Tag: grief

Humanity

The enormity…

Lovelovemotherexpletive

the structure of things is simple. an outline, a scaffold of right angles and sturdy support. the veinous structure of the map.

and then there are the details.

the rhythm of the heart. the out-branching, the outlier, thinner and thinner and prone to dissolution. age and wear. the curve of a doorway arch. the dirt road still in use. the ‘what’s for dinner’ call at the bus stop at 8 am…

in my brain, something snagged. A detail stuck out and hooked all the scaffolding for miles in a precarious leaning-towards a vast nothing.

I have believed, for months, that I needed a w2 from my last ‘real’ job, and today I started acting on finding it. Because an answer did not immediately fly my way, my body got anxious.  as in, my heart is still tight now, hours later, my skin was flushed hot and prickly and i was buried in shame. and this, all this, in a series of maybe 6 text/message/email exchanges. six.  (and I’m wrong. I don’t need that w2.)

simple. not simple.

i want to joke about death and taxes. i really do.

i can’t entirely figure it out.  the shame? dear god. Shame? COME ON. shame is for cain and abel. for trump, if in fact he had a heart or soul… but me? shame?

ugh. brene brown, come and get me.

Cluttered countertop UnwifedMotherExpletive

Something about being a good girl, I am sure. Following the rules. Having clear countertops. Failing. Failing at taxes, being ignorant of what you need to get by in the world. Not knowing the loopholes, not knowing the structures to climb. Not knowing what you do not know.

the enormity of all that I do not know.

biggie, out.

Divorce, Humanity

where its at. what i got.

Lovelovemotherexpletive
  1. I survived the November/December overwhelm but something needs to be different when it rolls around next year.  There is grief for my father, yes, which can’t be undone. but it is complicated by the loss of the marriage (Yes! Still! I can’t believe it either!)  and all the dreams I thought were mine for so long…  the holidays are a minefield of negotiations, two kid birthdays and thanksgiving, christmas eve, christmas day, new years eve, new years day and all of the days in between… and full days of childcare/love in amongst it all.  negotiations between what is and what I thought life was, negotiations between their father and me, so many of them. Negotiations for myself and my expectations of real life and real love and the real-ity that I am in with the Loveliest man. (he’s still a lovey)  I’m fully exhausted.
  2. https://youtu.be/0Uc3ZrmhDN4 
  3. There is the world, which is frankly, and still, just TOO MUCH.
  4. I have made my own laundry detergent. LM did the grating of the soap and it still smells lovely. Fels Naptha, Washing Soda (think baking soda) and Borax.  I think that is it.  Pretty sure. no link for now because everything i just looked up was corporate or link-laden. i hate that.
  5. I have more plants than fully makes sense.
  6. I’m going to forbid my kids any plastic bottles, starting tonight, which, believe it or not, might cause an actual walk-out. it used to be a thing to get drinks after sports. cold ones. now there’s a whole lot of ‘suckit up, kids, we’re almost home’. I’m going to save a lot of money as well. so, bonus.
  7. and, lastly. i hate gingerbread houses with a passion straight from the divine. molten lava hatred.  this one was delivered to a little girl by the LM, who did not know.  It was all pre-formed, all of it. all i had to do was frosting it together. has my hatred dissipated, you ask? no. no it has not.

What’s your list like? Tell me.

Gingerbread House Unwifedmotherexpletive

Divorce, Humanity

Holidaze. Stupid stupid. (ode to pms?)

Lovelovemotherexpletive

yeah, i am in some sort of dark tube of hellacious premenstrual bollywood currently.

so there.

i’m dreading the days i will miss the kids before christmas, when they are at their dad’s. i already want to cry about it. probably will.  ( i get them back christmas eve, but there is no telling me, in current state.) last year i stayed in pajamas and drank too much wine and wrapped things and cried. some people call that heaven, i know.

sigh.

it’ll pass. i know. yes. and i still have been wondering if i should revamp my consideration of my anti-depressants. i’ve stopped taking them, roughly 8 months ago. (plenty of rollercoasters, that i’ve survived just fine…)

premenstrual rollercoaster, you all are my witnesses. hand to god.

its like this: self-loathe. rationalize. hit the wall of regular life. self-loathe. bump in the road grows insurmountable. quit. lie down. do laundry. self-loathe, rationalize. and so forth.

and it might all subside in the next 24 hours. if i’m lucky. might have to wait 36, or 48 more. i’m a loser like that. see?

(don’t ever underestimate the power of a hormonal swing, my friends. ever.) (((if i ever had a need for a picture of swing, now would be the time. now.)))

Elephant Office Unwifedmotherexpletive

Humanity

Burn! Burst! Die!!

Lovelovemotherexpletive

In fall, things flame before they die. There is Fire! Pain! Dramaaaaaa. And then wintry death.

I’m on my phone, typing with a flashing digit of my own. It’s all surreal, how many changes we’ve incorporated fairly seamlessly. (technology, divorce… )And the changes we cannot seem to absorb? Those are surreal as well. (technology, divorce…)

its another day now, i’m not on the phone anymore, which is a blessing. i’m 100% positive I cannot communicate well with it, even verbally.

so here i am.

It is really so clear here, where we have such a fiery fall, that there are these last gasps of glamour, and one strong wind will sweep us into the branch segment of our year.  the sticks of winter, the pokey bits.

i’m feeling a little dissociated lately, even the writing i do for myself feels a little flat.  i just thought about telling you how my direct line of sight goes to a row of evergreens out the window, so i find it very easy to feel/see/remember green year-round.

and then i stopped myself (obviously i lost that battle, in the end, but the gears all jarred, clang clang clang) because i thought it was too flat, too un-quippy.

Last year i was very caught off-guard by the grief i felt at the fifth Fall since my dad died. This year i’m not caught off-guard but am surprised by how much I feel like crawling into a hole for the month.

and there is nothing I can do about it. The kids keep demanding to be fed. The dog barks, the chickens will just up and die. So there is no hole for me.

PISS! GROAN! HIDE!

sigh.

1019191812

Divorce, Humanity

lost and found, but lost.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

hi. I’m at the end of my recovery day, from yesterday’s full 24 hours of hell, from both ends. the kids were at school for the bulk of it, but after school were play auditions for two kids, and a soccer game so I needed to ask for help. and it came, with trumpets. kids were taken to tryouts, soccer was watched and that kid got to go out to dinner with his dad…dinner was served to other kids, homework was done.  a small crew of 3 adults did what I do on a normal Wednesday.

I’m not going to tell you I’m not proud of my life.

and I’m going to tell you that you are lucky if you have family and love like I do. so lucky.

today is recovery. fair amounts of water, boredom in bed, sickness at the thought of food, but hungry.  by the time the bus rolled around today, I had moved myself to the kitchen cozy. spent an hour just chatting with my girl because I missed her yesterday. an hour. the bliss of it. just cozied up. I learned about the lady who did all the math for the moon. (Katherine Johnson) Everything stays the same, yes? but these tiny differences? that my girl sits on my lap and tells me all about the LADY that did all the math to save the men who traveled to the moon? oh, it’s rich with possibility. if this were a comic, we would turn the page to the next ms. marvel.

but since I’ve been in bed all day, I now can’t sleep, as weak and ridiculous as I feel. and so I’m here, apologetic.

one thing: I paid to print out the whole of my old blog, wifemotherexpletive.com  

1016190912I thought it would be so cool to go through it and pick out the things that I loved, that I have written, those bits of beauty that slipped through and away during those years.

and I can’t. I read the first post, and the second, and did some flipping. and it is just unbearably sad. I was so sad, all the time, and mad, and lost. like the perfect puppy who lives under the bridge while the happy family walks by, unseeing. I hate ‘near miss’ movies, and I’m pretty sure I lived one for a long time. Maybe the hate comes from the experience.

It was ten years of my life, that writing. and makes two volumes, when divided chronologically. the first is so fat, rich with hope and trying. and the second volume thin, with so much less of everything.

I don’t want to look into the memories, or remember what the code was in my stories, as I was trying so hard to communicate with my husband my devastation at what i was, what we were.

Its been crushing me a little, into sickness maybe? and this is the season when I feel devastation the deepest. if one has any choice in that, at all.

so there it is. my late-night blog. what the hell do i do with all that?