Humanity

NOVEMBER NONO: TwentyFOUR. Grateful.

Yeah, yeah, a gratitude one.

  1. I guess I’m grateful that teenager’s moods flip on a quarter toss. Because the shit flies as fast as the good. Right? I guess. The way in which they need you even while hating you is a little bit soul-breaking.
  2. I think I’m grateful that there are so many blankets in this house. At least for this six month season of needing them to stave off winter chills. I am aware that I may be a hoarder of warmth-bringers.
  3. Its probably why I like men so much, and keep collecting them. Warmth-bringers. I am grateful for my flexibility and nonjudgmental ways with them. It can be fun, and yes, there are duds. But also diamonds.
  4. I am pretty grateful for my curious ways. I’ve learned a lot about myself every year this past decade, and its not always been smooth, and I’m still curious. More curious now than I was while I was married, but I’m less hurt now. When you’re wounded, you don’t look around in wonder.
  5. I’m amazed by my kids, on the daily, even when they are outraged by my saying no. Teenagery is a bitch, a real, flat-out bitch. I’m grateful, like I already said, that I can see the childlike behind the bitch.
  6. I’m grateful for color, it pulls me out of my inner mudmunch all the time. And still, my favorite thing is to stare at the cast-iron black at my feet and know that there is fire within. Always fire within.
  7. I’m incredibly grateful that in all this pandemic time, economics hasn’t been a stressor on me. Aware, yes but not a stressor. I cannot believe my luck and my gratitude is deep for the lawyers who have set this up.
  8. I’m grateful for the super goofiness that I’ve encouraged (created?) in my kids, because it saves us all, and me, in particular. I love it so much.
  9. I’m grateful that my vanity about myself is incredibly random, as almost everything about me is. It has enabled me to gloss over my discontent with certain things. Meaning, minute to minute I forget that I’ve gained so much weight this year. Then I remember, then I let it go, and it stays gone til I remember again. Its a miracle.
  10. I’m grateful for indoor plumbing and heating. The virus has not effected either, and I am inordinately glad.

Now you. Do yours.

Humanity

NOVEMBER NONO SIX: its all in the details.

11/6/2020

whats going on around you?

What are the details of your very spot?

  1. I’m looking out the window into a rhododendron, leaves happily unfurled, a web of green hiding spots for little birds of flutter. Below the window sits the one-winged angel, and the tall and lanky santa too big for the closet. He sits out all year, grey and gold and gently smiling in a Canadian way.
  2. My feet in their old blue pumas are tucked under the chair, I’m ashamed to say I drove my kid to school in my pajamas, plus a sweater and sneakers. Camouflage?
  3. I was going to treat myself to a Friday coffee and donut but realized I am rotund, and its birthday Christmas season and that makes me prioritize funds quite a bit. So. Fat and poor means make your own damn coffee, kate.
  4. Coffee and phone next to me for text communication with the few friends I have. Realizing how fragile I am when it comes to hope. These are deeply planted seeds and there are miles of soil above me and I’m just not going for it. Tell me what the answer is when it is over and I will roll from there. I will wait for spring maybe? I wrote once, a great paragraph. Let me see if I can find it because it would be wonderful to share that one. Here it is:

You’ve watched and you’ve felt and you knelt down until these knees gave out and then you melted into the earth. And found a new root to take hold of, and I’m so thankful that you kept seeking, that the light in you sought root and stretch and painful growth through packed down soil. Because now we are here together at the cusp, the crust having broken enough to let the light down to us. We who will wait out the winter, letting leaves fall on our face, protecting us from the next storm, and the next, still catching all the filtered sun, and the warmth that soaks us. 

5. I’m all in grey, grey nightshirt and grey sweater, feet now on the charcoal black of the woodstove. Its so warm today that there is no fire, no smoke, no heat, no crackle. I might even open a window. Let some of this climate confusion blow through.

6. In the background I hear two different teachers teaching through screens. So much work these women and men have done, to entirely transfigure the way they communicate. When I think of how much I have lost by losing facial expressions on people I talk with, I think of classrooms and humor and the teaching done by socializing. I want them back in so badly, and I want it so badly to be safe for everyone. goddamnit.

7.One boy slouches on a sofa and the other rolls around in my old office chair. Back when I had an office.  I write now in the kitchen, central to the action all the time. I get visitors who need physical breaks and snack foods. I’m allright with that. Almost two teens and this is the best and last big expanse I might have with them. I’m sucking the marrow out of this while still in my pajamas and staying in the kitchen. The grease is good with me.

8.I have two friends who work in hospitals with covid patients and they are beyond stressed. Does anyone clap anymore? My phone flashes dread. I worry about them and am utterly powerless.

9.My book piles are a little out of control. There are three near me now. One towers on TOP of the woodpile. How does that make sense? Will I never build a fire again? There is one book that I am actively looking for (Hello Kerry Clare.) and the book piles seem daunting. Shift them? Everytime I look at one, I start a new book, causing more piles to pop up. Its like gremlins in water.

10. The mug that I bought myself when freshly separated is still the most beautiful one. Anthropologie ridiculous but its my initial, in flowers, and its possibly the prettiest thing I own. It sits next to my tarot cards on a table I retrieved from my sister in laws beach house. Delicate beauty and usefulness. I haven’t used the cards this month and rely on them for meditation when things go too quickly south. My mother thinks they have something to do with the devil. I don’t quite know how to address that. I just took a picture of my mug, with the phone that is flashing about elections and flirtations, and more dread. and here we have arrived at ten.

Mug on table. Floral Letter K.

get down and give me ten.

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.

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