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|Monday, August 8th, 2011|
My new kiddo. Who i got exactly 12 days before the end of the last school year, which turned out to be a (slightly insane) blessing. I had time to focus solely on her while my other babies chugged along with the routine that they are highly settled into.
Her tongue doesn't work. I'm sure there is a technical term for this. But that's essentially it. She can't manipulate food, manipulate sound, or swallow without effort. The table manners are eh to me, everyone in my room is a messy eater, they all have their eating issues, she's getting the nutrition she needs, yay occupational therapy, moving on. Its the talking that's getting me. She can produce sound but not modify it. This is okay in a lot of ways, I adore teaching sign language and she's picking it up quickly. there is picture communication which could be followed up with a speech computer. There are plenty of interactive, tactile, manipulative ways for me to teach math, science, history, and practical skills. The question is, how do i teach her to read? A lot of my kiddos don't have the potential to read, i really think this one does. I know how to assess her letter recognition, and it was so good that it brought tears to my eyes, i haven't had a kiddo with this much reading potential since L in '07. Assessing letters (and even sight words) is not the same thing as assessing sounds. Without her being able to tell me what each letter "says", what letter combinations say, what word is made when you blend these sounds together, and what word you recognize when i show it to you, how do i know what you can and can't read?
My gut says there must be a computer program for this, some speech path, some OT, some SPED teacher, someone made a solution for this, i just have to figure out what it is...
|Sunday, August 7th, 2011|
Hello, dear journal. Journal who won't judge me for being gone forever. For starting off as though I never left. For not explaining where I've been or who I am but just jumping right in.
So, married life? Well, essentially the same as unmarried life, except that for a few weeks there no one knew what my name was, including me. And i have in laws now. And this relationship will go on forever. That's the one that blows my mind. I realized that a name is just a name, i was shocked at how easy they are to change. And every big relationship comes with in laws, only you don't call them that. And permanence, it feels good. The number one feel good is the ability to talk about having kids. Like really talk about it. Gonna happen. Someday. It feels good to move in the right direction, to make big life changes with confidence. And yes, much as it makes me angry, to be supported by society for falling squarely into the norm. I'm angry for former me, for the ex, for the whole community of amazing, passionate, loving, deserving people that don't have the opportunity to be supported by family, friends, and strangers alike. But alas, here I am. And I'm glad for current me. And that's okay.
Everything I read says that marriage is different from love. It's way harder, it's more boring, it comes with more responsibility, and that it takes such hard work. All true i think. And it comes with love and security and great sex and partnership and, all totalled, at the end of the the day/year/lifetime, happiness. Overall happiness.
Another school year approaches. The longer I stay with this city the more I become aware of the oppressively off balance way that things often work here. The way that the people manipulate each other, the way problems get dealt with in 'creative' instead of 'standard' ways, the way that support is only there when it is convenient for the powers that be, the way that I am utterly alone in so many difficult decisions and situations. I've had about enough. And next year will not be easier than last year. My toughest cookie is returning and will be the same kid, with the same issues that has bigger and more complex needs than I can handle. I get one or two new kids who (par for the course) sound wonderful but high maintenance. My M and C will be back and amazing as always, I am hoping to have the energy and inspiration to give them everything that they deserve. I'm hoping to be able to bring their potential to light without other pettiness clogging it up. And the grown ups, oh the grown ups. I have no idea what the year holds. I'm going to do my best to concentrate on these beautiful children, be clear and assertive, and get through it so that hopefully when the year is done, I can move on to a place that won't leave me so unhappy.
Can't wait to sell the house. Can't wait to buy a house. Can't hardly stand to wait another second to start the beautiful adventure of kids. I'm waiting anyway.
|Sunday, February 6th, 2011|
From Somebody Else’s Kids by Torey Hayden
Because of my years in the self-contained classroom, I had that mysterious thing Birk called “experience.” Translated, it simply meant that I did not have the option to get upset, I should know better
I did not want to chase him. Whatever little bit of lunacy this was, I did not want to be a party to it. My greatest concern was the door. Within minutes, Boo had completely stripped and now capered around in naked glee. I had not enjoyed chasing him the first time when he had been fuilly clothed. I could just imagine doing it now. This was a nice, middle-class, sedate and slightly boring elementary school without any classes of crazy kids in it. Dan Marshall, the principal, swell guy that he was, would have an apoplectic fit if some kid streaked down one of his corridors. I would hate to be the cause of that.
“And with all due respect and credit to what you’re trying to do, Torey, I can’t see it myself. Giving her all that extra help when nobody else gets it. It’s a waste of time on some kids. I’ve been in the business a long time now, and believe me, you get so you can tell who’s going to make it and who isn’t. I just cannot understand spending all the extra time and money on these little slowies who’ll never amount to anything. So many other children would profit from it more.”
I rose to wrestle a can of Dr. Pepper out of the machine. The right thing to do would have been to correct Edna, because to my way of thinking at least, she was dead wrong. The cowardly thing was to get up and go fight the pop machine. Yet that is what I did. I was, admittedly, a little afraid of Edna. She could speak her mind so easily, she seemed so confident about her beliefs. And she possessed so much of the only thing I had found valuable as an educator: experience. In the face of that, I was left uncertain and questioned my own perceptions. So I took the coward’s way out.
Boo remained a dream child. As so many autistic-like children I had known, he possessed uncanny physical beauty; he seemed too beautiful to belong to this everyday world. Perhaps he did not. Sometimes I thought that he and others like him were the changelings spoken of in old stories. It was never inconceivable to me that he might truly be a fairy child spirited from the cold, bright beauty of his world, trapped in mine and never quite able to reconcile the two. And I always noticed that when we finally reached through to an autistic or schitzophrenic child, if we ever did, that they lost some of that beauty as they took on ordinary interactions, as if we had in some way sullied them. But as for Boo, thus far I had failed to touch him, and his beauty lay upon him with the shining stillness of a dream.
Once long ago when I was a very little girl I told my mother that when I grew up was going to be a witch and marry a dinosaur. At four that seemed a marvelous plan. I adored playing witch in the backyard with my friends and I was passionately interested in dinosaurs. There could be no better life than one in which I could do what I loved doing and live with one I found immensely fascinating.
I haven’t changed a lot in that respect. Somewhere deep inside there is still a small four-year-old looking for her dinosaur. And there was no denying that the single hardest task as my career progressed had become synchronizing life with the kids with the remainder of my life outside school.
The task did not seem to be getting any easier. I know I did not help things much. I loved my work profoundly. It stretched me to the very limits of my being. The time spent within the walls of my classroom had formed fully my views of life and death, of love and hate, of justice, reality, and the unrestrained brutal beauty of the human spirit. It had given me my understanding of the meaning of existence. And in the end, it had put me at ease with myself. I had become the sort of person who got home Fridays and waited anxiously for Mondays.
That kind of intensity was hard to compete with. I tried to step back from it and appreciate the slower, less rabid hours that I spent outside school but I knew my appetite for the extreme, both mentally and emotionally, made me a complicated companion.
Tomaso glared. His shoulders pulled up under the black jacket. “You hate me, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t hate you. We don’t even know one another.”
Abruptly Tomaso jerked around and grabbed a chair. Twirling it briefly above his head, he then let loose and sent it flying across the room and into the finches’ cage. The birds fluttered as the cage swayed wildly, but it did not tip over. Lori squealed in surprise. Boo dove under the work table.
This reaction seemed to please Tomaso. He set off on a rampage. Tearing from one side of the room to the other before I even had a chance to move from the door, he flung books off the shelves, cleared the top of my desk with a swoop of his arm, ripped Lori’s work folder into quarters and threw it into the air like confetti. Another chair went flying. Luckily it only grazed the west wall of windows and fell harmlessly to the floor. Once he started, I remained against the door and did not move. I was fearful of inciting him further. Or letting him get loose outside the room.
Tomaso stopped and turned back to me. “There. Now you hate me, don’t you?”
“I’m not precisely in love with you for doing that, if that’s what you mean,” I replied. “But I don’t hate you and I don’t like your working so hard to make me do so.”
“But you’re mad, aren’t you? I made you mad, didn’t I?”
Cripes, what did this kid want? I had no idea what to say to him. I was not mad. I did not hate him. Terror was more along the lines of what I was feeling right then, but I was not going to admit that either. My palms had gotten cold and damp and I wiped them on my jeans. Birk did not prepare me at all for this one.
“I bet you think I feel sorry I done that,” he said. “Well, I don’t. Here, let me show you.” He grabbed a potted geranium off the counter and crashed it to the floor. “There.”
Still with my back to the door to keep him contained in the room, I did not move. My mind was going at the speed of light, trying desperately to sort out viable alternatives before the kid wrecked my entire room. Or worse, decided to hurt someone. My inaction was not so much from indecision as it was from fear of consequences if I made the wrong move. I did not reckon this boy gave much opportunity for replay.
“Jesus, what’s wrong with you?” he said. “Cat got your tongue? Why don’t you say something? Why don’t you get mad? Aren’t you normal or something? Are you some kind of fucking crazy teacher?”
“I’m not going to let you make me angry Tomaso. I don’t want to feel that way.”
“You don’t? You don’t?” He sounded outraged. “What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you go ahead and hate me like everybody else does/ What makes you think you’re so special?”
“Tomaso, sit down. Take off your jacket and sit down. It’s time we got started on the afternoon’s work.”
Reaching down for a piece of the broken pot, he lofted it at me. Not a serious throw in my opinion. I imagine if he had meant it, he would have hit me. We were not that far apart, and I doubted that he missed when he aimed.
“What are you going to do about me? Are you going to suspend me? Are you going to get the principal?”
“No, I’m just going to wait until you decide it’s time to work.”
“Hey man, I ain’t never gonna decide that, so you might as well just give up.”
I waited. Sweat was running down along my sides and I pressed my arms against my body to stop it.
“At my other school they called the police. They took me to juvie. So you can’t scare me.”
“I’m not trying to scare you, Tomaso.”
“I don’t care what you’re trying to do. I don’t care about anything.”
“I’m just waiting, that’s all.”
“you can send me to the principal, if you want. And he can give me whacks. You think I haven’t had whacks before? I’ve had a million of them. And you think I care?”
I waited without saying anything. My stomach reminded me of the price I was paying for a calm exterior.
“I could bite your titties off”
My back against the coolness of the glass in the door, I waited.
“Hmmf. Mmmmmmph. Pphuh.” Tomaso was full of noises when I would not talk back to him. He was not ready to give in yet. Still too much pride at stake. And God only knows what else.
My gut feeling was that Tomaso did not really want to leave. No single thing I could put my finger on told me that, but I felt it. I studied him carefully.
Sometimes I think I missed my calling. I should have been a swindler. In the end, my best defense always seemed to come down to the good con game I play. My gut told me this boy was hot air. That was enough to go on. I pushed myself off the door and walked by him to the other side of the room. Righting chairs and slinging paper back onto my desk, I sat down at the work table. Reaching under, I pulled Boo out and sat him down in a chair. Then I beckoned Lori over and took out her L and O flashcards. My stomach was doing the cha-cha, a surefire clue to the extent of my concern for winning this game of psychological bunco. If he chose to walk out the door I would have no alternative but to go out and physically drag him back in. That would be a really lousy way to start any relationship. All I was operating on was a hunch. A hunch about a kid I did not even know.
|Monday, May 18th, 2009|
I can't sleep. For the first time in probably years, seeing as sleeping is totally my forte. So many things are in my head that I can't seem to settle. Time to write.
My relationship is ending. And I'm so ready. I'm so tired of fighting, so tired of justifying, of struggling for control, of trying to be nice when I don't feel nice at all, of taking care of so much and having so little take care of me. And I don't feel selfish. I truly believe that what I've been going through this past year is far less than I deserve and that there is something better out there and that I need to challenge myself to step up and find it. It's a bit sad because she says this is the best relationship she's ever had and that if we can just do this, if we can just do that, if we can just try a little harder then it will all work out. But what I can't say to her is that this is the worst relationship I've ever had and that there are relationships out there where you don't have to battle every day to bite your tongue, where there isn't this huge ball of resentment between you. There are relationships without fighting all the time and I know because I've been in them. I have messed up all kinds of relationships for some really wrong reasons but this one, this one I'm leaving for the right reasons. I'm ready.
I have IEP meetings tomorrow. and all sorts of thoughts of next year. The simple fact is, we've got more coming our way in terms of high-maintenance kids than we can possible handle, and something has to be done and no one knows what it is that should happen. The administration has their hands tied, as do I, and certainly as does the budget. I'm scared that in doing what is best for the children (which I will inevitably do, come hell or high water), I'm going to compromise all the friendships and cohesion and happiness that is the group of adults working in my classroom. They may never forgive me for what I may have to do next year to keep all these children safe and cared for. It's freaking me out.
But I had a lovely weekend. I waited tables at the diner on saturday and made good money and felt like I totally knew what I was doing despite it being only my second time waitressing, and it still feels really good to work really hard. I have a real sense of accomplishment when I work there. And they like me, and count on me, and think I'm good at what I do. That feels good too.
Saturday night I went with Gaston to get his puppy, which is the cutest thing on the planet, and then we went out with Mel to the farm to work on the horses because she had a show today. We showed up at the house around 9:30pm and hiked through the mud up to get Cavy. I brought him down and we began bathing him in the dark as a storm was rolling in. The trees were blowing and the water was cold and Cavy wanted none of it, but I held him and all the horsemanship skills came right back to me, and with a bit of singing and a bit of walking in circles and a lot of muscle, he stood for his bath. He walked right with me back up to the barn and it began to lightning and pour down rain. Mel and I scrubbed his white spots and I brushed his mane out and she shaved his whiskers and we finally put a blanket on him and Leo and put Cavy in and Leo out and then we sat in the tack room to wait out the storm. We sat on crates and boxes and lounged in the scent of leather and dust and talked as the rain came down outside. Finally we gave up on the rain stopping and ventured out and ran across the field streaming with water and mud and we splashed and laughed and got soaking wet and muddy to our knees and the water was soaking through my jeans and dripping from the brim of my hat and the braids in my hair and I couldn't quit laughing, I haven't felt so alive in so long.
Today I got to help plan a baby shower for my soon-to-be-favorite-little-person. And then I went shopping and bought cute little clothes and a blanket for the crib and began picking out little shower things and decided on how to refinish the changing table, and I'm longing for everything to happen all at once, but at the same time, I'm slowing down to savor each bit and admire each detail and smile. I can't wait to meet him.
Sigh. I'm looking forward to freedom. And finding again all those relationships that I've been not allowed to keep up with, all those friends that I've been so dearly missing, and all the new ones that I've been wanting to know better.
|Monday, April 13th, 2009|
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about religion. The Unitarian church has been a blessing to me. It is amazing to be around a group of people who want to think and debate and reason and figure things out for themselves. We went on Sunday because it was Easter and R felt strongly about going. The service was an essay, taken from a feminist book, and it was an adaptation of the story of Christ’s death and resurrection. It was told from the point of view of Mary Magdaline.
You can read it here http://books.google.com/books?id=Jvlmr5ePKnsC&pg=PA8&dq=Mary+Magdalene%27s+Witness#PPA8,M1
When I asked R what she thought of the whole service afterwards, she said “I thought it was sacriligious”. And I wanted to cry. My heart sank and I realized that though we are quiet about it, she and I are very different, and though she has tucked it away neatly for the sake of us, she believes that one set of things is right and one set wrong and that’s the way it is, period, the end. I realized that this church may not be a possibility for her and that it may become a point of contention if I decide that it is for me.
When we got home, with fear in my heart, I tried to explain it to her. I said, if I were to take you outside right now, point upward, and tell you ‘look, that’s the sky, and it’s purple.’, you would have two options. You could say ‘no it’s not, it’s blue. That’s just a fact, it always has been blue, it always will be blue, you must be crazy’ or, you could stop, and wonder. You could wonder why I think it’s purple, you could wonder if my eyes function differently than yours or if my brain just knows a different word for the same color. You could stop and wonder whether purple is right and blue is wrong or whether blue is right and purple is wrong. You could decide at the end that both might be equally likely. You could like me anyway. We could both like the sky. We could decide not to discuss its color and simply talk about the clouds and the wind and the rain and the things we agree on. Or we could go on forever, you talking blue, me talking purple, and not letting it bother us that we think of it differently. Whatever the truth is, it will still be there, it will not change because of us, or the way we think of it, or what we call it, or how we feel about it.
|Monday, March 16th, 2009|
|Hi, I still exist.
It's crazy to think it's been almost a year. I'm soon to go caving again, as it stands that was still one of the most profoundly beautiful experiences of my life.
Hmm.. this year... Summer held a whirwind trip to London and Paris. In London I reconnected with Uncle John and cousin Patrick and renewed my sense of awe and comraderie and love for them both. I also spent a lot of time on my own, wandering a foreign city and navigating new places and eating at a table for one and seeing sights at my own pace and taking all the pictures i could stand to take and feeling free. It was beautiful and empowering and very much good for me. Paris was with my mother, which was typical of a vacation with my mother. Very scheduled, very expensive, very touristy, but very nice. Paris was bustling and colorful and flavorful and yes, a bit stuck up. My French was adequate to get us places and order us food and thank people for things and apologize for my botching of their language.
The new school year brought me a class of 4 kids, all 4 of which I had last year. My L moved up to middle school, my K moved on to Stafford County. So it's me and M and C and T and E. They amaze me every day. They energize me and make me smile and laugh and remember what's important and what innocence and happiness are like. So far this year, M has become healthier, he's learned how to play new games, he's been working on his muscular strength in hopes of moving independently someday. C has made leaps and bounds and is walking with the help of new shoes and new equipment and new motivation. He's also learned to clap and wave and in some ways, interact with the world like never before. T has grown up so much, she's calmed and thinks before acting more often, and she's learned who not to play games with (namely me) because she's realized it doesn't work, and our lives are much happier for that. E lights up the room as always. His sense of humor, his flirtation, his perserverance, his sense of adventure inspire me. He has gotten a donated power chair which we have dubbed 'the Corvette', that he's learning to drive. He's talking more and more and being understood more and more. He is, as always, my guy that jumps in with both feet, whether it's painting or singing or swimming or pulling out pumpkin goo, he's in, and he's reminding me that I'm like that too.
The grown ups in my room have finally, finally come to rest in the right places. After many attempts at staffing and several drastic failures, we finally have it right. I am the youngest in the room, so needless to say, being in charge of all these older people is totally the socially weirdest thing I think I've experienced. I have Ms. Fox, who is my right hand, she jumps in where I forget to, she loves the children gently and unconditionally, she is a 'mom' to me when she thinks i need it. I have Ms. Hawkins, who is the rock that we count on. She is there every day, is pleasant to everyone, is impossible to ruffle, and is a constant source of peace and wisdom. I try to tell her as often as I can that I don't know what I'd do without her. I also have Ms. Hyde, our newest addition. She's spunky and laughs all the time and makes the rest of us wake up and have fun and not sweat the small stuff. She's totally good for us and I'm so glad we found her.
I'm still with Robbin, we've been through ups and downs and everything in between, but I think recently we've been experiencing a new sensation of hope and inspiration. We've been working on us and prioritizing us and doing things for ourselves and loving each other fiercely. I think it took me all this time to finally swallow the fact that relationships are hard and that life never just calms down and that you wake up every day and decide who you're going to be, and that if you're not happy with who you are, you've gotta decide to be different and make it so. So that's what I'm working on. Not getting angry every time I feel that I have the right to. Not making things personal that aren't. Letting go of the past and the little stuff that doesn't matter. And hanging on to the fact that we are good together and that we can get through anything if we decide that we're going to.
For the first time this year, someone (other than my mother) has taken the fact that I am gay, decided that it is a weakness of mine, and decided that that would be the best way to hurt me. Things were said, accusations were made, and i came face to face with how vengeful, childish, and shocking an ignorant person with a grudge can be. Thankfully the rest of the world around me is not childish, not ignorant, and not believing a word of it. Life moved on quietly, everyone stood strongly behind me, and they gave me the strength to hold my head up and walk away. I will continue to do so.
My good friend Sarah is having a baby. It's going to be a little boy. I have floods of memories of Jake and how insanely I end up loving babies that are in my life, and how much I want one of my own when it becomes possible. I'm also working through the differences between who she is and how she does things and who I am and how I do things, and I'm trying hard to not blame her for things that are out of her control, things like the fact that I don't have a baby and won't any time soon. I'm trying to focus on things like the fact that she's going to be an amazing mom and she's going to raise an incredible little person who will go out in the world and do great things, and win hearts all along the way.
Oh, and on July 3rd, my very first gallery showing of my photography will be at The Griffin on Caroline Street in downtown Fredericksburg. If by chance you'll be in town, please come join us. My work will be up for the whole month of July, but if you want to join in the opening party and actually see me, you should come on the 3rd =)
K, so I'm a little caught up. Hopefully more to come someday soon. I haven't forgotten you all, really.
Love to all
|Monday, May 26th, 2008|
|Caving Day 2
Well, Tawney’s was awesome. It was much muddier and less rocky than Rehobeth, and therefore it had some tricky spots that I may not have successfully climbed without a hand from the boys ahead of me, but it was more beautiful. It had huge formations and the gorgeous moon room with the crescent of water around the edge of the room and the moon shaped crevice in the ceiling. My body wasn’t sure it wanted to undergo another day of that when I got up that morning, but I heard my father’s voice in my head saying ‘this may be the only shot you get at this kiddo, better think it over’. And so I put on a happy face, told everyone I felt great (when in fact I still had a pretty wicked headache from what I now think was dehydration), drank lots of water, had a banana with breakfast (and to potassium’s credit my leg muscles didn’t revolt), stretched well, and headed for the cave.
This trip was beautiful and profound and I wish I could repeat it a thousand times over. While sitting in the darkness of the cave, I realized that this was the only pure darkness I’d ever seen. I reflected on blindness and what some of its terrifying aspects and beautiful aspects must be. I looked up and around at the inside of the earth, at the way nature had created this and people, for once, had been wise enough to leave nothing of themselves behind in it. This was what the earth looked like before us. Before humans came and brought all this noise and light and pollution. This place, where the air and water and light and creatures and time and space all live quietly, humbly alongside each other. I was privileged to have seen it, humbled by its beauty, and proud to be among the many smart people that left no trace of myself behind in it.
|Saturday, May 24th, 2008|
|Caving Day 1
Today was incredible. We all stumbled up to the big house around 8 this morning and made omelets in bags and sat and ate and regrouped, and they finally decided upon a cave, and we set off around 10:15. It was a long drive, up into west Virginia, but once we got there, we toured the property that housed the oldest Methodist church this side of the Appalachians. We scouted out our cave, got gear on (suits, helmets, lights, gloves, knee pads) and set off. We crawled under the fence to get to the path, then we had to figure out which was the correct entrance to the cave. The one Kit and I went down into turned out to not be the way in, and getting back out of it was tricky, and for a little bit, I doubted whether or not I was going to be able to do this. We followed Randy down into the other entrance, and the first 6 feet were TIGHT. We had to wiggle and squirm and army crawl to get down through it, but once we did, it opened up a good bit, and we began our descent. The whole climb was up and down boulders and ledges and inclines, the cave was tall enough to stand in, but there were very few spots that were flat enough to stand on without holding onto something. I met bats for the first time up close, they’ve very cute and tiny when they sleep, and none of them bothered us in the least. I can tell how easy it would be to get lost in there, even with the markings that someone had left before us, without friends that were pretty confident about it and a rope leading us out the last 50 feet, I’m not sure how that would have gone. We saw beautiful formations, lots of bats and crayfish and cave spiders, and did some tough climbing. I was afraid that my knees wouldn’t handle coming out, but this climb was blessed with lots of good hand holds, so it seemed that whenever one part of me failed, another compensated well, and my climb was really pretty smooth. Our group did a good job at communicating and keeping close to each other. Nick ventured off on his own, but I stayed close to keep sight of him, and then when I was done and ready to rest, Kit stayed with me while the boys went on together. Anyways, when it was time to get out, most of it went okay going up, but those last 6 feet, man, I didn’t think I’d ever get out of there. I twisted and turned, and there was one spot that was almost vertical, I was on my belly on this muddy incline, and there were no footholds below me, and not enough space under me to get my knees, much less my feet under me, and I couldn’t go anywhere. Eventually I wiggled my way up, got a leg torqued up beside me, and gave a mighty push and got free of it, but those last 6 feet getting out was killer. I told Kit once I was out that at one point I thought to myself ‘I can’t do this’ shortly followed by ‘I don’t suppose I have much of a choice tho do I?’ One reason I think I like this sport, there’s no turning back. Do or do not, there is no try. Lol. I feel like I’m in okay physical shape after all, I mean their driveway still leaves me huffing and puffing, but climbing didn’t phase me at all, I was fine. Even Nick said he was sore, but climbing all came back to me. After getting out, we stripped down to our lower layers, ate a sandwich and lounged in the sun, and then got back on the road. I had a raging headache after we got back that lasted a couple hours, I ended up asleep on the couch in the big house while they prepped dinner, and finally someone woke me and I managed to eat and drink and be upright for a while, but after dinner I excused myself, and now I’m back in the loft in the little house, getting ready to crash completely. We’re supposed to be up and out of here by 9am tomorrow to go climb through Tawney’s. Sounds like fun, hope I’m feeling better before then. Goodnight
|Friday, May 23rd, 2008|
|And we're off
Well, I’m in Kit’s car, suitcase in the trunk, headed down the highway towards adventure. I’m proud of myself. I jumped on an opportunity to do something I’ve never done with people I’ve never met in a place I’ve never been to. And I’m not afraid. I’m excited. And I think this might open doors for me. I think this church sounds pretty amazing, and I’m looking forward to slowly immersing myself in something new and seeing where it leads me.
So far so good. Nice folks, turns out the place I chose for my sleeping bag is the boys’ room, but I don’t plan on moving it, it’s in the room with the carpet. My mother would be appalled. Their house is gorgeous, animals are awesome, and it sounds like it’s going to be a great day tomorrow. =)
|Saturday, May 17th, 2008|
This has been a sociologically interesting 24 hours. We went to Clearwater Grill last night for karaoke, and it was pleasant as always for the first little while, and then the Coors Light folks showed up. A middle aged man who apparently is a promoter, and two young girls/women. It started out with the girls hanging on all the guys in the bar, which was bearable (although not appreciated by M and S, whose husbands were being approached). Then they danced together, which was fine. Then they danced all up on each other, with their ‘promoter’ holding onto both of them. We talked amongst ourselves at the table, and we all agreed upon being disgusted and said that we were going to tell the manager so. I asked Nick to send the manager to the table, and he came back a while later and said that he couldn’t find him, which I thought was bullshit. I ordered a beer and tried to chill out, and then the girls kissed each other, still with this middle aged man wrapped around them, and I immediately saw red, and M and S and E all immediately stood up from the table, and I realized that they were just as angry, and at that point E and I went to find the female manager. We gave her a piece of our minds and let her know that she had better get that male manager (because she said he was above her), and get him to do something about this, like now. She found him, and apparently he said he was working on it. Well at this point, the girls are on the dance floor, kissing each other, with hands roaming up each others’ skirts, and being generally very offensive. I couldn’t watch it anymore. I was on the verge of tears. I walked up to Jeff, the manager and said “WHAT ARE YOU DOING ABOUT THIS!?” and he reassured me that he was working on it, and I told him he was about to lose some very regular customers, and that if this went on I was walking out. Thankfully he did take care of it, and the two girls left, and everyone seemed happier for it. It’s people like them that convince the ignorant parts of the rest of the world that lesbian is synonomous with for-male-pleasure-girl-on-girl-action. It’s things like that that cause lesbians (and women in general) to be harassed and degraded and disrespected, and the fact that is was right there in front of me made me want to drag them out the back door and tell them exactly what I thought of them. Here we are, in this day and age when we (the GLBT community) are still fighting to be able to walk into a bar holding hands, to be able to visit loved ones in the hospital (although that’s come a long way), to have the rights that straight people have, and here are these two straight girls humping each other on the dance floor so that a couple of men in the bar could get a hard on from watching. It made me nauseous.
Anyways, then this morning I was at Wal Mart by myself, getting picnic supplies, and the realization hit me that people now assume that I’m straight. I don’t know what changed other than my hair, but people are different than they used to be. I have regained the right to smile at peoples’ children. I have regained the right to have a conversation with a woman and not be suspect. I have regained the right to have a man say to me “excuse me sweetheart” when walking by me instead of having him glare and intentionally run into my shoulder. I have rejoined the rest of the world without meaning to. It makes me angry. I am the exact same person I was with short hair, only now people don’t realize. It makes me want to cut all my hair right back off and keep it that way until the world comes to its senses, quits being childish, and becomes accepting of people and their differences.
|Thursday, May 15th, 2008|
Yay California, where I could now go and get married to a woman of my dreams, and live by the ocean. If I decide to be with a woman again someday.
I miss the smell of someone else. I miss someone's hands in my hair, I miss putting an arm around someone to go to sleep, I miss bare feet playing together, I miss kissing a bare shoulder while laying behind them in bed, I miss matching my breathing to someone else's. I miss giving and receiving little pieces of someone else's hopes and dreams and happinesses and sadnesses and life. I really suck at being alone.
If I'm not ready to be with someone (which seems to be the case) then I wish I had someone safe to vent some of this attention on. Someone who will allow me to be physically near them without needing. Without pushing. Without pulling. Without stealing. Without hurting. *sigh*
|Sunday, May 4th, 2008|
My Friday was busy. I got out of school at 3:45ish, ran home to pick up baby stuff (for my very small visitor that is coming to hang out next week), made it south to Richmond and to Doc's new office by 5:15. An hour's worth of appointment later we had talked about setting boundaries with my mother (which I've been attempting to do for, oh, about 12 years now). Left to go to my parents' house, dropped off baby stuff, talked them into going out for subs, ate with them, called Richmond peeps, caught up with Allison first and showed off bridesmaid's jewelry that I made for Meg's June wedding. Left their house around 9:30, went to pick up Willard. We drove with the windows down and sang which felt so damn good. It's amazing what just driving and singing does to make me feel peaceful and happy and free. We decided to re-live old times and go hang out at the park. Parked outside the gates and hiked in, found the pier, and sat, and breathed night air, and listened to the river, and identified each object floating by (must have been alligators and snakes, and the loch ness monster). It felt really good to curl up in someone's arms without ulterior motives or complication. We were both just soaking up the simplicity of sitting on the pier and being surrounded by a beautiful night. Brought him home around 12:30, began driving towards the highway, repeatedly fell asleep at the wheel, and stopped at Carytown to park and sleep. Woke up around 3, and drove on home. My Saturday was busy. I got home from Richmond around 4am Saturday morning, slept until 9ish, cooked and packed a big breakfast, showered, got into uniform, packed beverages, folding chairs, and stopped at Wawa to get cash. Made it to the station around 10:30, had breakfast with squad boys (who were in withdrawal from not having my muffins in so long), threw everything into the unit and went to school. The health fair was okay, kinda small, most of it was inside. We were outside along with the old folks running the Lions Club screening van. FD didn't show up until noonish from what I thought was an MVA turned fly-out in downtown, so it was just us, hangin out. We showed the unit to a bunch of my school kids, they all seemed impressed with the roller blading skills I showed off on Thursday at the school's skate night, and they all were kind of surprised to see me there with an ambulance. I think I'm scoring cool points with the 10 year old crowd. lol. Anyway, the health fair wrapped up about two (a good amount of time for an almost-tan), we went to put gas in the truck before coming back to the station, made it back there about 2:30, i had an hour and a half to shop for a gift, make it home, wrap the gift, make fruit salad, de-uniform, and get to Em and Mina's place. Well I did my shopping at Wal Mart (in uniform, always a thrill), got halfway home when my gas light came on, so I stopped at Wawa again (still in uniform), I'm halfway through filling up my tank when a jeep backs up, squeals his tires, and shuts off his engine, and I laughed thinking he stalled it, then when he got out and walked around the back of his car I peeked around the gas pump to see somebody's head behind the Jeep and thought 'oh shit, here we go'. Put gas nozzle back in pump, run across parking lot, yell at people to get on the phone with dispatch/find this dude's wife/get my bag out of my trunk. I hold C-spine and try to talk to this old guy, who is almost deaf especially without one of his now-broken hearing aids. He has a huge goose egg on the back of his head from hitting the pavement, and upon rapid trauma assessment I find that he's messed up his elbow too and it's bleeding like crazy, and all the while he's saying "I'm fine, I'm a marine, I'm fine, you leave me alone". I wanted to tell him 'you were a marine 50 years ago and you'd better lay down', but I took the sweet talking route instead which is almost invariably more effective. Some high school ROTC pain in the ass decided he knew all about everything and repeatedly tried to tell me how to treat/assess this guy and I finally had to tell him to get away from my patient because he was wrecking my groove. Anyway, I had someone else take over C-spine and I finished assessing, and by that time Spotsy showed up and took over, and I happily paid for my gas, washed my hands up to the elbows and hauled ass home (at this point I'm late and bloody). So I called Em, told her that lateness was unavoidable, added a shower to my list of things to do, ran around the house doing things like a chicken, and finally got everything done and made it to the party, where I sat and drank and chilled and had a lovely time. And today, aside from cleaning the house and lounging on the patio with the dog, I am happily doing nothing. =) Tomorrow is IEP writing day. I am looking forward to things being a thousand times easier than they were last year. Starting with the fact that they give me an IEP writing day, how great is that. I get a day off to fill out these ~250 pages of paperwork. Totally cool of them. I love my job.
|Sunday, April 27th, 2008|
Ripped and downloaded music last night and relived many years of my life. It’s amazing how strong my feelings connected to music are, I have wrapped my whole life up in it.
Got Blessed Union:
“And Oh, I’m just lucky to be here. I can’t believe I got this far. And if I stop along the way to shed a tear, I’m sorry, but I thought I saw my dream. Oh, I’m just lucky to be here. I’d gladly stay a thousand years. Breathe your love into this union of souls, and I’ll just write the words.”
“May every star you wish upon and every hope you’re hanging on come true. Out of everybody in the world, there’s no one who deserves it more than you. I hope you find everything you’ve been dreaming of. Only good things, no in betweens, just peace and love.”
Reminds me of leaving easter seals and all the amazing people that I found there. The way that place rejuvenated my soul and gave me purpose and self respect. I think easter seals decided the direction my life would go in, and I don’t know if I would have had that direction without them.
“Walk blindly to the light and reach out for his hand. Don’t ask any questions and don’t try to understand. Open up your mind and then open up your heart, and you will see that you and me aren’t very far apart. And I believe, that love is the answer. I believe that love will find a way. I believe, that love is the answer. I believe, that love will find a way.”
I decided a long time ago that I would not be like her. I would not categorically hate people. I would become aware of the prejudices in me and fight them with all I was worth.
“I want a road stretching out before me. I want a radio in my ear. I want a full tank of absolution. And no fear. I want a rainstorm to bowl me over and a sky that begins to clear, towards the truest of destinations, no fear. I used to hit every wall there was, I used to run away from love. All I ever wanted was right here. But I had to reach way down inside, I had to have faith I’d find no fear.”
This song has played through every major change I have made in my life. It is the mantra of ‘I can do this’ and it reminds me what I’m fighting for in my own head. It is, after all, the truest of destinations.
“I used to believe that things would change but here we go again. Riding a spinning carousel this circle never ends. This kitchen table has seen it all before, these walls are tired of standing, can’t hold us anymore. One Mississippi I close my eyes, two Mississippi I’m begging you that we can still survive. Three Mississippi no lookin back, gone for good and I know that. I won’t change my mind, three Mississippi is where I’m at tonight. We’re all out of second chances and all out of one more times. There’s not a word we haven’t said, nothing we have not tried. My bones are aching from the weight I’m holding down. I took all that I’m taking, I’m breaking, breaking down.”
This is the breakup song that I started with Matt and found quite appropriate with Robbin. This is how I end most relationships. Not angry, but exhausted. Had enough. Can’t take another step. Can’t do another thing. Can’t talk about the same thing one more time. Just done.
“Driving away from the wreck of the day and the light’s always red in the rear view. Desperately close to a coffin I’ve all but cheated destiny just to be near you. If this is giving up, then I’m giving up. If this is giving up, then I’m giving up, giving up on love.”
The notes of hopelessness I often feel when a relationship or even a love interest fails, because I do put my everything into it, and then when it fails, I have nothing and am driving home, defeated and empty.
“2am and she calls me cuz I’m still awake, can you help me unravel my latest mistake, I don’t love him, winter just wasn’t my season. And we walk through the doors so accusing their eyes like they have any right at all to criticize. Hypocrites, you’re all here for the very same reason. Cuz you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable and life’s like an hourglass glued to the table. No one can find the rewind button, girl, so just cradle your head in your hands, and breathe. Breathe. Just breathe.”
I think every woman on the planet relates to this song somehow. It reminds me of a lot. The good female friends I’ve had over the years and those, the best talks there can be where you open up and lay it all out and feel safe in doing so. I miss that. The accusing eyes is what being outwardly gay often feels like. You walk into a room and feel peoples’ hatred of you though you’ve never met them, and the feeling that wells up inside you in response is hard to describe, but definitely brings to mind the word hypocrisy. The words ‘just breathe’ are ones that I should have tattooed on me somewhere prominent, so that I can look at it and think about it, and remember to take things one step at a time and that I will survive whatever this is, and to put it in it’s place.
“I’ve tripped again and things are starting to get interesting, don’t give me choices cuz I can’t decide. My mind is soaked in words I’ve come to terms with all my insecurities cuz purity’s no friend of mine. And dreaming doesn’t do no good cuz I don’t wanna lie that I’m okay and I’m alright I’d rather take it and forget it. Consider this a warning. Cuz I’ll start another fight and you’ll say it’s all alright, I’ll wait for the day when you find I’m too much for you baby.”
This is where I am with relationships right now, and where I have been in the past. I remember telling people ‘don’t fall for me, I’m messed up, you don’t need this in your life.’ And the amazing people that have loved me over the years didn’t listen. And it turned out to be true in the end. But I don’t regret them, hopefully they don’t regret me.
“If I could make it rain today, and was away this sunny day down to the gutter, I would, just to get a change of pace. Things are getting worse, but I feel a lot better, and that’s all that really matters to me. Amy hit the atmosphere, caught herself a rocket ride out of this gutter, and she’s never coming back I fear, any time it rains she just feels a lot better, and that’s all that really matters to me. We’ve waited so long for someone to take us back home. It just takes so long. Meanwhile the days are drifting away, and some of us sink like a stone. Waiting for mothers to come. There has to be a change I’m sure. Today was just a day fading into another, and that can’t be what a life is for. One of the things she said is that she feels a lot better, and that’s all that really matters to me. We’ve waited so long for someone to take us back home. It just takes so long, meanwhile the days go drifting away, and some of us sink like a stone. Waiting for mothers to come.”
From the messed up high school days, with messed up friends that popped pills and talked suicide. We really were in a hole and had no way of getting out. We lived day to day and hated our existence. I sometimes miss them, my dear lost boys, but whenever I talk to one, I immediately remember why I left them and didn’t look back. They are still there, stuck in that hole, and I climbed out. We will never know each other again. Not really.
“Walk out the front door like a ghost into a fog, where no one notices the contrast of white on white. In between the moon and you the angels get a better view of the crumbling difference between wrong and right. I walk in the air between the rain, through myself and back again, where? I don’t know. Around here, we all look the same. Around here, something radiates.”
High school, hopeless, messed up high school.
“She is trapped inside a month of gray, and they take a little every day. She is a victim of her own responses, shackled to a heart that wants to settle and then runs away. It’s a sin to be fading endlessly, but she’s alright with me. She is leaving on a walkaway. She is leaving me in disarray, in the absence of a place to be she stands there looking back at me, and hesitates, then turns away. She’ll change so suddenly, she’s just like mercury, yeah, but she’s alright with me.”
I always identified myself by this song, and I always saw it from the point of view of someone who loved me. I had to have messed some people up along the way, because I am complicated and unpredictable and most people will never know why I am the way I am at any given moment.
“Summer air was heavy and sweet, you and I on a crowded street, there was music everywhere, I can see us there. In a happy little foreign town, where the stars hung upside down, a half a world away, far, far away. I remember, you were laughing, we were so in love, we were so in love. And the band played, songs that we had never heard but we danced anyway. We never understood the words, we just sang ‘em. La la la la la la la. And we danced anyway.”
I see Quebec in my head. And the concert, and two little girls in sundresses twirling in the moonlight and music floating through the summer air and realizing that this was heaven. This was what I wanted.
“Standing on the edge, lookin for songs in a bottle, and talking with the strangers who don’t know my pain. I’m blurry eyes and burned out, choking on more than I can swallow. A crack in a little voice that calls out my name. And she says what ever happened to you? It’s been two years, where have you been? And I guess all my fears were true, the words are all gone, the time’s been too long, but it’s not too late to say sorry to a friend. What happened to my friend? Staring at her face I see a past that still haunts me. The road where we split up is filled with the things I didn’t say.”
Edwin McCain always brings me to Willard. We both had so much on top of us back in those days. So many things that hurt and confused and longed. And we put them all on and in each other. And I fell apart.
“I pull my boots off, throw my weapon on the floor, I cry my eyes out in my private little war. Cuz it seems I’ve been a soldier, heaven knows I’ve been no saint, with my camouflage and armor, cold heart and grease paint. To you this has no meaning, the armistice lay down, the armies all are quiet, the guns don’t make a sound. Cuz you melted the steel walls, tore down the barbed wire, filled in the trenches, demanded a cease fire. And now that you’re leaving, there’s nothing I can do, but I want you to know that you’re taking me with you.”
I don’t know if he’ll ever know what he means to me. He was closer to me than I thought anyone could ever be. Still is. He can still look into me and see things that I thought were hidden from the whole world.
I could go on all day with lyrics... I need to find some of the after high school I'm getting my life together music... perhaps I'll post again when I pay off my ITunes account from this round =)
|Sunday, April 6th, 2008|
Okay, so I'm single, have been for a while now, I'm back out and looking, and the first question i felt the need to ask myself is, what am I looking for? So i started a list.
-Someone who betters the world in some way, and does it for the right reasons. I have always had a thing for cops and firemen. I have seen the best and worst of both by being on scene with them, and there is nothing more attractive than someone that can take charge, save lives, and be humble while doing it.
- someone who likes children and animals. someone that may smile at my kiddos and their antics (someone who thinks disabled children are wonderful like I do), someone that knows how to not scare my dog and who will brush it off like I do when the cat climbs the curtains
- someone who will love the independant woman side of me, and allow me the space to be the strong woman I am, but who will also let me pretend to be scared during a scary movie (when in reality i love them) just so i can curl up in their shoulder
- someone who loves music, who will jam out with me in the car and sing me sweet country songs and laugh at me when I rap at karaoke and appreciate the oldies records I have.
- someone who is kind and happy. someone who does not believe in yelling. someone who will go on random adventures with me. someone that can hang out successfully with my multitude of diverse friends.
- someone who will not freak out over the fact that I have dated men and a woman. It's good both ways, i can testify to that.
|Saturday, March 29th, 2008|
. I hate meeting at starbucks. Hate it hate it hate it. It’s such a boring grown up ritual. Can’t someone someday invite me skydiving on a first date? Or at least skating/climbing/hiking/swimming/dancing/
something other than sitting in starbucks smelling coffee I wont drink and feeling underdressed and way too happy for this pissed off looking business class crowd? Oh well, I’ll suck it up, I guess when I meet someone really amazing (like, perhaps, this guy? Maybe?) it won’t matter that we’re sitting in a sucky starbucks. We’ll see. I’m starting to think starbucks jinxes my dates though. It instantly turns the attractive, suave, witty man that I knew online and turns him into a portly, bald, definitely not smiling little man that I seem to be replaying. Ick. Does starbucks make me uglier and more boring too? Gosh I hope not…
Recently, while dealing with social services on behalf of one of my kids, I had a lawyer ask me 'are you sure that's the jurisdiction of the schools?'. And I thought to myself first of all 'don't get yourself in trouble here', but second of all, i was deeply offended. I wanted to tell her that I teach special ed. That special ed is not like any of the rest of the school, and can not be thought of in the same light. That while they are at school, i consider myself their stand-in mother. I wanted to tell her that I fill their heads with things they need to know like any teacher would, but I also hug them when they're sick, tuck them in to go to sleep, feed them breakfast and lunch, pick them up when they fall down, wipe their little butts when they go potty, sing to them when they're scared, hold their hand when they cross the street, teach them how to talk to people and how to behave themselves. And with the child in question, I had been bathing her, clothing her, finding doctors for her to go to, and advocating for her on every front of her life. And then this woman had the nerve to ask me if what I do is within the jurisdiction of the school. hell if I know. What I do know is that it needed doing, and that these kids, and this child, need me to do it. And if I didn't, no one would. So what I wanted to tell her is that if she wants to remove this care from my jurisdiction and make it hers, all I need is her word that she'll do as good a job as I've been doing. And I'll go back to teaching, which is, after all, the jurisdiction of the schools.
|Tuesday, March 18th, 2008|
Felt like crap again today. Went home early, like I should have done yesterday. Then Diane called and made me feel worse for leaving. Apparently Kevin had a major melt down including crying and calling my name. I think he’s sick too and that’s why he’s so not himself these days, but geez, he’s just not a cryer, and the fact that he wanted me of course melts my heart and makes me feel like scum for not being there. And Diane cancelled her 2:00 appointment because she felt like she couldn’t leave him, again I feel like scum. But I try to remind myself that it’s not my fault that they can never find subs willing to work in my room. It’s not my fault that my kids are high maintenance and needy all the time. And it’s not my fault that I’m sick, which I legitimately am. I need to chill and get sleep and relax instead of stressing so that I can get well. Diane needs to learn how to handle things. I need to verbalize to her that unless one of the kids is in the hospital or one of the parents is on the war path, that I don’t want a report until I get back because there’s nothing I can do about it while I’m out anyways. Except feel like scum. I realized today that this is the first time I will have been out for more than a day all year. And most of those weren’t even whole days. I have to give myself props for that, I’ve done a pretty damn good job at always coming in and doing the best I can. From last year, I’ve come a long way.
Talked to Robbie tonight. I told her that my date on Saturday wasn’t even much of a date. I told her that I knew I had issues to work on. I told her that I needed her to get her life together. I told her that I needed her to have a stable job, with stable hours, and a stable income. And she gave me the talk again about the fact that that’s not fair, that she does the best she can and that it’s my job to love her unconditionally. I talked to Willard about it this weekend, and the way he put it was really non-judgemental but helped me come to the conclusion all on my own that I am a selfish bitch. He’s got skills. He said that he agreed that Robbin was doing the best that she could and that I could either choose to accept that or not, and that if I couldn’t accept that that I needed to walk away. He and I both agreed that I had issues with giving unconditional love, and that I beg to take the nurturing role because I feel like that’s my place in life and then I end up hating it because I lose myself and feel like I get nothing in return. I asked him if he thought that my issues were because I had trouble expressing what I needed from people, and he said the whole world needs to get better at expressing what they need from people. He said he thought my issue was that I don’t have a happy medium, that I either don’t tell people that I need anything at all or that I bombard them and scare them with how much I need from them. Robbie always sounds holier than thou when talking about how well she’s dealing with being single and how well she knows herself. I guess that's why she has taken up smoking, is drinking like a fish, and doesn't sleep at night.
I give myself props, I am forcing myself into healthy habits and it's working, for the first time the other night, I felt claustrophobic and crazy and like I wanted to escape, and I immediately craved the gym, and so i went and exercised and wore myself out and came home feeling human again. That and I'm starting therapy. First appointment on the 28th. I'm going to get my issues figured out.
|Saturday, March 1st, 2008|
I haven't written anything real in here in ages. Which not only makes me come across as quite boring and flat, but it also means I don't put any real emotion into in and don't get any real advice/emotion out. Hence there's not much of a point, and I quit posting. So this time I'm pasting a little bit of my recent self analysis to see what y'all think. Yes, I'm single again, yes, I'm considering dating women and men, if that doesn't suit you (I know some of my friends list is from the lesbian community) then either don't read anymore or don't read this particular entry. Otherwise, if you have advice for me, feel free...
Saturday, March 1, 2008
I realized recently that I’ve been complaining an awful lot about being the breadwinner and the housewife, and yet now that I’m single, nothing has changed in that department. I still pay all the bills, go to work all day, come home and do the laundry and dishes, clean the house on the weekends, take care of the fuzzy kids, get all the business done. The only difference is that I have no one to resent for it. I have no one else to clean up after. I have no one making me feel like I should do more, I don’t feel judged for what does or doesn’t get done. I am certainly not happier. I think the only thing that would change my role is if I either got a wife and could go to work all day and count on someone else to get things done at home or if I had a husband and could take care of the house while he pays the bills. That frightens me that my world view is that narrow. That I don’t picture a situation in which both people could do both without inequality and resentment. How do I go about fixing that? Why do I feel that way to begin with? How did I grow up? With mom home. Taking care of us and the house, eating home cooked meals. With Dad gone. Always gone. And yes, he pitched in with the house on weekends, and yes, he tried to engage us and listen to our day and make it to the important school functions, but I still don’t feel like I know him. And realizing how lost my mother is without the role she’s always been in messes me up a little too. We were her world, and she has put so much pressure on herself and on us to fulfill that, that when she feels like I haven’t fulfilled that, she is destroyed. It really sucks that I’m trying to sort all this out and I don’t feel like I can talk to my parents about it. I mean who do I know who is in a state of happily married that I could ask for advice on this? The only other family members I know that I would be comfortable talking to are Cathy who is terminally single and John who finally is happy now that he has gotten far away from his ex wife. My heart would like to take a chance and talk to mom and dad about this but my head still tells me that the more vulnerable I appear to them, the more hurt I am allowing an opening for. My mother has long since proven herself as counterproductive to my goals of happiness and self worth.
Turning a little femme again has been weird. I want to look good, but at the same time I don’t want to feel pressured to. Like the day I wore heels to work, Dan commented on how nice I looked, and I was thrilled that he noticed me, thrilled that I had done something to get attention and had gotten the desired result, but then I got mad at myself for wanting his attention, and mad at him for judging me on something so stereotypical, mad that he was complimenting me on fulfilling a societal norm that this is what a woman should be (although I should give him credit that he compliments the good works of heart that I do as well, which is refreshing from a man). I hate that I want approval so much, that I needed to be noticed by him, that I view him as so important to me, like he’s the last good man on earth I’ll meet and if I don’t succeed in getting him that I’ll have missed the boat. Well who’s to say I even want him? Who’s to say that I won’t really dislike him once I get to know him? Especially with as narcissistic as Christina says he can be, that doesn’t sound like someone I want at all. I am angry at my mother for constantly drilling into my head the need to please not only society as a whole but also a good man. The need to be what someone else wants. And at the same time, how true is that? Is that one more area of compromise that I need to work on? Is that one more of those meeting in the middle things that I’m not that good at? Am I going to have to change myself to eventually procure the love of someone I’m going to want to spend my life with?
It scares me to ask all this because right now, doing what I want to do, I am sitting on my couch on a Saturday, still in my pajamas, haven’t showered, watching last week’s TV. It is beautiful outside. Once again I think I’m letting my world revolve around other people and I’m forgetting that the person limiting me is me.
“ I am not the person who is singing
I am the silent one inside
I am not the one who laughs at peoples’ jokes
I just pacify their egos
I am not my house, my car, my songs
They are only stops along my way
I am like the winter,
I’m a dark, cold female
With a golden ring of wisdom in my care
And it’s me who is my enemy
Me who beats me up
Me who makes the monsters
Me who strips my confidence
And it’s me who’s too weak
And it’s me who’s too shy
To ask for the thing I love”
|Friday, December 28th, 2007|
I gave myself a little talk this morning and decided if I'm going to clean out, I'm going to CLEAN OUT. My solution: to stand in the room being cleaned out, and if something does not belong in that room, to hurl it out the door and declare "you can't live in here anymore!". Then when the room is totally cleaned out, I wade through the ocean of stuff in the hallway, make various donation/trash piles, and relocate anything that needs relocating. If, at the end of all the rooms, there are items that have been evicted from every room of my house, then I didn't need it to begin with and it is leaving. A little dramatic I know, but hey, I'm home alone and will be all day and Christmas break is the only time of year I get to concentrate on my home.
Oh, and I am no longer keeping clothes that are too small for me! I have clothes in my closet that I owned when I was like 12. No more. If, someday, I lose the weight, I will celebrate and buy new clothes.
This is cathartic.
The dog is scared tho.
|Thursday, December 27th, 2007|
Dinner with my wife:
She calls and says 'where are you?' i tell her 'home' and she says 'then open the door'. So i bound to the door and open it to see her standing on the porch, in all her uniformed hotness. She says 'hey honey, how bout a dinner date?' so she comes in, recieves her usual enthusiastic hug and kiss, and heads for the kitchen. we pull all the many Christmas leftovers out of the fridge and she builds a huge plate and warms it up. I ladel out some of the french onion soup I made today into a soup bowl for her to try and add croutons and cheese and warm it up and set it on the table. She sits down at the island to eat, I warm up a bowl of soup for myself and stand opposite her at the island to eat. And then there's the beep. I hand her a piece of paper and a pen, turn the music off, and begin packing it up. She writes as dispatch dispatches the call, I put soup in one nalgene and iced tea in the other. Wal mart bag, paper towel, plastic spoon, kiss on the cheek, and she's gone. here I am again, empty house, sink full of dishes. I think to myself the same thing I tell her often: 'good thing I'm so damn proud of you'
=) and I am.