I will never choose to hide the truth, not about anything important, not to anyone. But this... THAT...only a small handful of people have been offered that. Only those 3. And I doubt that any understand what it really means. Well...one does. And she knows everything. It's still a very unsettling thing for me. Like most of these "secrets" do, just by their nature, there is a central core of shame attached. It's what creates the shadows, creates the secret and prolongs the hiding, protecting our most vulnerable places. The journey, for me, has definitely not been an easy one. I've avoided this particular post, just the frank discussion of this choice to expose myself, for almost a year. And to be very honest, which is the point here, in this blog of life and thought and passage, and this entry in particular, I'm swallowing panic. Fighting a shock reaction. My arms are weak, my lips are tingling and I feel quite sick. I know that sounds dramatic, I don't mean for it to. It's simple fact. It's been this way, which each post of this type. I post, I revert it to draft. I think. I re post. I pull it. I beat myself up over my cowardice, I cry. I put my headphones in, music up, beat the shit out of the punching bag, come up and dare myself to post again. I do. I yank it again. What's the big deal, some say. I hear you. And...I don't know how to answer that. Fear. Of judgement. Of being seen as weak. Damaged. Unworthy. Wrong. I know. It's often said, and I myself do generally believe it, that we believe that we are seen by others the way that we see them. We feel judged according to how we judge. That is absolutely valid in many instances. Not here. Not in these types of situations. Not for me, at any rate. I've talked with many people, mostly young people, about self-harm, sexual abuse, suicide, depression, panic, eating disorders...I rarely need to do any explaining beyond the few key words that we of those shadows know well. It's a code, of sorts. I don't ask them for details. They don't press me for proof. We know. And in those vital contact points, we connect, we share, we understand...we hold, we release, we gather, and most importantly, we know that we are not alone. There is no judgement. There is no pity. There are tears, empathetic pain, spread, diminished in that moment, a space of peace and rest while another carries our burden, for just that instant. We meet everywhere. The signs of different things are obvious. Some things are more open to acknowledgment. Small conversation, these random encounters...a checking in with a remote counselor, the timing of which always reaffirms my belief that coincidence is a myth. I'm no savior. I'm just another flawed, scarred human. But I've gone beyond survival, in many respects. These situations, these are easy now. We know that we are battling the same demons, of our own judgements on ourselves. Because, as I type these words and work through these thoughts, that's really what it is. The self blame, the harshest critics of our own selves, we perpetuate the cycle. Why? I don't know. There are many theories. I could rattle off at least 8 right now, but it makes me feel weary just thinking of them. Because it's known. Because in the knowing, it's safe. Because if we begin to accept, it might be seen by others and not accepted...easier to stay hidden than risk it. The top 3, I believe. The others are of the ilk that we've all heard...and it's all true. Don't tell, they won't believe the truth. They'll believe you made it happen. They'll say that you're over dramatic. They'll think you're sick and need locked away, etc etc etc. Rabbit trail. Why am I doing this? I'm 49 yrs old. It's the last step, for me, in removing the victim's skin from my soul. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. I feel weak in my efforts to be strong and sick in the face of my personal call to courage. I've forgiven those outside of myself...and forgiven me, as well. I've come to accept that the past is only that, the past. It's a well of experience that I can use to bless and help others. It can't hurt me anymore, except in the hiding...in the constant fear of being seen and being rejected as all those things mentioned above. Rejected as damaged. Rejected as unworthy of anything good and lovely. Damaged? Certainly. Aren't we all? Worthy of life? Of love? Of joy? Of course. Aren't we all? What I've learned is that the people who truly matter in our lives, they know we're broken. They see the scars, the ugly bits. But to them, those parts aren't ugly. Or broken. They are simply a part of us. I know this is what they see, those that do know, because that is how I see others. Unless there is intentional cruelty, then I'm as far away as the earth will allow me to be. Just sayin. I see your scars. I see more than that. I hear them, and gift or curse, I feel them. And I love you, regardless. I accept you. Fully. Good/bad, as you may see yourself...I see beautiful. So. Why can't I believe, why can't I trust, that others will see me in that way, as I see them? Perhaps it comes down to those feelings of worth. I value...but do not expect to be valued. Not if the "truth" is known. A note. This is a large therapy session for me, and I do realize that I am contradicting points here. This is not unnoticed by me. I've been in enough therapy sessions, good ones, to know that this is often how it goes...rattle and find the inconsistencies. Those are your holes. So, while I say that the people in our lives that truly matter will look beyond, the fact of that statement is that without disclosure and the risk of them not understanding, there is no other way of learning that they will understand. And so you try, a little here, a little there...slowly, bit by bit...to open your soul to them. To let them see, if they choose. Hello, limb. Shall we climb out on your skinny little branch and sit there for awhile? Also...I stated that I forgive...yet as I am working through this, feelings of anger are in me over the programmed lies that replay and need constant unlooping. In all of my broken bits, that truly are not broken anymore, can you accept me? If you knew, could you love me? Can you forgive me the pain of my past? Forgive me my scars? Can you recognize the value in the lessons that I have gleaned from these things, can you see that I am who I am because of what has happened? I ask this with no trace of arrogance. I ask, feeling small. Very small. Frightened. Courage is not the absence of fear, but action in the face of it.
There is a small frog outside my window, on this late December night. Plucky little bugger. Now that...that is courage. Would that I had what that small creature has. Perhaps I do. So, this is a bit of a mess, I think. But I am going to post it and leave it here for the rest of the night. We'll see what happens in the morning.
I may not know what the road ahead looks like,
I may not know what's around the bend.
I only know forward is the way I must go
And travel on til I reach the end.
~me, and every other person who's ever been in this position.
It's a time of end and begin, that strange limbo where we all sit for a moment while doubt, fear, insecurity all whirl their winds around us...
In this time is when we make our final choice to either hold or proceed.
For me, the time of holding is done. Let the doubts whirl. Let the insecurity cry it's song. My path is set and forward on I will go.
To leave this town, that is such a stranger to me...
To move into that next phase of living.
To be brave.
To follow my heart, with my head as my guide.
"All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.”
-JRR Tolkien
Shake up the happiness Wake up the happiness Shake up the happiness It's Christmas time
There's a story that I was told And I wanna tell the world before I get too old And don't remember it so let's December it And reassemble it, oh yeah
Once upon a time in a town like this A little girl made a great big wish To fill the world full of happiness And be on Santa's magic list
Shake it up Shake up the happiness Wake it up Wake up the happiness Come on y'all It's Christmas time
Shake it up Shake up the happiness Wake it up Wake up the happiness Come on y'all It's Christmas time
Ho-ho-ho ho-ho-ho It's Christmas time
At the same time miles away A little boy made a wish that day That the world would be OK And Santa Claus would hear him say: I got dreams and I got love I got my feet on the ground And family above Can you send some happiness With my best to the rest of the people Of the East and the West and Maybe every once in a while Give my Grandma a reason to smile 'Tis the season of smile It's cold but we'll be freezing in style Let me meet a girl one day That wants to spread some love this way We can let our souls run free and She can open some happiness with me
Shake it up Shake up the happiness Wake it up Wake up the happiness Come on y'all It's Christmas time
Shake it up Shake up the happiness Wake it up Wake up the happiness Come on y'all It's Christmas time
I know you're out there I hear your reindeer I see the snow where Your boots have been I'm gonna show them So they will know then Their love will grow When they believe again.
Shake it up Shake up the happiness Wake it up Wake up the happiness Come on y'all It's Christmas time
Night, with dawn close by
Wrapped in my blanket
Thoughts
Not here
Christmas Day,
It doesn't feel it.
Still, it's ok.
I've always said
It's best not to need...
To want.
I still feel that.
But in the want
I find a feeling of need begin
Confuses me
It takes so little
For me to smile
It takes almost nothing
For a light to glow
I can't hide it from my friends,
My girls.
Smile, it shows and they know.
It's just there.
That for a moment, in that moment,
They know what happy feels like
Radiating out of me
I can't stop it
I can't help it
Still so very surprised by it.
And afraid.
Tears and smiles together,
I only accept it as it is for me.
To feel that good inside
For that instant
Is worth so much.
I don't expect a thing
I don't expect it to be the same.
Broken hearts
Line the path behind
And I don't know why it would be
Any different for you now.
I only know
What I know
And what I know
Is this...
It takes so little
For me to smile.
Do I leave this post
Or hide it
Like the rest...
I can't hide that smile anymore.
That
Is what
I know.
I should probably title this, Day Before Christmas 2013. I should, perhaps, even forgo writing anything at all and simply down this Kahlua coffee...and then another. Or better yet, maybe i should simply go to bed and call it all a draw. Except that it isn't. And I can't. Not just yet. This day blindsided me in many ways. I'm not even going to go into what normally, or rather traditionally, happens on this day for us. Doesn't matter. Today. Went to bed late, working on things. Got up a bit late, hearing the garbage truck in the alley. I am completely disoriented as far as what day of the week it is. For instance, today is, right now, actually Wednesday. To me, it feels like a Monday. I don't know why. Saturday was definitely a Saturday, last day of the bakery. Then Sunday was a Saturday. Monday was most definitely a Sunday and Tuesday, today, felt like a Sunday as well. Totally screwy. Anyway, heard it out there, kinda half heartedly got up to go drag the can out, just in case I hadn't missed it. I hadn't. I have the most awesome garbage guy. I almost NEVER miss getting stuff out to the curb. But there have been a few times, and bless him, he comes up to the house to get the damn things. The yard can had been hauled out and dumped, and the recycling can as well. I needed to get the regular garbage one out and did. That was neat. He's a nice man. Anyway. Came in, did the morning junk, woke up younger daughter. She needed to get something from the store, I needed some groceries and we were too tired last night to finish. Got ready, got out. Had a great time, getting along well even with her usual introvert-in-public grump fest going on, one more stop to make...we park, she turns to me and says "So. I have a proposition for you..." Great. We're out of the car and she tells me that she's talking to Sarah. Sarah? Really? Sarah of the "Emma got me into heroin, she's a dealer, her mom deals, they forced me, Em got hauled into the school office, had to defend herself, rumors all over the town, still beating them down" Sarah? That's pretty much what I asked, as far as clarification. Yeah. That Sarah. Needless to say, I stood there with my jaw on the ground. Went ice cold. Then flaming hot. Then I asked the horrendous question of "what the fuck for?". Daughter chose that moment to realize that her method of approach and timing had probably been severely miscalculated and went, as she always does, on the offense. Bad move. Very. Bad. Move. Initially, it was fine. Kind of. I just stared, very VERY loudly at her, and then walked away. I walked fast. Hard. Headed for our destination, with a deep knowledge that I needed to not be in a position to say a single thing to any living soul. We got where we needed to be, did what we needed to do, and then she chose to fling "you are behaving badly" at me. What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Just. Say. To. Me? ??? Be quiet, kid. Very, very quiet. I am angry, I am dealing with incredibly strong emotions and you had better not even try that tact with me. Fair warning. Nope. She's a bright kid, but at times like this, not very smart. I looked at her, as she's yammering at me, and told her to be quiet. To back off. That I needed time to even get my head wrapped around the idea of that creature being in contact with anyone again. Diagnosed multiple personality disorder heroin and meth addicted freak zone is what that kid Sarah is, in my mind. I didn't say it. But I wanted to. There are a few things that should not ever happen with me. One: Do not EVER consider it a good idea to break news to me of that nature in public. The first time that happened to me was when my former spouse took me with him to sign for this house that I live in now. It was supposed to be for his parents, I had learned the night before, and we had to sign. Much discussion. Go for the signing, turns out that I am there to sign a Quit Claim. Person hands me that, I recognize it, read it, put down the pen and look at him. Person asks me if I have questions, I answer in the affirmative, tell them that my questions are not for them, request that they leave the room and look at him. And just look at him some more. At last I ask him if that was how he was going to let me know that we were getting a divorce? Don't make a scene, he says. I'm not. I'm quietly asking for information necessary before I sign an legal document. He refuses to answer, I already know. I sign it. I get up, ask the person if there's anything else I need to sign, they say no, and I leave. Walk out the door, down the street. Call a cab. And leave. No scene. No yelling. Polite, very calm. No tears. Later that night, after the berating over my bad behavior, I ask very pointed, detailed questions, very calmly and quietly. After awhile, the answers come. As texts. On my phone. The details of the ending of more than half my life came to me over text. That's the second thing. Do not ever do shit to me over text. Fucking balls-less. I am more than reasonable. But you'd better allow me the time and space to process, with dignity and respect. Start pushing or try to bully me into feeling badly because I'm not falling into line, shit will be in your face. So, a lovely fight was thrown in my face. I've said it before. I mean it. I will not fight. I will ask direct questions, and I will repeat them until they are answered. Then I will move on to the next step. Yell at me, that's your problem. I will continue to ask in that cold and "Creepy" way. Don't keep pushing me to break that line. You will not win. I will not fight. I will not argue. It's stupid. It's immature. It's dishonest subterfuge. Don't fucking waste my time. When you're ready to talk, to answer, to be honest, then that's what we'll do. But in her fury, much was said. I'm ridiculous and immature. She's done with me. She's moving out. She doesn't blame dad for leaving. I "always". I "never". ...now, I'm keeping in mind that she's fluffing hugely to cover for the fact that she threw a grenade, and that she's 16, and that's she's herself, and other than ask her to specifically explain what she means by those things, I'm not biting. Then she says, "We aren't a family. What a joke" Wow. That one frigging hit home. Hard. With a flaming arrow. What is a family, then? I ask. Tell me. Define it. Not this, is all she can say to me. I stop hearing her. I can't. The white hot pain is too much. My ears shut down, my body shut down. Tunnel vision, I can't feel anything. I'm aware, after awhile, of tears falling, but I'm not crying. There's no sound. There's just nothing. She's quiet, finally. I explain that is was a poor choice, to bring up that vile creature's name in that way. She starts after me again and I remind her that while she can choose how to do what she is doing, and saying, she has no control whatsoever over my reaction and that it could swing quite wide at the moment. Why? When? Why? Where? Who? Why? What? I remind her of a great many facts. I tell her that she gets to answer my questions. Period. We do talk. Many things are resolved. lalalalalalala. We get home, she goes upstairs, I begin baking. She's all fine. I am still devastated. No matter how hard I've tried, to create a family out of the 2 of us, and our friends, extended family, I've failed, in her eyes. And no matter how angry she is at her dad, she is still angry with me for giving up. I did. When it was quite clear that it was a done thing, that he was already legally bound by that other country's laws to another woman, that he had made his choice, I did quit. I walked away. There was nothing to fight for anymore. She doesn't want us back together. She doesn't want it to be the way that it was. She's not looking for it to become something in some other way. She wants it to be a way that it could never have been. And it makes her angry that it isn't like that. Well, sure. I get it. God, when i got married, I wasn't starry eyed. But I sure as hell hoped that it'd work. I was doing my best and giving it everything that I had, that I knew. It just wasn't enough. We weren't right. 23 yrs trying as hard as we could and it wasn't getting better...24 yrs and we separate. 2 months shy of 25 yrs and we're divorced. Lord knows, we didn't just give up. And someday, someday...she'll understand. But for now, I just feel incredibly sad. It's a terrible thing to see yourself through your child's eyes and see that you are so flawed, frail and failed in their sight. At least in that moment. I do take some comfort in a conversation that we had a few days ago. She was relating that when she finds herself beginning to get on the "my life sucks, nothing every works out" wagon, she realizes that everything that she has wanted to have happen in her life, really, has so far. Not at all in the way that she'd thought it could, or should, but it's still happened. You can focus on the goal, you can't always choose the path it takes to get there. Yes, that rather sounds like life, now doesn't it? And I was impressed with her recognition of that. Later in the evening, her dad showed up to bring her his gifts for her and older daughter. Incredibly generous, as always. And it's awkward between us, as these times are. He leaves, then sends a text to me, wishing me a very happy Christmas, a safe and healthy day and one honestly filled with happiness because I deserve that. sigh. Daughter opened her gifts from him last night. They were exactly what she wanted. I'm happy for that. Dear friend contacts me at about 10:30, lost. Sad. Struggling. We can't talk, she's with family, but dealing with very large emotions herself. Goodness, was it in the air? So we text, I send her physical coping tools. After about 45 minutes, she's okay again. I'm glad. Older daughter, other than dreading later today and tomorrow, is doing well. Christmas, it's such an odd thing. What does it really mean to me, I wonder? I went into a disconnect with this time of year about 7 years ago. I believe in the magic of it...and I absolutely identify with the message of A Christmas Carol. Those feelings, of empathy, concern, and such, they are key elements to the success and survival of us all. Is Christmas designed to be a reminder of that? For those who haven't yet gotten the message? I don't tie it to Christ, I don't tie it to a religious dogma any longer. The traditions of the pagan are awesome, and the aspects of spirituality I absolutely endorse. Not just for this time of year, but for always. Gift giving, it's token for me. I try to give of myself, to give things of meaning. I wish people Merry Christmas, but what does it mean, really? So it's an awkward time. I...oh, I. and so, that's all, I suppose. Sarah is off drugs. She's been clean for almost 6 months now. She's told her family and others the truth. Daughter agrees that she understands how I find this idea terrifying. The idea of them talking again. She is sorry that she went that route. I am sorry that she didn't have the more traditional family life. I really am. I can't do a damn thing about it, it's all passed and she's almost an adult. All I can do is love her and support her and continue to be here and give guidance where she is willing to accept it. Help her maneuver through these years with as little fatal damage as is possible. And pursue my own life in the process. Write a book. Edit a book. Sell a house. and move life along. It isn't just another day... and yet, in more ways than not, it is. Every day, though, is unique. Full of every possibility. Of love. Life. Laughter. Tears. Opportunity. Healing...through the pain. Every day. They are all, a day. And in a day, any day, is life. So, I wish you Happy Christmas. But more importantly, I wish you, Happy Life. Be well. Take care. Go make it happen.
But the truth is, it's hard to watch for alot of people.
It isn't a pretty movie, overall.
It's main character is a dreamer, a doer. He's got plans and he wants so very much to have a chance to make them come true. Frustrated at every damn corner, straight line and breath, he reminds us each of ourselves.
The dreams we had to say good-bye to.
The plans that we didn't want to have to make.
The time after time after time that we took the high road, because we will, and lost out on something that looked like a magical opportunity.
The blessings in our lives that are so incredibly beautiful but that we can't see because our eyes are filled with the far-away glitz of an exploded sun.
That's George.
He's happy, in many respects.
And desperately unhappy in many others.
Until one night, when he has lost all hope. Remember hope?
So in his desperation, feeling that all would be better if he weren't around, he jumps from the bridge into the icy river, intending to end his life.
We learn later that his attempt is actually successful, except that he's been held in suspension, pending a viewing of truth, not his perception, and the choice that he makes after.
George learns what we all need to remember.
None of us lives without impacting the lives around us, known or not. Hopefully, that impact is for the better, even the tiniest little throw away moments to us can have profound effect on the others.
My friends, my family...
you bless my life.
There's no monochrome in my life with you, every color, every color, in every depth, you bring to me.
I love you all dearly.
More than you can every know.
Enjoy the movie, if you choose, and please know that your living makes my life most wonderful.
A cd that I choose to have playing when meditating, writing, working...many things. I prefer to have it on when giving a massage. What I learn from feel, what I receive through touch and can return when clear and focused is much. And so I am very careful. I lose who I am in these sounds, waves of emotion caught in wind and scent of earth and sea. I clear my mind easily and move from my heart and core of my body, feeling the energy build and pull, pulsing through me and into all parts, out my hands, eyes, mouth. It's a place of knowing many things that words can't be put to, known only in feel and spirit. A place where the mind that begs for words of intellect will fail to know...they must close their thoughts and let it be know to them, through touch alone. I often say, to those who ask, no, I need no drugs. So many things in life to suffer from if the control and quieting of the mind is not learned. It was learn. Or die. So I chose to be taught.Things taught to me long ago on a hill in a mountain's shadow ~ and even further back, in dark rooms with only the moon's light for comfort and protection. Yes, that mountain. She knows me. Look in my eyes and follow me in, as I lead you out. No fear. Just trust. It's nothing strange. Nothing odd. It's ancient. And very real. I only go into this meditative state when someone else is around if I'm prepared for them to see all my cards, to know all that I am feeling, for it's a place where all walls and guards are down. I am completely exposed. Trust, that trust. It runs both ways. Enjoy ~
Yep. SPUG. I saw this term today and had to look it up to see if it was real. There are a few web references given, some are in relation to a racial slur, others to a type of drink, etc etc etc...and I was beginning to feel a little crestfallen that perhaps it wasn't real. Until my brain kicked in and I decided to look under the real name, rather than the acronym. The Society for the Prevention of Useless Gift Giving. SPUG. Started as an idea in 1911, by 1912 it had local chapters across the country and quite a following, including a President or 2. I'm severely time crunched this week, so I'm posting 2 links that I chose. One is from Treehugger, and which does at times post dubious information, unfortunately. But I am also posting a piece from Slate, done last year on the 100th anniversary. An interesting note, the multitudes of members each paid .10 in dues, which led to the funding of the country's first Community Christmas Tree Ceremony in New York's Madison Square Park. For us, in this home, we buy a few things but concentrate either on experiences, which I've shared before and won't go into again (you're very welcome), gifts of self or things that matter and speak to something directly. I don't care what others do, no judgements. This is just what feels right for us. I will confess...I do miss the days of excited small voices and the tree piled with presents. That was the same excitement as turning a kid loose in their favorite place or two for a moment. I still play Santa every year, we put the cookies and Reindeer snacks out, watch Polar Express as the midnight hour strikes, leave lights and candles burning. The 21-25 are magical days for me. I adore them madly and want to spend at least a moment of them with the people that I love. I can't be with them all, obviously, but I do in my heart. After Christmas, it's on to New Year's, which became my favorite time a handful of years ago. I'll post that another time. So, enjoy a trip back a hundred years, when Americans were fighting the great consumerism evil. Good old days often seem quite familiar, don't they?
Taking a quick break from working on a writing project...have to clear my head, my own voice began creeping in and I needed to boot it back out. I guess it wants to be heard somewhere, little pooper. Spent time this morning working on several things. Christmas is coming and as always, these past few years, I am woefully behind in getting any of the things I started actually finished. With the bakery closing this weekend, I've been pushing to get as many documented hours in as I can...it'll be okay, beating back just a bit of panic. It's all part and parcel of what I knew would be coming in to play, and it's all good, it really is. In the bigger scheme and picture, I'm not panicked at all. That's my biggest concern. Fortunately, circumstances there are happening that serve it all quite well, so keeping that in mind and surfing well is what matters. Younger daughter had her interview with the college to discuss her application for entrance into the U3 program. She's been through the written bits, the tests, the orientation rounds, and this was the final step, the personal interview. It went great, she's in for this coming Winter quarter. Yay! I'm checking in to CC's further south to see how possible transfers occur, since we will be relocating. Hoping for house to hit the market around the first of the year, and with any luck it will sell by spring. H&R starts up again in 2 weeks or so, that'll be decent income coming in...i have to laugh a little at that. Decent income. We live almost 2 grand under poverty level and I call it a decent income. Perception, I suppose. We do without many things that others consider necessities and run on the super cheap with the rest, so that we can do the little things that we enjoy so much. Ah well. Onward...so she's in. I'm very glad. My girls are bright, and motivated as long as anxiety doesn't trip them up. I'm not saying that it's anybody's fault, we make our own confidence, really...but I often wonder what it would be like if they had the support and encouragement of their dad. But that's neither here nor there, so onward. Speaking of their dad...communication. I shared daughter's success with him and he needed reminded again of the entire situation. Now, in one respect, I get that, no problem. Except that I've had to repeat the entire thing so many times now...part of that is his continual suspicion that there are deceptions and subterfuges happening. If he plays dumb and you have to say it again and again, then the inconsistencies and errors will show themselves and you'll get the "real" story. It's a common thing with people, I see it often and know it immediately. Interestingly enough, that was a steady source of difficulty between us. My honesty and style of communicating unsettled him so much that he was certain it was to hide something else. Of course it would, he is from a culture where veiled deception is standard, accepted and expected. No one is surprised by it, no one is upset by it, it's just standard MO. That's not a judgmental statement at all. It's factual. When I began to realize, after 2 decades together, that we were so deeply and fundamentally different and that my clumsy attempts to cross over and communicate in a style that he could begin to not only understand but trust were merely seen as patronizing and mocking, and deceitful even though they weren't, I dealt with a fair amount of despair. I had always believed that truly believing in something could make it so...not a lie, that's always just what it is. But believing that I could bridge the chasm. Turned out, I could only go so far on my own. Had he been able to meet me, or at least believe me...well, maybe something would have been different. If 24 yrs of example wasn't enough...well, I couldn't show him in any other way. And I guess I gave up trying. As an aside, decided it's time to sell the jewelry. The rings and such. They're just sitting in a box, no sense in that. Reminders of...what? I went through the photo box last week or so, and for the first time in many years looked at our wedding photos. God, we were so young...babies. I was 21. WHAT?? What the hell were we thinking? But, other than the residual sadness, and strange feeling of looking at pictures of people I know that I once knew, there was no real pain. I even smiled at a few of the sillier ones. I think that when we stopped laughing, well...laughter is magic. I can always laugh at myself, and I only giggle a bit at someone I care about because they are delightfully "whatever they are" at that moment. Yeah. Time to do it. It's all a process. It's just stuff. It didn't make anything, protect anything, stop anything. Just stuff. People. They matter. The stuff, never ever did. Never ever will. Not for me. I'm fine if it matters to someone else, that's their choice. But a heart...that's not about stuff. That's about giving and loving and supporting and laughing and working and all the stuff of life. My happy doesn't rely on stuff and never did. WTF? What happened?? Wow, another rabbit trail. Damn bunnies. So, the school thing. And then the work thing, he kept asking why I was still working. Same date, same conversation, over and over. Oh well. No matter. He did think of both girls for Christmas, which is always so nice. I'm glad that happens. NOT the "thing" part of it, but the being interested in them part. Things are easier for him, it's safer than giving of self. Another fundamental difference. I suggested that he think about getting younger daughter art supplies, since that's her passion. I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned it here, but he's quite a talented artist as well. Paintings of his have, in the past, won awards and been featured in shows. It's been many years since he's painted, but he was a bit pleased to hear that daughter appears to have the same gift and he had a good time shopping for her. Older daughter has been trying to save for a coffee/espresso machine so I offered that as a possibility. I thought, she and her fellow enjoy and drink coffee daily, and every time she uses it maybe it'll bring a happy thought to mind in association with her dad. That's pretty much my motivation. They are family. I'd like for them to have a relationship that isn't dependent on me, eventually. I can hope. You know...hang on, this may be a squirrel run, instead of a rabbit thing... I used to feel very strongly in BELIEVE. And I still do, but not in quite the same way. BELIEVE is what I had before, what I mentioned above. When I had my last, most intense and potentially destructive breakdown, which I've been trying to finish a piece about btw, BELIEVE was taken from me. A major life philosophy. Gone in a second. I lost everything in that breakdown. I had a moment of a true break with reality, just a moment. And it took me 2 years to recover from the ptsd associated with that most brief moment in my life. 2 years of regaining my filter of life enough to begin to believe in anything again. The first thing that I began to believe in was what took the place of BELIEVE in that time... HOPE. But that's another topic. HOPE, and a small, silly doggy girl named Lola, saved my life. After this happened to me, even the divorce was a minor event in comparison. Enough. With the loss of BELIEVE, as it was, it became something else. And now, when I say that I know...I know. It's been born out time and time and time again. Onward. I'm done talking about their dad for now. He's not a bad man. Not in the least. I cared very much for him, and I will always care about him. Sunday I needed to be up on the island, and as I went through the little town, I went by the house we lived in when we separated. There were Christmas lights on the shrubs out front, the landscaping I had put in. I'm glad they are still there. I wasn't feeling nostalgic, that house was his from the beginning, it didn't fit me in the least. It's big and grand and quite the "such such". I furnished it, and did so quite well, decorated it (yeah, I can clean up well, i know how), did the landscaping (thank you EHS landscape design and horticulture). I was curious. I was really happy to see the lights out front. He's happy. And that makes me glad. He's a good guy. He tries, he does. Sometimes his tries are fine, sometimes I'm not sure they're in the universe...but at the end of the day, he'll be there for the girls, one way or another. In time, they'll all realize that that's pretty much all that matters. That's my HOPE. I choose to BELIEVE that is how it will end up. A good friend had surgery yesterday. I suppose it wasn't actually spinal surgery, but cervical surgery. An earlier fusion in neck vertebrate had resulted in the deterioration of the few above and those needed fused as well. Previous plate removed, new inserted, to cover all the above. There were some extenuating circumstances that made it very important to me to be there. Nothing that I can verbally explain beyond knowing that I would be, that I should be. And so, I was, along with another good friend and mum. Surgery went very, very well, and it appears that recovery will do the same. No loss of voice this time, so I didn't get my chance to shake a finger and kindly scold. As it turned out, I didn't need to. Those thoughts had already been at play, and as the discussion progressed later in the day I could easily tell that exactly what I had been prepared to say wasn't necessary. Whew. :) A long day, nonetheless. Gone from home for 14 hours, thankfully my best girl friend was on hand if younger daughter needed anything. I got home, had a delightful, if fast, chat with a worn-out someone who had been facing a big day and who had been very much on my mind...the day went beautifully well, btw...and I decided to head to bed. HA. I couldn't get the thought of wishing I could just pet that someone into sleep out of my head(right? Pathetic, I know. I give up. Mock me, flog me, it is what it is), so I ended up doing a full cardio workout and banging away on the same project that I left to come here and dribble along. Very glad to hear this evening that the day had been another good one, good news on the work front...and home on Saturday. Saturday is the day to be, I suppose. Winter Solstice. Bakery closing. Home. k. Enough dribbling. I'm going to do more work and then need to head to bed if sleep feels possible. Early into the bakery to make cookie dough, a split shift day. Thanks for the space to dump. No song. Does any of this tie together? Not sure. Too convoluted, I think.
