weird upper lip. check. fuzzy face. check. asymetry in the facial features. check.
sigh.
man who likes me anyhow? check.
more on that one. eventually. suffice it to say that my mind is not on writing this week. it’ll regather as the days move on…
Tag: joy
School vacation: dickish #248
sigh. motherhood.
am i right?
that was me for most of my days when my kids were under 5. I’m not in that spot anymore. i recognize it, i remember her well, and can impersonate her at will.
but my kids are just huge. and with divorce comes a whole huge dose of the new adult understanding of impermanence. i’m just gifted them for such a damn short time. and then they go off into the world and i’m still living with me, in the end, just me, as roommate and lovah, all. (even if there is someone else there, or a slow dribble of children coming and going)…
i’ve handled things differently this vacation, for the first time ever. choose differently. i am using money to have two whole days wherein all 3 kids will be at camps. and one will be gone four whole days in the end. its allowing me to write here, to do a little bit of thinking, and to act as if it were almost a normal week, which honestly? is so so good.
because its school vacation and the biggest dickish one is very clearly ME. the fiery circle of hell that is my dinner time prep on vacation days is dissipated, because its an almost regular day. and because i have a little bit of routine i can handle the constant calls for entertainment and food and bitchery that emanate from the living areas . almost like an odor.
right now? i’m typing this at a starbucks because i have a giftcard . rock that. school vacation week and i’m alone with hot coffee and a bit of focus. i don’t believe it either. but there it is… a little change in thinking and a redirection of funds, and there is an EASTER MIRACLE.
right now? yes, right now it is a MIRACLE. look for one near you. 
Discovery of self-worth. Eureka?
SO my hatred of The Magicians has passed. I mean, how can i actually ‘hate’ anything make-believe? its just silly speak and i’m moving on . . . see? the meds are with me.
cop-outs are everywhere.
and self-deprecation is the tool of the TRUE GODS AND GODDESSES… if only we weren’t so good at deflection, you’d be blinded.
(read that one slowly.)
and no, i haven’t lost my grip on humility. not even momentarily, sadly. (had to look up how to spell Eureka, for fucksake)
i do have moments when i can say good things about myself, i mean, i do. and i do thank my ex for that, because i have real moments of self-value that come simply from being taken for granted, and its really powerful to really deeply feel how much you matter to the world you’ve created. the kids do the same for me. … when i have to demand that they speak to me a certain way, or that they ask for things rather than demand…its respect, and i deserve it… 
little bits and bobs…
took me awhile.
but also, last night, i actually WENT to the gym i signed up for. and i’m proud as anything that i made it. because i was anxious about it for days. nervous about what people would think, how weak i would look, how sweaty and fat i would be… all irrational, to a large degree. its been awhile since i was fit, and i’m sad and a little embarassed by it. but i know i can get it back, i just have to put in the time, again, and make sure i do it for myself. utterly only? … which is nearly impossible for me. i definitely work better when i think there is some benefit that is broader than just myself. in this case? kids… want to stay strong and fit as a role model of strong fit woman for the kids…
but then it makes you think about the things you do overcome… and big and little and what pride you have in accomplishing things…
i’m running my household, i am truly the head of the household. always was, but didn’t know.
i’m figuring out how to value the simple way i move in the world. i’m not spending tons of time chastising myself for my hit and run socializing. i just get all frazzled after 15 minutes and have to run away. thats it… its not a huge statement about what an asshole loser i am.
i do wish i could spend more time, sometimes, but listening is just so damn hard, 15 minutes is about my limit. and i love people, even if they don’t know i do.
and thats another thing i value about myself. i love people, even if they don’t know i do. how cool is that?
anyhow. its a beginning. make your own lists, babes.
Meds and the medsing meds.
So, these last few weeks have been full of small glitches in the routine, which, yes, I know are ACTUALLY the routine. but still. sick kids, sick me, sick them, sick middle of the day, procedures, appointments missed, car troubles, money troubles, and so on. . . fucking daylight savings time and missed buses! and you get my drift. . .
so, i’ve been off my routine. and one of the things i’ve done is been inconsistent with taking my anti-depressants. and thats had weird results.
somedays i have a really weepy afternoon, full of conversations (internal) with an ex, that will never ever happen, and shouldn’t and won’t. and the weep will make me realize i haven’t taken my meds, and will also make me realize i haven’t dealt with a certain something that is on repeat in my brain.
today i have forgotten to take it, and i have no excuse. its my Sunday of relax. I mean, well, i get from wakeup til one, when the kids return and we cook , or play video games or have family come by… today there’s another practice, which i hate, but whatever. i just texted the coach to see if she could do the driving for the kid. we’ll see.
i’m not depressed, i will tell you that. i’ve friends who are, have been, and what i have is not this. When the marriage was so hard, I had all the therapists tell me to get on meds, honestly, and I kept saying no because i knew my upset was situational and not chemical. ( i know i’ve talked about this before, but i think it bears repeating, again and again, in case someone needs it).
Once the separation started, the therapist at the time, said the only thing that ever made me change my ways. She said that being in a hard situation for so long will change your chemicals… and thats what i needed help in dealing with.
oh. so my crushingly depressing homelife, full of repetition and hope and deflation could be eased with a chemical? no. first i needed to be the only adult here, because i can really count on me.
really.
and that matters a hell of a lot.
but . my point. meds and the medsing meds that i am not always taking.
what i wonder about is this: these things that are popping up on my weepy afternoons and my mind-ratatattat that i am hearing/feeling…. ARE they things that I must feel in order to have them dissipate? Have I somehow been dulling these details with the meds? –and the only way to actually heal from them is to FEEL all the feels, even these stupid, old wound ones?
i honestly probably need to seek a therapist, right? does some OTHER person have the answer to this? do I ?
ha. just occurred to me i might find an answer in both directions: if i get consistent again and also if i just stop.
blagh. but, as i need to count on me, and so do my kids, i should probably find out if there are repercussions to stopping before i do.
because hello. MOM.
so what if i just had raisin bran for lunch? i’m the adult.
laughing… its my sunday thinks…
Sage on the mountainside.
i can tell you this.
i’d never hangout on the top of a mountain. that seems fraught with peril. i’d much rather a small cabin tucked into a nook for safekeeping, with herbs hanging from the rafters and birds that are my friends and some predators that have adopted me and protect me while i sleep.
visitors get to sleep by the fire.
so thats one thing. one thing of all the things i could tell you . so many.
when i went out to clean the chicken coop i discovered one of my hens had died in the night. and its possible she was bonked to death by the several roosters (4) that i have. but i am sad. and after disposing of her in respectful ways, i didn’t really feel like diving into chicken poop anymore. so the wild springclean has slipped down the list.
but i’ve torn the plastic off a single window and opened it. ( i am not willing to commit to the plastic-free windows til we are past the frost date because sheesh, frosty toes are bad.)
i was barefoot today.
Still am.
Another thing is this:
I’m lonely, true. But I am so happy that I am not dead, and that I am not still struggling to find my way in that relationship.
Another thing is this:Â even with a jackass for president, the world is still indescribably beautiful, and we should all be working for peace in the whole of it.
If this means shunning gun manufacturers or right wingers who think hurting someone is okay, then i’m allright with the shun. both the silent and the vociferous.
Let’s find out who they are. yeah?
and another thing: i have organized three whole bookshelves for myself. and this, in a room that once held all the books of the world, three, for me. only me. all my books. well, hells bells, not all. but comeon, i’m making a point. there is Poetry, there is ART, there is serious fiction and then there is fantasy fiction, because i love a good swashbuckle with magic, and maybe a dwarf.
its kind of thrilling. and it felt really nice to do for myself. amidst the dozen popup books, and the christmas collection and the riordans and the nonfictions, there they sit… my three shelves… the kids won’t even notice, but that was my saturday gift to myself. a little mom in the mayhem.
Maybe not trekking up to the top of the mountain will give peace to the seekers. That would be nice. I can make soup? Come visit.
