Mind Blown

I'm constantly amazed at how bad my family is at showing empathy and concern.  Apathy, blame, or judgment, however...  Sheesh.  I'm amazed I'm not more of a psychological mess.

Long time

I started another blog but didn't go live with it. 

Tomorrow I should find out the results of a blood test that will be the first, least invasive test to see whether there's cancer or some pre-cancer malignancy living in me.  There's something solid and uncomfortable, that's for sure.  It looked rough on the monitors, like some angry ball of might-be-trying-to-kill-me.  I haven't told many people.  I haven't said much at all about how worried I am or about how much I'm not looking forward to surgery - which is going to happen either way.  One fewer organ.  I'll say it here in this cobweb space of mine. 

I just wish I'd share this news with someone and they'd wrap their arms around me.  But mom, no.  Baby daddy, no. Friends, well, they found out over the phone so it's different.

But really.  I just want to be somewhere safe and warm in someone's arms.  So, like any single mom whose kids are at their dad's tonight, I took a bath.  Which, while unsympathetic, was at least warm.

The possibility of cancer though.  Man.  And what, this has been my life?  Hell. No.  I'm ready for real love and for sharing real joy.  Bring it the heck on.  I can't keep waiting.

Because I can't wait. 

Love

That moment when. You're been cryibg in bed for the last two hours and your sleeping babe reaches over and holds your hand in her sleep.

That moment when your students respond to a class bulletin about
your injury more lovingly and with more compassion than your spouse does.

Fair is foul and foul is fair.

I miss writing.

Glorybox

Sick, cystic, menstruating, and sunburnt.

I enjoy being a girl.

Emotions this day

Joy and loved and supported and understood and frustrated and peaceful and grateful and glad.  And overwhelmed but calm about it and engaged and proud and in between it all very tired.  And sometimes irritated by the noise and also love and loved and grateful again and still and always.

New

I'm back. And I plan to remain back.

John Boutte

The smell of empty warm beer glasses reminds me of mistakes in college.

Adele

This was all you, none of it me
You put your hands on, on my body and told me
Mmm
You told me you were ready
For the big one, for the big jump
I'd be your last love everlasting you and me
Mmm
That was what you told me

I'm giving you up
I've forgiven it all
You set me free-ee

Send my love to your new lover
Treat her better
We've gotta let go of all of our ghosts
We both know we ain't kids no more
Send my love to your new lover
Treat her better
We gotta let go of all of our ghosts
We both know we ain't kids no more

I was too strong you were trembling
You couldn't handle the hot heat rising (rising)
Mmm
Baby I'm still rising
I was running, you were walking
You couldn't keep up, you were falling down (down)
Mmm
Mmm there's only one way down

It's night but something in here smells like sun on cotton.

A thousand hidden viburnum bushes
breathe their fragrance across the highway
and I am grateful.

Confident

Life is amazing in that we can not know what we are or where we stood until we have moved.  

I've begun to perceive my own confidence and strength in new ways in the last year.  It's a more tender, honest way of holding my own self, cupped in my own outstretched hands.  I'm both more and less than I once thought.  And I love myself more.  A love that is more real that the brazen swagger I used to hide behind so much of the time.

Lawn mowers ate the grass around our neighborhood today.  Changes are in the air.

I really don't care for cake.

Five

Trying a new practice of recording my days in terms of each of my five senses.  So far, I like how sometimes it's ambiguous which sense goes with which experience.

I find that I'm always drawn to clothes the colors of earth and sky.  Also dust.

More bad medical news this week. This is becoming a pattern.

So.  I'm working on re-framing and reassessing.

I like noticing when people stop themselves from saying something.  Sometimes I'm nearly dead sure of what they were going to say; other times it is utter mystery.  Every time, I wish they would have just said it.

There is a mitten in the chandelier.  There is a chicken in the fireplace.  It's snowing in April.  My body is, quite literally, self destructing.  From the nerves in my left foot out.

I have almost as many pots with dead plants as I do with live plants.

WHAT IS GOING ON?!

As this cannot possibly be my life, stay tuned for necessary and potentially drastic changes.

Eye Doctor

Limits and Old Friends

Someone once called me "Limitless."

It's not true.

I said it wasn't true at the time, and at any other time a similar comment was made.  Nicely, of course, acknowledging the way it was meant as a compliment.  But I am the very picture of finite.  And even if, at the time, I had hoped that maybe it was true, now I know for sure that it wasn't.  It isn't.

Lately I've come up against more and more of my limits.  I don't know why other people in my life have such a hard time believing in my limits, but I really wish they could feel the crush of the limits the way I do.  Singed wings and lung constriction.

So here, world, I am declaring my limits.  I am limited in how much I can give, and bear, and forgive before I need (and yes, need) to step away in order to preserve my sanity and sense of self worth.  Yeah yeah yeah Christian forgiveness I know I know, but God is infinite.  I am finite.  I have a brain and a heart and neural networks and actual physical parts of my body that God designed and I'm telling you, He's designed them in such a way that coming up against some of this stuff so many times is going to do serious damage to me. It already has done damage.  And there's all that stuff about your body is your temple and that the body came first and then the spirit (That's in the gospel of John in some form, isn't it?  Something like that?  Help me out, scholars.  Comment if you know) that seems to run right up against all that forgive and love bears all and forgives all.  Lay down one's life for a friend.  Cut off the left hand.  It all becomes kind of tangled up when I apply it to my life.  And at the end of the day, I'm simply not God.  And I'm not supposed to be.  And maybe part of my problem all along has been that I'm trying to love like I have no limits and that won't ever work because the reality is that I'm very, very limited.  Add to those limits of bearing all the limits that come from my own rucksack fulla flaws I'm carrying around with me and it's not, in the words of D.J. Davis, tenable. (I'll always think of him when I use the word tenable).

I'd like to just get it across that I'm limited and struggling and that the things I accomplish all come at a cost.  This isn't easy for me.  I end my days worn the hell down.  And I guess I think that if some of the key players in my life could see me for the limited person I am, they would take a little less, nurture a little more, and I wouldn't feel so much like this:

The responsibility is mine, ultimately.  I know that.  I have to set boundaries (such a convenient term but seems to be so much harder than just putting up a fence or drawing a line in the sand).  Protect my time, fortify myself, surround myself with people who build me up or whatever.   That's all nice and good but it's not nearly as easy as it sounds.  Not with four kids, especially.  My resources, my time, my everything is limited, too.  Which makes it harder to stand up for the limits.  And I don't know if I'll ever be able to shake the sense that I have to be the rock for people to come to and lean on.  I like that role, to an extent.  The problem has always been that the rock-being is just not reciprocal as I need it to be.  Or that sense that most people just aren't all that interested in my stupid, cyclical, never-changing problems.  Hell, if I want to get away from them and they're my life, I can only imagine how enervating they are for other people to hear about over and over. 

But but but here's the cool thing that happened:

Yesterday, I hung out with an old friend from high school.  In all honesty, there were times we could be considered frenemies, but despite that, we've always had a lot in common.  In fact, the commonalities were probably what was really the root of any contention that existed in our adolescent selves.  I can't remember any real reasons for beef between us. 

But we've grown up and become mothers and built careers.  And yesterday we got together and laughed and it felt so good to just be limited around someone else.  We laughed so much, connecting over the joys and aggravations of motherhood, wifehood, labor, essential oils, inappropriate jokes about murder, you name it.  Rather than leaning on and drawing from, I just felt ease.

Suddenly hanging out with someone I haven't seen in person in almost fifteen years could have been awkward, I guess, but I knew in my gut that this wouldn't be.  And I came away from last night feeling seen and known... which is something I'm not used to experiencing on the regular.  How sad, that.  What a gift it was to see her and to lay my limits on the table next to the falafel salad and instead of "why why why no you can't yes you must but but but no you're wrong" there was "yes! and!"  And sitting across from the sometimes birdlike movements of hand and chin, and the familiar features that have been softened and made more beautiful in the fifteen+ years between our last shared meal, I felt a little more whole. 

So that's how it all pulls together, then.  To look at me without seeing my limits is not to see the whole me. It's like zooming in to a coloring book picture so much that you can't really tell what the picture is.  Like this, for instance:  What is it?  You can still color it and your mind can maybe make a guess, but without the seeing all the limits, all the outlines and edges, the picture is not complete.  

 You can zoom out a little more and get a better idea of what you're dealing with, but it's still not whole.

But once all the limits are known, the full image emerges.  I don't want to be a partial portrait, not to the people in my life who play the largest roles.  The lines, the limits, show you who I am. 

It's once again too late at night for my ideas to come together they way they did in stages throughout the day.  But one of my goals for break was to write here at least five times, so here it is.  Mess and limits and all.

Redeeming Columbus

I still maintain that Columbus pretty much sucks, but I discovered that there's a Neruda Street over by the Short North area.   That's worth something.

Yogahhhhh

Dude,  I miss yoga in ways so deep and big I am unable to find words.  My whole body is craving it. In fact, I haven't experienced this kinda of whole self desire in a long time.  Ahhhhhh! Broken foot, broken spirit!  Well,  it's not that bad yet, but holy Moses we're getting close!   It's making my adhd and crazy-fast-idea-brain much harder to control. 

So much to say.  So little time!

Goals

At age 71, Fred Astaire dances like this at the Academy Awards.  I'm going on two months with no dancing, no yoga, no walking to work... pretty miserable.  But watching this gives me hope.  I mean, surely with all the practice this guy had to do over his decades of performing, he sustained some injuries, right?  and here he is, 71 years old.  Damn.

The full set-up for the routine is here if you're curious. Start about 3 minutes in.:

Alright, well, back to nursing my fever from the mastitis.  Because the fun never ends.  I miss writing, too.  And sleep.

Please let me get my life back soon.

If this fever doesn't break and I stay home tomorrow, the plan is to write a few affirming notes to mail to some awesome folks in my life.  People who probably don't even know how awesome I think they are.  And I know that in my fever delirium, at least writing those notes will make me feel better.  Moe has awaken in my arms and petting my face with his sweet, soft baby hands while I type.  The mastitis is his fault, but I love him as much as ever.

I potently disagree with the belief that love is suffering.  Love, real love, overpowers suffering.  And that is how I'm able to sit here and nurse this toothy beast baby knowing he will probably bite me again (aaugh!  he did!  just now!  graahhhhh! augh ahhhh owie!!!!!) and I hate it and it hurts but I love him so much I'm willing to do it.  Love changes suffering.  

There are more thoughts here, but not to share tonight.  Okay, ice pack for the foot, hot pack for the boob, and fetal position for the back and let's break this fever.

Quote

"I will break your heart if I don't play Lala Loopsies and babies with you." Nora says.

Dictionary

Baby paws- Footprints on the bath mat

Nora's Dictionary

Ear ponks- earrings

Birthday horns - noise makers

There are more I don't remember from the last month but stay tuned for more.