Humanity

Feather me February

part two.

i’m an introvert. yes. what this means for me is that i can’t do small talk very well. i end up clamming up sooner than most people can understand. not because i hate you, just because i’m out of words. if you want me to ask a relative stranger something incredibly invasive but thought-filled, i can do that, and i’m comfortable with that. i hate skimming the surface, and i love the depths.

now add in my hearing loss? and i’m an absolute winner at social engagement. the poor people i am involved with. i can feel intimately connected to women who have children that I know and they may not know my name. but i know them, because i’ve watched how they speak to their kids, how their kids expect the world to be, how they are when they are sitting quietly watching a baseball game. Because I can’t hear much, my observation skills are HIGH, mammajammas. HIGH. Doesn’t mean I can’t be fooled, but they are HIGH.

so here i come to what makes up part two, which is connected to part one.

I can get dreamy. I can spend lots and lots of time in quietude, even in a crowd. I watch, and live on the outside of things fairly often.

I can also feel invisible sometimes.

And since I have had relationships like that, where i was actually invisible, it is something I worry about. I get too wrapped up in what other people need and want. I need to be sure that my role in my own life is the primary one. How do I acknowledge that without feeling selfish? Even typing it, I am imagining the moms and women around me judging me.

and the moms and women around me are better than that.

but this is the thing, the tether ball pole standing awkwardly next to the tennis courts. If I am likely to disappear into my own world, my own mind, how can I keep from disappearing in real life? How can I stop feeling temporary? How can I make myself stay?

a feather, to be tethered.

sigh.

-me

gray shiny feathers on black background
Photo by Takeshi Arai on Pexels.com
Humanity

WELL, JANUARY STEPS IN IT.

My dog ate my hearing aide.

So.

what this means for me is that i make a phone call to an office where hopefully they will have the supplies to give me another one. which will cost two thousand dollars. one hearing aide. just one. no insurance for regular people covers it. or, at least not this regular person’s insurance.

what this means for me is that i walk around this empty house, but i feel like i have no legs. its super quiet, of course, but i have a level of -its not quite fear- but awareness that i might not be hearing something that i need to hear- like a tree hitting the house, or a phone ringing. pre-emptive anxiety? awareness of not-safe? quiet is not the same as peaceful. thankfully, kind of, the kids aren’t here, so i can have my extremely controlled panic in private. if they were here, though, i’d have less anxiety as they’d hear the breaking glass of an intruder or a tree hitting the house.

(yes, i’m absurd, but yes, also, those are real thoughts i have)

so. sigh. and fuck.

i was needing to do a big shop at the grocery store but its hard enough hearing with all the masks and stuff. people are frucking nuts right now and i can’t handle it right now. maybe i’ll get a new aide real quick like? i have savings and a credit card so i’m okay. (i say to my sister who is, right now, jumping into action to save me..:)

i’m lucky. i know it.

its so quiet. come hold my hand and distract me.

i’m waiting for a phone call that i may or may not hear.

its super fun.

-meh.

love love anyways,

me

Humanity

Music Travails…

My hearing has been crap for a while now. But I used to listen to music, I did.I had two working ears and could make out what I liked to hear. I was never the driving force behind it in any crowd… it wasn’t me saying ‘hey, guys, listen to this..’ Even when my hearing was based on the two-ear system, i was always taken by the lyrics, the melodies or the thump of the beat… if it was such that i couldn’t figure out what was being said, it didn’t hold my interest. remember when the cassettes had all the lyrics on the foldouts? It kept me connected and i ended up memorizing a million things that are sometimes still with me, 30 years later.

I started walking the first day I was single during this pandemic. I had been happy and with a man who loved my body exactly as it was, so while i noticed my weight, it wasn’t until i was on my own and frazzled very very deeply, that i realized that i wasn’t strong anymore. so, walking at dawn while the kids sleep, almost every day at this point for about 4 weeks. to keep me motivated, i’ve played music on my phone.

and i’m in love. I started with old familiars that I could find on youtube. thank you, autoplay. on and on it went. i’ve got headphones that are bigger than your firstborn, but it has been completely awesome. I’m even discovering new things…

Remember Throwing Muses, Belly! Blondie, Indigo Girls, Mazzy Star, Stone Roses, Natalie Merchant? Sometimes I jump while I walk, for the memory, the surprise. I’m totally in love. The days I miss a walk, I’m bereft.

Belly : Feed the Tree

Blondie: Dreaming

Indigo Girls: Galileo

New to Me: the Bird and the Bee: My Love

Also, but I think I’ve always known this one: Waterboys: Fisherman’s Blues

So, I leave you with these three. and recognize a new breeze in coronatime.

ALSO: tell me what you are listening to. I like it all, if it has lyrics that spark.

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.

Humanity

Fiddlesticks

Sandman Universe Cover Unwifedmotherexpletivethis is not to be confused with fiddleheads. one is edible, at a particular time of year, and one is not.

fiddlesticks is what you say when you are trying not to swear, and something is frustrating in a fairly benign but relentless sort of way.

(the way i’m feeling about my ears and their continuing saga is not benign, and is aggressive and full of paralyzing fear and despair. fyi)

fiddlesticks pertains to the kid who stayed home sick today, mostly as a result of exhaustion from Daylight Savings Time and an overly exciting weekend with Dad, in which sleep was just a third or fourth thought. or 12th, i don’t know.

fiddlesticks, baby.

-because the world is in something of a tizzy about the new flu, it makes me re-tell stories about my grandmother, the lovely of my life, who won Mother of the Year, for real, sometime in the 60s, and wrote letters to the newspaper about how kids who were sick should not be attending school, for the health of the community. so i’m there, quoting my long dead grandmother in hopes of winning the prize of a healthier community.  think it will work?

i’m tired. i’ve been reading, but its been magazines, a few wordless picture books and oooh, a beautiful comic.  yes, really. LM is a junkie of the comic book sort so i found myself at a huge sale this weekend.  Because i cannot stand in the midst of so much reading material and close my eyes, i asked which were the most visually stunning, because i thought that was a good place to start.

and so.  i give you Neil Gaiman’s comic book.   The, yes, Neil Gaiman.  you aren’t really surprised if you’ve read much of him. I know.  What I did was buy two copies of the same story, with different beautiful covers.  Because I am going to cut one of them up and use it, as my own art.

because i am a deviant.

Then, i read Return by Aaron Becker. (not from the comic book store, but of a family…since it is a wordless picture book) I’ve tried to capture the feeling of his illustrations in colors of my own, in wildly less beautiful paintings. . .   SO GORGEOUS.

sigh. the other beauty of a comic book is Silver Surfer Black Treasury Edition, which is so vibrant it almost knocks you over.

I’m not gonna kid you. My brain is not clicking along at its normal rate, but these are some gorgeous works of art, masquerading as fluff.  don’t be a fool and fall for it.

so there. and yes, i will figure out how to share illustrations, or my photos of these things, because man, oh man, my eyes are thirsty.

Silver Surfer Black Cover Unwifedmotherexpletive