Tag: grief

Humanity

A Small Life

Lovelovemotherexpletive

I have been coming to the realization that there may not be hundreds of people at my funeral.

This may be a strange opening sentence.  I can’t tell anymore. I spend a lot of time alone.

I’m smiling.  people that love me tend to argue with me over this point. i’m not totally sure why. kind of, maybe, but not entirely.

i’m 44, i’m an introvert.  i love and take great great pleasure in working from home and having the kids with me when they are. (mostly. i’m no saint.) i’m a homebody. i don’t want my kids to be sick but its a thrill of a lifetime when they are and i can nourish them to health. *I’m here, I’m the universe.  I love people and I like to see them and laugh with them. but my circles are small, and i take great delight in the smallness of my life, most of the time.

when my dad died 5 years ago, there were hundreds of people at his services. and i’m not exaggerating. and i know other people who are still alive who will have that problem… well, you know what i mean… but i’m working on being really content with who i am.

working like: dirtyhands in the soil working.  cracked skin and calloused fingers.

i have a small life. a little life.  a life with children who are dynamic people living in my home still, a home, a dog, chickens, some land, a very fledgling ability to make a living…small.  *not insignificant, just small.

*the universe is in the grain of rice, ya dig?  thats me.

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Humanity

Fluttergaze and a shotgun.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

i spent the weekend with an infant and i watched him gaze and then look away and then go back to gazing…

and i do that, all the time… so much the gaze, the introspection, the focus … The Startle:  then i can’t handle it and need to withdraw in a figurative bubble to repair.  its as if the study and gaze of mine has rent me.

do you know that language? its how it feels.

and so after a wonderful weekend and a reunion with my man, i’m just barely able to get out of bed.

and i do not dig it.

and the world is rushing in to my bubble and i feel vulnerable to all the things.

i do not dig.

i look back at my most recent journaling and it tells me what i know is necessary. practice. receiving. practice.

like get down on your knees and practice. literally do something uncomfortable, completely force the boundaries to stretch, make yourself sick with the twist, get down on your knees and open up that cracked up walnut chest and just sit there, exposed. because that is the practice that I have to do these days.  I don’t know what is coming, and I still have to do it and I don’t really know if I can, if I can brave that particular chill.

i’ve felt this call before and brushed it off. this need to immerse, to peel off the skin… to bulletize… to turn myself insides out. . . i’m not sure that brushing it off is serving me anymore and i’m intimidated .

and i’m still laughing, and able to laugh even while inviting new guy to watch kids baseball games and expose us to publicity of a sort… – – – i did that.

and i still feel like i need to take all my clothes off and walk into the blizzard.

what is this?

tell me. Unwifedmotherexpletive collage page Just Observe

 

 

 

Humanity

raggedy bitch

Lovelovemotherexpletive

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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Humanity

thinks

Lovelovemotherexpletive

it used to be that the heroes vanquished the dragons. now, i wonder how we could all become dragons.

 what would happen if i actually did stop feeding them? 

8, such a pretty curvature.

low-lying pants still haven’t died out. i’m still not interested in seeing what kind of underwear you guys are wearing. still. and now i’m 44. i’m so old. why is that style still around? everything else has gone the way of the dodo and then returned. why has this one never left? thank god skinny pants also exist. at least there is variety. but skinny pants lying low so i still see your butt? damn, man, stop.  

You are allowed to be in a season of discovery and deep repair. You are allowed to be unformed and wordless as you change. You are allowed to pour time and energy into inner transformations that no one can see but you.   www.maraglatzel.com in an email… 

Anna Viola Lovind was talking about safety today, and creation… over on instagram. its so beautiful, and i’m all up in it.  I don’t even know if you can link to instagram like this… but she’s @annaviolalovind and its worth watching her there, for beauty’s sake.

today i sent my 13 year old boy to a school that had a threat yesterday.  we got a call from the superintendent last night saying that they, and the police, were taking it very seriously, and school would run normally today, wednesday. this morning i called the police station to assure myself that the threat had been removed.  WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK.  the world. the community. we’ve already all failed. WHAT THE FUCK. i sent him because he had a basketball game and he would not want to miss that.  FUCK .  FUUUUUUUCK. my heart hurts. minute to minute. hurts. 

I thumped my chest this morning, with my sick kid, because WE are Glorious. still. 

I miss holding hands with someone. If you can, go do that. Don’t take it for granted.BarnPhotoi dream of a barn like this, as an art studio, or a house for me in my old age… i’m not that complicated, as it turns out. also, interesting to note: do i really envision sharing it? can i ? 

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Divorce, Humanity

Little bit fallen.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

this one’s a little tricky.  so- –  it was a surprise to me to be sitting with my ex and his girlfriend at two sporting events this weekend, in the same day.  it was ‘my weekend’ and wasn’t expecting to see him at all… so i was traipsing between birthday parties and soccer and basketball and lunch-out… like all the days of life….it was busy and i needed to call on my mom and hero brother to do some of the maneuvering, in order to fit it all in.

and in the past, i’ve been given a little warning that it would happen. but i suppose that time has passed.

i am so thankful for the experience, really.  it shows me how far i have come and how much there is still to go.  i can make eye contact with her, fairly easily, at this point.  but not him.  that man i used to call HubsJ.  Watching them have intimacy in that casual way of couples doesn’t hurt at all in the jealousy way, which was very nice to notice…

but it hurts in the way of ‘none of it is real’ way…  if it was false for me, it will be false for her. . . if it was so false for me, how will i ever know when its not?

…. and i am not really sure how to incorporate those things into my world view.  THAT hurts.

The small piece of me that wants them ostracized for the total annihilation of myself is small. really small. but burns pretty brightly in my self-critique.  Maybe I would’ve brushed my hair or something ? but that’s only a maybe, because i live my life pretty damn well, and hair-brushing isn’t a thing that hits my list very often.

–In my self-critique, it is the small fire of ‘revenge’ and ‘judgement’ that I’m so harsh on.  I do feel both, that J is a monster, and that J is not a monster.  Both. and I want everyone to know, both. and the vaguery of this, and the fogginess of it…

–and i do, i do want people to rub my shoulder and love me up for surviving the experience. because man, it really is a fucking doozy.   and, i mean the marriage and i mean the basketball game.

my kids like her mostly, and i’m very happy about that.  and it continues, for me, to never be about her, specifically.  its all about J. and his utterly vacuous cluelessness.  And its about my embarassment .  my feeling of fear, exposure and judgement, failure.  i own it. i’m completely overtaken by it when i’m ‘outed’ in public like this.

I try to congratulate myself for being ‘big enough’ to sit with them. but it only works in hindsight and when I’m trying to be self-congratulatory.  (aha. doubly so.)

and in truth, it needs to be more ABOUT ME. JUST ME.  Me, SOLA e CONTENT.  me, the woman at the game with her kids, meeting her former in-laws and watching her kid leave his soul on the court. thats it. thats all it is.

I spent an awful lot of my life making everything about him. and that is not how my life is supposed to go.

there is a hell of a lot more to me than wifed or unwifed.

i don’t really want to post this one.  Wish I could tell you I was all done with all of this.

But I’m not.

closeup photo of black and green foosball table
Photo by Soumya Ranjan on Pexels.com