Friday, October 23, 2015

Crackin' dem eggs...

Yesterday i was so miserable, fighting back hysteria at every turn.  I mean, walking in the door with sobs, choking it back as I get out of the car...and while it is the season of my father's death two years ago,and winter is fast approaching, I cannot truly make out why sobs have so powerfully re-entered my walking world.  When the tussling kids knocked over my gigantic cup of coffee (yes, my fault. my ever-vigilant preventative-mother must have let down her guard.. sarcasm, and bitter at that....) ... all over the books, all over the floor, all over the everything within a solid three feet range.. and since i am nearly deaf i did not hear it go, and the kids made are not enough ellipses to dramatize this... ... .  I lost my everlovin' mind....  QUoth the mother... " i was not meant to spend my fucking life cleaning up fucking SPILLS" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  somehow the overuse of exclamation points deadens the truth of my deep howl...
 to the kids, yes, to the kids.  And while, usually, i am able to toss off my rebellious thoughts, this one went deep and i could not shake off the feeling of being misused somehow, wasted. and so began the day.  a humdinger.
i muddled through, doing things that needed doing, certainly, and hiding my inner turmoil from the two year old in my midst fairly well.  uncracked but wobbling.

and then.  this morning, my hearing aid broke.  and there is noone in the office til monday.  so there you have it.  a break, when one did not know that one was requesting a break.  (or, rather, one sortof knew, but certainly didn't expect a literal breakage.) crack.

and so now i have all this space, this quiet, this lowered expectation ... and its the lowered expectation mixed with the complete and utter satisfaction that my hearing is not gone, just unmechanically aided for the weekend.
and its going to be a challenge to deal with three soccer games of explaining, but its almost a relief to just put it on the table.  no, i can't hear you, can't make small talk or suffer through Trying to hear your small talk.  i can't.  i have a serious hearing loss that they call 'profound', and today, finally, i'm not trying to fool you into thinking i can communicate like a regular person.  there is relief.
maybe i'll make myself a sign.
oh my god, the kids would die.
it is so good to have a new kind of hysteria.

and guess what?  i can't hear whines, either.  bet you could handle that for a couple days...

it will be hard, and i'm probably going to be sad at times, for what i miss. but there it is, space.  wide open before me. and at the end, an appointment, a repair and a moving on...

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Log Lady

The log lady died, did you hear?  the woman of twinpeaks fame?  Can you believe, of all the news in the world, that THAT made it through my firewalls?  sheesh.  I know, its (the show. the woman) probably not personally relevant to anything, but death, for all its necessity? still a loss, a sadness of inevitability, a change resisted...  relevant, always.

These were a log that arrived at the house. Milled right in front of my eyes.  I thought these things only happened to the Waltons. 
so. a tree, repurposed.  are we so egotistical that we think we improve on nature by cutting into it? OR, do we use our vision and 'sight' to imagine multiple uses of what exists? what can be? an explosion of art, love, human endeavor?

This is the tree where they began. 

This is the friend and the husband at work, on the logs and the trees. 

This is what I was doing while the beauty and stark betrayal and transformation of the tree from hearted warrior tree to hearted childhaven tree. Its branches shorn, it was re-shaped into what will be.  And while menfolk wielded chainsaws, I was stacking, stacking, stacking... winter will not catch me unawares, at least not entirely.  Would I really freeze to death rather than cutting into nature? what is my nature, afterall, but a constant reshaping of spirit?  - another repurpose? or a joining of purpose and existence? a death so that life may be continued?
there is that.
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i'm working on weighty things of late, not the least of which is mine own inner and outer weight, and solitudes of plenty. (and much of it is written down)  i will let you know how it goes. hopefully levity will be part of it.  (pbbst)

Friday, September 25, 2015

Tan lines.

I lost my ring.  My favorite, favorite. Even more favorite than the marriage bands, which I have incorporated into my bones. . . but this ring?  I didn't realize how proud I was of it, how much the thing of beauty on my hand had become part of an inner-identity.  Purchased when we were freshly married, it was an astonishment to have on my finger, a plainly beautiful silver ring with unsparkling stones and a creativity of design which garnered compliments from strangers. A touchstone, and now an empty spot that i find surprisingly empty multiple times per day.  In the fall chill, it simply slipped off my bony digits.
It makes me think of so many things;  How plainly I was moved to this, this joining of two human beings... how I stepped so straightly, so solidly forward into a great matrimony.  How clearly it was the right thing to be done, for the world and for our love.
How little I feel able to incorporate hope with its eviltwin fear.  I walk about the house, turning things over... could it be in the compost pile?  maybe its under that sock i moved last week... maybe i inadvertently dropped it in the salvation army bag... should i look? is it in the broiler? When I go to soccer practice again do i search where i was sitting last? do i stop this? will i be looking forever in my house with hope and fear?
It IS just a thing, and it is more, all at once.  Symbols are what they are, and less, and more.
And I am yearning so, for Hope. yearning, keening, wishing, leaning.  and it is hard, very hard, to yearn for something when the scarecrow flap of fear is so constantly partnered with it.  It would seem to make sense to turn away, to stop the movie, neglect to check the basement...
but what if hope is down there?  how can you face your life if you stop looking for it?

Monday, August 24, 2015

Hope all is rejuvenating and recalibrating in your worlds... i'm alive! And kids go back soon so i'll be back in a bit-more to the world. . .

Friday, June 5, 2015

terribly good.

i'm terribly good at saying no to myself.  terribly.  one would almost think its some sort of contest - my will against my what? my flagrant success? my sinful, wanton needs?  shoot, man.  self-abnegation is certainly not the american way, and it certainly doesn't seem to be lending itself to any peace, i can tell you that.  great, so i abstain from alcohol, i abstain from night-time meetings, i abstain from sex, it seems, although that one is not so much by choice but by circumstance. . . i abstain from spending money... when i am low i actively stay away from all things that might possibly be an actual benefit to my psyche.  - there are chocolate covered pretzels in the cabinet- full disclosure-
i can't even figure out anymore what it is that i want to say yes to.  what are the things that i want in life? to feel ?  most of my desires center around the kids, what i want for them, what i'd like to feel for them, what i'd like them to experience if they get the chance... so much so that when i get my minutes free and i've read the books, then i'm at a loss what to do- the laundry is running, the dishwasher is flooding, and i'm sometimes certain there is nothing left to do but socially network, and even that? not so good at it, just reading, not sharing. . . i think the point of it is to share, but i'm not so much with the sharing these days.
the walnut heart is taking its toll.
you've heard this before.  here's newstuff. but not really, since there is nothing new under the sun, and i buy into that one wholeheartedly. (nut-heartedly)
my mom is having a hysterectomy this coming week, to try to remove cancer by removing the whole kit.  and that is lurking on me... emotionally and logistically as i try to prepare to have her recovery take place in this 'family life'.

i miss my dad a lot because cancer is scary and he'd be doing all the stuff that i am, and more comfortingly for my mom, more privately, more assuredly.

the marriage is tricky and we're trying to work on it, which is scary, and isolating and heart-hurty.

the kids seem fine, much is needing to get done before the summer begins in two weeks.  much will not get done.

 i'm trying.