Building a Room

Weeds

2012-01-22T07:40:00.000-07:00

Nothing is easier.

The boys are struggling. They were/are smoking pot. E took his bonds from a lock box and cashed them in at a speedy cash for less than face value. He says he spent it on clothes, but I think it was drugs.Drugs and clothes. Swag. He walks like a ducktalks like a duck,he is a duck. and i can't do a fucking thing about it.

But, I try and it gets worse.

Their father is mute; plays good cop to my bad cop and we all know that only works on cop shows.

I keep trying, and trying and trying and they keep making bad decisions.E lives with his father, runs there when I set boundaries, which means he runs as soon as he comes through the door.His father lets him do this. His father encourages this as it keeps him from feeling badly about withholding his support payments for so many years. His father gives him an airbed to sleep on, and feeds him dinner. That is it.

A sits in front of a computer screen all day. Of course I do everything in my power to keep him from it.It is exhausting. Everything is exhausting. I can't even begin to write the gruesome and entertaining details.

I feel victimized much of the time and then I feel worse because I'm such a weak pussy for allowing this. I want to control my reaction, I want to let go of expectation and hope, and blame, and hurt.....

And yet,There is love.

Never perfect, but it is goodness and it makes me feel guilty.

How dare I have this love, how dare I leave the battle and the banging of my head against the wall to experience love and affection, respect and admiration.
How dare I love someone who lives in and exotic location where I feel so connected and so powerful and good.
How dare I travel to care for him when he is hurt when my children are home being lazy and possibly smoking pot, and certainly feeling that I have abandoned them. ...
etc,etc,etc

I teeter on the edge of total utter despair and ecstasy everyday.

2011-09-08T19:42:00.002-06:00

He was here in the land of oz, traveling over 2000 miles to spend a long weekend with me and my family. He loves me, and I love him.

How will I last until mid-October when I get to play hooky and fly the 2000 miles back into his arms where nothing is perfect, but everything is kind, and real.

Blissed

2011-08-15T14:14:00.002-06:00

The lifespan of chaos, confusion and sorrow is like the lifespan of all things.

It is a beautiful thing to burn up in the sun, drop seed and to slowly unfurl one leaf, one petal at a time.

My life has become just that, a life.

Happy in self, happy in love, happy in uncertainty, happy in the midst of conflict.

It's inevitable,

all of it

and it is light and sweet and shines bright as the sun.

2011-06-20T04:11:00.003-06:00

Dance class taught me that finding balance is all about feeling where one is centered and steady then imagining an imaginary cord that runs the length of that center; through the core and out the top of the head where it is held steady by the great beyond.

As a child the gymnastics coach advised us to squeeze our bottoms, to tighten the core to maintain that center.
The key was to in being able to sense the center, to understand where it weakened and to strengthen the core that surrounds it.

I had such difficulty feeling these things, I wanted to know where my center was, instead of trusting myself to feel it, I wanted someone to tell me what to tighten, where the string was tethered and exactly how to hold myself in order to maintain my balance.
I watched others balance themselves, tried to emulate and wobbled around barely holding my ground much of the time.

Summer allows wobble time that allows me to feel my base. It's rooted deeply in the knowledge that I am trustworthy and true to my instincts even when I worry I've strayed or that I'm off base, I bounce back on the power of my unique and capable balast.

Guilt, self doubt, shame and regret are dead weight and I've learned that with persistence and placing my energy in doing rather than thinking is the only way to shed unattractive and unhealthy burdens.

I am centered in my ability to love and my willingness to be loved.

I am centered in my willingness to let go of blame and regret and to embrace the opportunities instead of the lost causes.

I am centered in ability to be true and honest and to accept what may come as a result.

I am centered in my belief that there is only peace in embracing ambiguity and abandoning expectation.

Beyond the mantra I am trying to follow my own advice to show and not tell.

I'm headed to the Island in a couple of days. The boys will meet me there in a couple of weeks.

I am not going to plant seeds for the future, or to erase any hard won lessons of the past.

I am going to be in the moments that unfold, to remain open to opportunities to stengthen my core and to help my boys find their own center.

I am going to love and be loved
as is.

Men

2011-05-02T11:11:00.008-06:00

I'm going to meet my Island Boy in "Hotlanta" soon. Because of the distance and our respective responsibilities, we share an understanding that it is not fair to ask for exclusivity from one another. While my brain understands this concept, my heart is at odds and my conscience clouded. I don't know how to be a grown up in the uncommitted relationships I've been experiencing.

I crave the touch and the attentions of men. This is human, right?

Because I try to embrace ambiguity and reject any one moral code for such things, I find myself very confused. A bit worried about the implications for my current state of affairs. So much for embracing ambiguity.

Is it natural, is it "OK" to have more than one uncommitted lover? Is it a betrayal of their affection? Is it a betrayal of my emotional well being? Is the fact that I'm confused because I never dated as a young adult? Is it a product of my low self esteem?

Is it selfish of me to spend a couple of months away from my children to be with a man with whom I have an ambiguous relationship?

Over the last four years my romantic life has been complicated by my Ex-husband's sabotage and the effect that his manipulative behavior has on myself and my boys. For years since the divorce I've harbored guilt and fear while dating and exploring men. I felt a need to hide dates, make up excuses for travel and lie to avoid being punished, traumatizing my sons, or bringing on humiliating drama. I realize I am the victim of my own willingness to be victimized.

In spite of all the head games my desires trump my fears.

Three lovers. Three men with whom I respect and desire for very different reasons. Two men with whom I do not entertain any projection into the future. One with whom I'm hopeful for something... but what?

I met a man not to long ago for whom I would have ended any time spent with the others. The timing was all wrong. He is a grieving Widower; his wounds so fresh, my instincts shut him out before the thrill of possibility could dim, before I proved a disappointment, maybe before I would lose myself to his wants and needs.

I will be meeting my island boy and his family, my boys will meet him this summer.

So, what am I doing? Is this normal dating ritual of adult humans?

2011-04-11T10:37:00.005-06:00

Decisions, decisions, decisions...

Spend the summer in St. Thomas Virgin Island with a sexy, sweet man with whom I'm smitten and after 5 expensive short stints together we want to see how we fare for long term. I would go to the island for a month without my boys while they attend summer school to make up for failed classes. When they finish they would fly and join me for the second month.

They would stay with their Father while I am gone.

WWYD?

2011-04-07T15:30:00.002-06:00

It's very difficult keeping the boys in my lower level English Class on task. I'm not much of a gamer and Literature and Writing don't lend themselves to a wide choice of physical hands on activities. I started class playing an online interactive game, but the boys all put their heads down until I pulled out the nerf ball and told them they could only answer the questions if they could make the shot into the trash bucket (over which I have a nerf hoop). They were all over it at that point. But.. this can't be done every day.

I'm having the same struggles with my boys, A and E and as you know it has me chasing my tail to exhaustion.

When I got home last night E was in the shower. I thought it was a bit strange for him, but didn't really think much about it.

I planned to make him a special pizza, one that he'd seen on food network program and commented that it looked "hella tasty." No sooner had I started cooking before he started complaining about how hungry he was and that the Pizza better be good, and "don't put bbq sauce on it, gross..." I've been trying to make all this awful boy friendly food even sending some to them when they are at their dads so they have some homemade food, but E always has a complaint. His grandmother, the ex's mom, cooks with bacon grease and breads everything- or his dad takes him out to high end fast food places. How is a mom to compete with fast food and bacon?

I noticed that E was sunburned, and again, I didn't think much about it...I was hopeful that he had gone for a bike ride with his dad. We spent some time with small talk and banter before things went sour. I asked him why he wasn't at the after-school program that he is supposed to attend on Wednesdays and somehow that segwayed into his need to take the more expensive drivers ed course and that he I have failed him in failing to purchase a car for him. ("all of my friend's parents bought them cars...")

You know where it went from there. I let him push all the wrong buttons until he loosed a gasket and then I lost it. Of course, he was clear about his desire to be at his fathers...

Then the accidental confession that he skipped school that day to attend the senior skip day.

I find myself telling him to go ahead and live with his father if that is where he will succeed, I threatened to pull financial support and told him I'm happy to let him work it out with his Dad. He fires back with the "you don't do anything for me...I have a job and I support myself..." He does buy a lot of his own clothes. His grandmother gives him money every week as well. He doesn't understand the cost of the ADHD meds, the braces, the acne meds, the food, the enrollment, the water bill for the epic showers and laundry load, the internet connection, the mortgage, gas to drive him to work, the dental bill, the contact lens'...under wear, socks, t-shirts shoes....

His father does put a roof over his head and feeds him every other weekend and on Monday and Tuesday nights- That I will grant him, but he doesn't pay for anything beyond this. The boy pays for the greater part his father's cell phone bill.

I have a mean streak when pushed to my limit and the grown up who knows better yells and says mean things. In the past I have slapped the boy, and of course that was used by my ex as a way justify whatever it is he needs to justify.

I've felt terrible guilt about this kind of loss of control. That said, I know that while it is not appropriate, it was not at the level of any heavy consequential child abuse.

It is all rinse wash and repeat. I don't know how to best handle this. Any time I assert authority, he rebels. He literally tells me he will do what he wants and then does it. I can't physically stop him from walking out the door, and there is no consequence I can enforce. I feel like I've no choice but to send him to his father's....but once there he will flounder further with no rules, no consequences, and no expectations unless my son's behavior inconvenience his father.

It's a catch 22 and I'm left stunned and bruised every time.

The Boy is currently failing all of his core classes. In addition he has two core classes he must make up from last year. He doesn't understand that as a Junior, this means he will likely fail to graduate with his classmates. He has run out of time.

And yet, if you ask him he plans to get his bachelors at a small, less expensive university and then get an MFA in International Finance at some Higher level institution.

How do you make the connection to one who is so disconnected from his own reality.

I was never a great student, I can empathize with procrastination and dragging the feet, but I knew to play the game I knew how to get by.

I see this attitude in students from time to time, and it is a hopeless feeling when you can't reach a child and help them to see reality with clear vision.

Having my own child in this position has me feeling so very desperate. My one hope it that he will learn all these hard lessons as a teen and be spared from this behavior as an adult.

2011-04-02T23:58:00.009-06:00

Like most humans, I've been searching for answers to all the why questions, seeking comfort, companionship,acceptance,forgiveness,apology and excitement; I want truth.

This is what I found:

There there are no certain truths, no solid answers or formulas for finding any of what I seek. Ambiguity runs on a continuum; it is simply the state of being human.

Comfort comes and goes as quickly as it registers. Just as you put the last load of laundry away, the hamper is full again - Fix the dishwasher then the stove gives out.

Companionship and acceptance require risk. Fear has stopped me from taking a few leaps of faith and I have miss opportunities, or possibly dodged bullets.

Forgiveness is only possible when we stop looking for apologies.

Excitement is a flash-fire, and truth is all about perception.

Nothing is real, true and comfort is short lived and everything is solvable.

It is all good, full of opportunity to grow.

relief

2011-03-18T17:19:00.007-06:00

Learning to sit with impatience, anger, anxiety, and heartache is a marathon. Mind over matter.

I can do it, but I have not committed myself to the deed.

I am in training, making this commitment, and in the training a great weight is lifted and instead of simple recognition, I'm gaining control of where I've been looping and losing.

I may not run 23 miles, because I'm not really invested in the need to do that. I run enough.

I am dedicated to letting go and breathing in all the pain and sorrow and breathing out love, compassion and joy, even when I don't really feel it.

My life is not full of any odd human frailty. Situation is nothing, emotion is my choice. I am capable of letting go and damn-it, I am dedicated to letting go of the habit of self-loathing.

I am dedicated to living to find joy, letting go the armor, letting the feelings sink in and breathing, leaning and letting it be what it is...

I am human.

beautiful
raw
pure

Me.

2011-03-13T12:30:00.001-06:00

Wanted: Concrete methods to gain self esteem.

2011-03-08T11:56:00.003-07:00

If my mother tells me, "hon, you know it's a Journey...we are all on this Journey..." one more time I'll have to believe her.

Like Joseph Campbell said, "...it is an Ordeal."

Accepting that and leaning into it. I'm accepting this and leaning into it, I'm accepting and leaning, accepting leaning, accepting leaning....

You should see me teach classes. Transcendentalism right now. I lead discussion about finding our center, we listen to music, we write letters to loved ones, we are poets and so hopeful and I'm so encouraging and the students think I'm a crazy hippie, and they like me and encourage me to encourage them.

And I hear this voice in my head that says, "you fucking fraud."

No, that's not what I really think.

I'm really thinking, Damn I wonder if I will be able to take a nap before going to the bookstore tonight. I need a nap.

I don't save the worlds forests,
Paint a portrait
write a novel
sing a song

I get naked and I get under the covers and I sleep.

Oh, not all the time. I run, I go to the YMCA and push weights around, I do laundry,
fold laundry, Do dishes, dust sweep. Read a bit...

But I'd really like to get naked, get under the covers, and go to sleep.

It ain't so hard.

I make things hard.

So, what have I been doing with myself these days?

Well, I've been keeping track of those of you who keep track of me.

I've been falling in love
Fretting over falling in love
Falling out of love
falling apart each time a lover falls out

I am so lucky to have felt such love.

I am in love with being in love. Who isn't?

So what if I've had few nervous breakdowns, lots of hot flashes, and chasing of my own tail. So what if I cry sometimes.

I admit that I've lashed out, thrown a few fits, embarrassed myself in the efforts and protecting myself or maybe In the lashing I missed out on great opportunities.

I am hanging on.

A bench warrant has been issued for the father of my children. He owes $30,000.00 in back support payments that he refuses to pay. When the courts found out through an audit of the payment system he was called into court and he failed to show up. I'm not pursuing this, actually I've offered to change the terms of the settlement, but he simply responds with "I'm not going to give you one more dime." So I'm letting him handle his own mistakes.

The boys are struggling in school. I worry that I should have fought for full custody, but they love their father and reject any hint of such a thing with such force it's clear that no good would come of it.

So life moves on and I travel the world of the humans, feeling all the things we humans feel, and the world is a beautiful messy mass of stuff. The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls."

Big Love!

2011-03-06T17:28:00.000-07:00

It's a hard life.

Three Things

2010-12-27T21:15:00.003-07:00

1. Death is one of the biggest pissers about life.

2. There are days when death does'nt seem like such a big pisser.

3. It is unattractive and unappreciated when people comment on food choices when eating out.
This truth is not limited to those who over-eat, it is just as unattractive and inappropriate to comment on those who
choose carefully what they eat.

New Digs

2010-10-24T10:41:00.002-06:00

I've created a new place, one that is more positive, less private
I'm not going to shut down this blog, still need stomp and pouting grounds, but
my hope is write more and whine less . I hope to see you there.

Big Love,
Lu

http://mendingthegap.blogspot.com/2010/10/recognizing-that-all-is-not-well-and.html

2010-08-24T11:20:00.002-06:00

You take your chances when you write raw and in the moment. So many human moments are not bedazzled and beautiful.
Truth in a moment is not necessarily true in time. Still, there is beauty in a yawlp, grains of something worth consideration in what comes of instinct and impulse. Sometimes I'd like to know that it's a test, to see who is worthy; who is strong enough bear the weight of this true self.

Most times I know I don't know shit. And now, today, it's OK to have an inkling.

Like lovers, they may come and go, but they were there. And when we are no longer lovers, there is still the impression, the pure raw unfettered primal release. The beauty of the memory, the pain of absence, the anxiety of uncertainty, leave no room for regrets.

No regrets, longing perhaps, Not regret.

2010-07-05T06:58:00.003-06:00

For such a long time, as much of the blathering here stands testament, I've been kicking and screaming, wallowing and wailing hoping that my self-induced misery would burn itself out.

Once and for all I think I'm done.

I'm saying yes, going places
I'm saying no, standing my ground
I'm doing, painting, plumbing, puttering
I'm letting it roll off my back

I am as happy as I can ever remember being, and I'm happy in where I am.
I'm not looking for an out,
Not looking for someones foot steps to fall into and follow...

I'm going places, meeting people, staying home, I'm doing what ever I please.

My boys are both home and I know in them I see how I've done well.
We laugh instead of gnashing teeth and hissing.

When conflicts arise, it's not the end of the world.

I'm opening my doors, my heart and my life to possibility.

Guilt is in the back seat.

I am so happy for me.

And I am so grateful for all of you who bore witness while I thrashed and whined.
I needed to be small and ridiculous to be here, where I am bigger than life, and ready to be the person I knew was buried under all the weight of what was.

Every word, every post I've read, every e-mail, every photo, every comment has been woven into my recovery.

I ate cake last week. I ate a full meal and cake. Without panic, guilt or an unreasonable reaction.

Aint it something that I can come out of the dark and into the light where I can hardly see myself for all the beautiful world that has been waiting so patiently for me.

Loving me!

2010-06-24T06:23:00.000-06:00

2010-06-17T21:06:00.002-06:00

I loved this Movie

2010-06-07T06:47:00.002-06:00

2010-05-23T13:16:00.004-06:00

When I first started playing my guitar I struggled with tuning. My tendency to be easily confused by the mechanics of simple things is a source of frustration and shame. Once I became confused and I kept tightening the string until it broke. Sometimes I make things that are easy, overly complicated. I'm especially skilled at this with relationships. I over-think, replay, rewind and do it again until I'm spinning wild like Nora practicing the Tarantella in hopes of keeping her husband Helmer from discovering her secret. If he learns how she was imperfect in trying to keep everything afloat she knows he will reject her. I cry every time I read Ibsen's A Doll's House.I know that little twit Nora so well.

Someone I respect and love dearly told me that keeping in touch makes him unhappy because he dreads the anger that follows; because of my habit of lashing out.

I do. Damn it!

I lash out or go underground, which is a passive form of lashing out.

Damn it!

So I've been looking into the root causes of this tendency, and it's pretty simple.

Anger, Rumination, fear, lashing out, regret, and losing what you really wanted so badly to hang onto.

This is why people "turn it over to Jesus" or give life savings away to Krishnah or run away and avoid...

I'm working on distracting myself when I feel myself tightening the loops.

I'm now accepting ideas.

What do you do to distract yourself from yourself?

2010-05-18T14:25:00.006-06:00

I'm told that these Christmas tree worms bore into the coral and pop away inside when they feel threatened.

Me too, once upon time, but not so much anymore.

I let things go. People, ideas, mistakes...

I've always made things happen. Not always dramatic and exotic things, but I take risks, I step out on my own, I stand my ground, create, learn, build strength.

I make it possible for others to do, I provide, encourage, fund...

I do, I don't wait, never have.

This took me a long time to see, to believe.

I push through and I've plenty to show for it.

Sometimes it takes a long time to relax and come out of the coral, to step out and face up to my ability to make it happen.

There are a few people who don't see it in me, but they don't know me, they only thought they did.

I might bore my way into hole, but I pop out again.

Pissy

2010-05-16T16:06:00.004-06:00

Last night I sat at a table full of bitterness. At first I thought it was the woman sitting across the table from me. After all I was all smiles, cracking wise, shifting conversation away from work and gossip to the guest of honor and what she was doing with her life. I excused myself early without excuse, when I'd exhausted my diversions and patience.

I took the bitterness home, poured it into a bottle of wine, shared it with the Brute. The bitterness blooms with drink and we rinsed washed and repeated an our ugly pattern of push me pull me.

Anger boils and brings all the heat to the surface in rolling pockets of heat.

I'm sick and I'm i tired of defending my heart against my head.

Overheard

2010-05-14T13:35:00.003-06:00

Tony: This Grandma, she be speaking the truth in this book Ms. B. She Don't be sugar coating nothing. They be cussin..., I like this.

Jack: No, he didn't, "Tony, did you finish the book?" Naw, shit man, he didn't do that.

Marquis: um hm... he sho did.

Zack: Can we read all hour Miss?

Booked It

2010-05-12T19:10:00.002-06:00

I am going to go to there.

In one month!

2010-05-01T08:33:00.006-06:00

Nana was not liberal with affection. I have no memory of a tight squeeze or a warm embrace. When I kissed her cheeks she held held my hands like a genteel Victorian lady bidding adue. Ever the Matriarch; respected, revered, loved at a chilly distance. I read her austere veneer as judgment. In the blissful innocent days of childhood, before the voice in my heart registered self-doubt, I knew not to wait for invitation to climb into her lap and lay my heads against her shouder. I buried my face into her neck, sweet and soft as powder, her skin translucent. I traced the rivers and tributaries of her blue veins from forearm to the back of her hands. Her voice softened and she cooed a story of a loving turtle formed in the curl of her hand, She pinched me softly, so softly, like a kiss. " Pinch, Pinch Pinch."

Near the end of her life she spent her days in a chair watching television. I brought her coffee and toast, she held my hands a little longer when I kissed her soft cheeks. The image on the screen revealed hands holding hands, she sighed, talked of how this moved her to tears. She longed for the warmth of a hand touching hers. All the years I waited for an invitation to crawl back into her arms, the years of distance and reserve melted away. I combed her hair, washed her hands and feet with warm cloths. She was the velvet soft powder, translucent, white shoulders.

2010-04-20T12:26:00.002-06:00

At the end of the day when I exhaust patience with chores, the dog curls on the floor next to the bed. The cats press against screens in window wells, resigned to watch the dark between naps.
The warmth of the boy’s voices teases and tells, pushes and pulls me with tales of their pranks. I tuck them into beds in a house a mile away from home.
A silence like a sigh, peaceful and lonely as the tide, ebbs and flows; high and low washing over me.
In this quiet I’ve learned to sit still, to read a book, write a song, or knit a scarf. In the silence I've learned to listen to my heart, to trust my needs, to make amends. There are nights when I wrestle against the silence. I try to strong -arm my life back into a mold of dreams that fractured long ago. More often my nights are full of Mercy and Grace.
Nights when a voice travels over miles of land and sea sending warmth that works through the tight knots of my spine; a voice like a hand pressing against the small of my back. This is where grace lives, where yesterday, dissolves into this very moment.
At the end of the day I can imagine a whisper in my ear, swimming in a warm sea of you and me.

2010-04-14T09:28:00.002-06:00

I feel like the American Girl in Paris, A little frightened, A little indignant, A bit confident, very self-conscious, flattered and very, very turned on.

It's about the shallow nature of flattery and flirtation
the deep satisfaction of having my son back at home and knowing I am a good mother.
It's about fixing up the house,
tilling the garden,
cleaning the laundry room
It's about standing my ground
It comes from functioning outside of my head even only for moments at a time.

I'm working on a project - summer camp for adults. I want to make it a retreat/spa for the frustrated right brain grown up. We'll spoil ourselves with yoga, dance, painting, cooking, massage, pedicure and rock band. We'll have centers and wine and cheese and music and freedom to play, we'll ride our bikes and be free!

This is where I am

An American Girl in Paris.

Monkey Grass VS Monkey Mind

2010-04-03T14:37:00.004-06:00

Working in the garden a thought came, and I'm hanging on to the peace that it brings for as long as my heart will let me.

Because I'm open, willing, honest, and self-reliant, because I'm sweet, and I listen and I don't presume I know best, because I will give more than I'll take, because I make it happen and don't ask others to carry me, because I pay the bills, taxes, work in a job that is not self-serving, because I love easily, bruise and cry easily, because I'll go there alone, but would rather have company, because I mess up the house, clean it up and mess it up again, because I don't brush my cat often enough, because I equate sex with affection, because I don't abandon, I don't' let go easily, because I am who I am, because I look like I do, with wrinkles round my eyes, and the skin with battle scars, because I expect loyalty and kindness, because I will see others faults down to the root and I will look beyond for hidden beauty,

because I am all of these things
I am not wrong.

disregard
disrespect
disloyalty
dismissal

these things are not my issue.
If someone chooses these things,
I am their loss.
Because that is true for me
it is also true for them
It is my loss

And loss should hurt.
so, I'm not wrong
It's OK to hurt
I should hurt..

till it stops.
and it's OK

I am not wrong.

therapy

2010-03-28T08:23:00.003-06:00

It has been explained to me more than once that we are all born with a full dose of self respect. Over time some of that dosage is drained by events and then we pick up more as we move through life; give up a little here, gain it back over there

Sometimes the giving up over rides the gaining back, and vise versa.

I am attracted to people who are able to stock pile self respect.

I am quick to give it up to people who are already full of the stuff. I don't do this selflessly. The hope is that I will receive the overflow, or at least what sloshes over and needs soaking up.

Problem: I"m no sham wow. My self-esteem absorbency rate is far below that of most strips of fabric in the rag drawer. The therapist suggests I've come into contact with substantial amounts of scotch guard over time and thus, my abilities to refresh my daily requirements has become more and more difficult.

As a result, I am attracted to those who are in a perpetual state of esteem overflow. This might be a good survival tactic if I were absorbent, however, there in lies the rub. I've steeped myself in esteem retardant, therefore making the attempts more and more frustrating with passing time.

The suggested fix to this conundrum requires looking back finding the original source of the retardant then working my way through the space and time of my life and then.... and then....

Do,...

What?

I read that the key is in the doing. So I do.

I do lots of things that I think will replenish my supply, only to find I"m doing the same damn thing again and again.

Looking for self love in what love I can have reflected back from others.

I keep emptying my reserves, pouring it into vessels that are already overflowing and I can't absorb the overflow.

Sometimes I cork what is left and hide it in a closet. But it's dark in there. So I venture out, start pouring into those beautiful overflowing glasses and start the process again and again.

Six Pack Heart

2010-03-27T08:30:00.006-06:00

I'm trying to open up, take chances, forget and forgive, purge myself of victimitus.

Not too sure it's a good thing. I'm not good at standing ground--it's easy to send rover right over and break through my boundaries.

I've opened up to the Divine Ms. M. after a year of recovery from her year of trying and damn near succeeding in destroying everyone around her to avoid her own issues.

She's worked tirelessly for the past year to get one of the new teachers, who has proved to be more than a little bitter and unqualified to teach, fired. While this woman is not a good teacher, I was rooting for her rehabilitation as apposed to her dismissal. She is unmarried and has two children. Ms. M was finally granted her wish and the teacher was fired.

I'm sorry for the teacher and her family. Sorry she wasn't able to make the changes necessary to succeed.

Ms. M . sent out an e-mail to half of the staff inviting them to a "ding dong the witch is dead" party to celebrate .

I will not be attending, nor will I respond to any e-mails making reference to the unfortunate situation.

On Dating. I open up too easily, I allow for too much bad behavior and I am too accepting of unhealthy lifestyles.

There but for the grace of God, is not to be interpreted in quite this way.

There is something about me that attracts men interested in sex and only sex.

I don't see myself as sexy, I have decent legs and a flat stomach.

I am not a pretty girl, I clean up ok, but I'm not pretty.

When My husband left me, one of the last things he said to me was that I was sexy and that I would be able to use that.

I didn't know what he meant. But I use it,

I think men are attracted to my vulnerability, my honesty and openness, the idea that they can be Sir Lancelot and sweep me easily off my feet. But, alas, once the conquest, I'm just a girl and damn if that fire breathing dragon chasing her isn't a mean looking mother fucker... Run Away!

I need an exercise to harden my heart as hard as I've been able to do for my abs.

2010-03-23T21:14:00.002-06:00

I have such a rich imagination I get lost, like Alice down the rabbit hole.

it's a scary place.

2010-03-19T15:39:00.004-06:00

When the weather breaks and the sun shines possibility blooms so beautiful and large.
then the cold front moves in, and the blooms freeze, the windows are closed, darkness hovers like a fog.

Patience is hard to keep pinned down.
fantasy sounds real

until the cold front moves in.

Just kidding, sorta, yeah, I am, well, maybe...not, still...

2010-03-16T21:08:00.004-06:00

Dating is odd.

Scraping wallpaper is limited in satisfaction quotient.

I'm surprised by several men who have offered to help.

They expect sex in return, don't they?

Yeah, they do.

I miss sex.

hmm.

2010-03-15T22:52:00.002-06:00

When someone says, "that's cool" to a statement about a willingness to "hang out" it's the equivialant of "yeah, right..."

isn't it?

man. being a loser sucks even more after high school.

2010-03-14T08:33:00.005-06:00

No more fighting it, I"m boy crazy. Emphasis on the crazy. I've tried to deny it, I've employed the say till you believe it thing, like fake smiling to bring on real smiles, but fact is I like men. I like the attention of men, the company of men, the bodies men, the smell of men..., all the bits and pieces of men.

Sigh.

I've fallen head over heels into a few men. I don't fall in love, but into the warm embrace that comes from getting lost in physical intimacy.

The vunerability that comes when two people swim around each other is hypnotic. In these moments I feel beautiful, powerful and safe. I don't have the opportunity to feel like this often. This very comfort has kept me locked into wanting for a few men who cannot return the comfort outside of the bed.

I fought a few of them tooth and nail, butting my head against common sense.

This and That

2010-03-13T07:14:00.002-07:00

Fun:

Lu: Hey guys, want to go to that estate sale?

A: I'm alright

E: Naw, I'm not really into dead people sales.

Lu: It's not necessarily because someone died.

E: OK, I"m not so into forclosure sales.

Lu: i guess sometimes it's because they are going to live in a retirement home.

E: Ah! That's even worse. It's like pergatory with pudding.

Bud duh bum.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Student Love:

Hannah gave me a cd full of crazy cool music. Everything but the kitchen sink.

Dinh Dinh gave me an oragamie rose.

They talk about my lessons out the door and as they walk in the door. They be learning!

Spring Break!

2010-02-27T20:53:00.003-07:00

It's hard work avoiding getting worked up.

2010-02-20T22:37:00.002-07:00

I've always had a problem saying what's on my mind.
It's usually flattering to whom I'm saying it,
It's usually self defeating.

I always tell it true.

it seldom gets a good response.

I'm thinking honesty is not the best policy
but swallowing
hiding
denying
not caring

these things might be good survival skills to pick up.

2010-02-18T20:59:00.001-07:00

Overheard in the classroom

"We only have three flatscreens upstairs."

2010-02-14T08:19:00.003-07:00

There are stories and observations for telling, but focus is exhasted by the end of the school week, and loneliness has pinched a nerve in my rib cage that makes it particularly difficult to move.

Trying to express any clear idea has been like trying to grab pieces of a note torn and thrown into the air above my head. There is a desperation to that kind of grasping. Desperation that tuckers out before trying and slumps silent and brooding. When it gets like this it's best to let the pieces settle and the room to clear before any attempt to piece them back together.

2010-02-12T14:53:00.001-07:00

Is it just me, or is misogny back in favor?

2010-01-31T09:12:00.005-07:00

In the midst of all this angst is a pure gold mine of comic relief.

Late one night a couple of weeks ago I was alone with my second glass of wine and my play list of I'm so lonely baby ballads when I threw out my common sense and the last bit o pride that I've been saving for a monsoon, and I signed myself up on Match.com. OK, now if you've been around awhile (god bless and save you ) this might sound vaguely familiar. I tried this once before with e-harmony with what would have been devastating had I not found the result so damn funny. I know myself well enough to understand that I've the emotional strength of a dust mote and I've spent good part of the last year making myself ever available to a man whom I will can the Brute, and from who I should have walked away after the first date. I know that I am not to need a distraction, I know that I am supposed to be strong in myself, blah, blah, blah.... nevertheless, I don't have that mojo. I get the state of my need, I don't embrace it, but I have yet to shake it....

Enough about my Co-Dependency...I digress.

So, I write up a rather pity profile, throw that last bit o caution and self-respect to the wind, post a picture, take the damned survey and hit submit.

A week later I have 48 pages of men who have viewed my profile, 50 something e-mails and some 60 winks.

I don't wish to be unkind, I cannot hold myself superior to anyone at this point in my life, but I would like to share some things that have made me chuckle.

One man who e-mailed had this jewel on his Profile page:
my ethnicity:
I am more of a giver. I give more than receive from others. I think people take advantage of that part of me. I guess it is the giving nature from my parents. I come from a rural country/farm background. I have a good values and morals

Bless his heart. Ethic and Ethnic are only one nasal consonant apart. We must forgive, as he may have misplaced his reading glasses.

There was the man with the easy prose, and self-effacing confidence who I decided to meet after several witty e-mails and a phone call. In person he was trembling and at every new topic pointed out how I would not be interested in him.

There are the e-mails that seem to be going places, there is banter and fun and then.... nothing. I wonder which of my many red flag fired.

Oh there are enough odd, bland, shirtless, hey babeisms to start a never ending blob of a blog, but here is one of my favorite encounters. I agreed meet a man ten years younger. He is more adorable than his profile picture, a successful hard working kid who owns his own home, makes good money... We meet, we talk about him, his skill with the excel spread sheet, how corn rules the universe, the television series The Bachelor, which I find deplorable, but he has it saved on TVo, so I just smile an nod. It's clear fifteen minutes into the conversation that he drowns in the slightest depth of my responses and I'm beached in the shallows of his; Different depths for different fish.
I'm certain I won't hear from him again and I'm proud that I don't take offense.

The next morning I was surprised to receive a text from him. Throughout the day we banter about the weather, and the tone of our days. I am flattered. I decide to keep an open mind and let the flattery keep me from dwelling on my fixation with the brute. I'm determined not to build any expectation only the possibility of a new dinner companion starts to develop, I start to imagine a friendship and the idea that I'm regenerating the buds of the old social flower I was i my former life. I expect an invitation for coffee, dinner, a walk...

He shared with me that he was taking in a friend who is going through a rough patch as a housemate; setting him up in the basement until he gets on his feet. Nice guy. I joked with him the night before this was to happen that he didn't have much time to do his Risky Business dance set before he has an audience.

Pandora's box flew open

Boy: Risky Business, are you up for some? ;)
Me: Ha!, so I sense there is another side to "the boy,"
The frisky, boy.
Boy: You never Know.
Me: True that.
Boy: Are you up for some Risky Business...?

...and it digressed from there, "what was I wearing..."

Now, people with self-esteem say good bye, block the contact and take a cleansing shower.

I turned it over and twisted it, let it be, redirect the conversation hoping to re-write the whole scenario into something less icky. There was more innocent banter, a more direct text discussion about what he was after. I get it, he wants sex, phone sex, text sex, any kind of sex. Quite possibly I'm the cougar on his bucket list or his buddies gather round the screen and laugh at how he ropes women into stupidness.

And then I smiled. Funny & frightening how quickly a smirk and the giddy anticipation of fucking with someone can elevate one's mood.

Boy: I'm taking a nap... in my boxers and a T shirt.

Me: Oh, well, sweet dreams.

Boy: What do you wear, when you nap?

Me: Me, oh, I'm all for naked napping.

Boy: Naked napping!? How often do you do this naked napping ?

Me: Um, the answer to that question requires top secret clearance.

Boy: That sounds like a challenge

Me: Oh yes, it requires very delicate skill; intense endurance and probing perception...

Boy: Naked Lu! nice, I like that.

Me: You do? Yeah, you would like me naked... You can hardly see the scar.

(pregnant pause in rapid fire texting)

Me: The unicorn tattoo almost covers the length of it.

(pause)

Boy: What?

Me: Didn't I tell you about the accident?

Boy: No. I didn't know about the tattoo either.

Me: Oh... well, I was practicing my pole routine with my partner barbie, I had just learned how to hook the spike of my heel at the top of the pole while barbie snaked around the bottom when eddie busted down the door. The force of the blow shook the double wide so hard that...
I'll take a break now, so you can bring your buddies up to speed.

(another pregnant pause)

Boy: Is this you making a joke?

Me: Oh, dear. You just lost major points in perception.

Of course I didn't hear from him

until the next day. He sends a text about once a day, talking about the weather.

Dreamer's never die.

If you try some times...

2010-01-29T18:19:00.002-07:00

V C G January 28 at 11:21pm

ms. b
! i tried to email you at one point like a year ago, and then about 2 months ago i figured out i got the address wrong. i meant to stay in touch..
i just wanna let you know you're the coolest and by far most creative teacher i've had. you helped me a lot and expanded my horizons creatively; i may have failed your class, but a lot of the things you taught me inspired the way that i do things now. thank you for being so awesome! :]

...you get what you need.

2010-01-29T05:32:00.004-07:00

The two lane highway was familiar, we could anticipate the curves, the crooked trees, the mailbox made of gears and a plow. Our moods followed the same course. We would start dreaming, thinking of things we wanted to do. My mind drifted to having babies, building the home, his mind on races and bicycles. Eventually he'd grow weary and tired of my dreams of family, tired from the weight of it all. My dreams were dead weight, a cinderblock pulling him under. By the time we hit the Flint Hills silence and thousand yard stares took hold.

I chose to do what he wanted, but not without a fight. I thought I was strong, because I would argue, gnash and thrash through the push and pull me of wants and desires, but my words always gave way and the action followed his need.

It's a comfortable place for me, to let someone else make decisions, set rules. A voice only carries so far, and action requires too much risk.

I fall back into that comfortable habit.
I beg for scraps of affection and hang on to the most frayed life lines for a kind word.

It's a burden to carry. A burden I need to let drop.

2010-01-24T12:36:00.002-07:00

There is movement of sorts, a shift of soul, the opening and closing of doors.
I understand the moment, the movement, the running in and out of here and there.

Searching is happening everywhere. The squirrels went searching for food and found my tulip bulbs.
If I go back to the moment I planted them and try to connect it to the moment they hauled them off to a nest at the top of the tree, I lose. So I smile instead, laugh and call him a fat bastard.

just get in the fucking car and drive

2010-01-17T11:40:00.000-07:00

forgive and forget are not one and the same

2010-01-02T07:24:00.000-07:00

I forgive this ,
I forgive that,
him, her, them, that, what is, what is not
I let it go and out into the vastness outside of me.

I am however guarded and will protect myself from further situations in which I will be in the position to need to forgive once again, in which I will fall back into crippling bouts of victimitus.

2009-12-31T09:39:00.000-07:00

Toxic Past.

This blog is a overstuffed with homage to my toxic past.

So, I grew up in a neighborhood of older girls and to avoid being alone I played court jester. It had it's merits.

So, my mother tried to protect me from disappointment by making mediocrity acceptable. When she told me I would never be this, or never be that, she was trying to make it ok to be me.

So, my sister's talents always blinded mine, she travels a different road.

So, the men in my life have been compicacted, and my relationships co-dependent. Welcome to the world of humanity.

Fatso,

you ugly and yo shoes is too,

....

Hell, my life has been a cake walk in the scheme of things.

My enemy is my head voice. Bastard Bitch screaming about how this that and the other will hold you back, keep you down and take you out.

Fuck off bastard bitch brain. I gots a world to set afire.

Post Sniveling:

Yesterday's attempt to grab Joy by the balls and play like a rockstar fell flat.

it was cold, wet and miserable out.

The boys did not want to leave their fathers house where the war gaming and cable tv connection is unlimited. we argued about the way they wanted to spend thier christmas money, more to the point the impulsive nature and ify way they wanted to spend it. I was hurt by the fact that the plans plans when to save the day for me were thwarted once again. They had invited a friend to spend the day with them doing things not with me. I lectured the dangers of buying shit from craigslist and meeting the seller without an adult involved, I lectured on the risk of buying a used laptop from a classmate... I was the voice of doom and gloom-not the spirit of joy. I was being a mother, giving advice, setting limits, trying to establish a code of honesty. They were sneaky and plotting to do things in disregard of all I've advised.

There was a moment that sent me tailspining. Arts had me pull the car infront of his father's garage so he could look begrudgingly look for his sled. Keep in mind that I have not recieved any support payments for a year. No money for medical bills, no gifts for the boys... Sitting among the mountains of toys was a shiny new crotch rocket motorcycle. A ducati for christ sakes. The man can not pay a thirty dollar co-pay at the dentist, or twenty five for hair-cuts, but he can own two motorcycles, a minimum of 5 bikes, 3 of which are top end racing bikes of the last three years. We are talking tens of thousands of dollars in play equiptment.

When Arts saw me double take told me some elhaborate story that I'm certain his father told him about how aquired this one miraculously without income.

This is how the boys are learning-- Mother nags. She sets limits, has expectations.

Dad plays, he's cool, he has friends....

This is the other issue that flares of this I went to hear a freind play music, one of the only people from my past whom I hold dear, this is the only venue where I can go and find friendly faces, aquaintences who I hope one day to call friends. The ex. showes up with his group of friends--all of whom I was not allowed to get to know when we were married. He told me they were assholes, swingers, arrogant jerks and snobs. He spent holidays weekends, went to parties in his honor, all without me when we were married, and he contiues to do so and to show up in the only places I feel I can get out of the house alone, because I have no friends from my past with which to hang out, go to parties, or with whom to spend lonely holidays.

This man is who my children adore. Me, not so much.

I have a past, a lonely past.

I deserve better.

I'm letting this go, letting this go, letting this go and giving it up to the vastness of space and time.

Letting this go.

day two

2009-12-30T05:47:00.000-07:00

What I wish I had never done is to grasp outside of myself and toward others to feel better about myself.
I wish I had never reacted so badly to rejection
I wish I had never spiraled into raving lunatic mode with my children.
I wish I had never held on to people who want to be let go

I wish I could forget taking being found in a vestibule incapable of functioning
I wish I could forget the fights with the ex husband
I wish I could forget the fights with my son
I wish I could forget all the bad parenting moments
I wish I could forget lashing out when I'm hurt or my buttons feel pushed.
I wish I could forget the horrid relationship with the alchoholic
I wish I could forget silly embarassing moments that replay at whim

I wish I could stop berating myself
I wish I could stop feeling inadequate
I wish I could stop being co-dependent
I wish I could stop fishing for affection
I wish I could open myself up to good friendships without fear
I wish I could let go of the image in the mirror
I wish I could get creative in the doing more thinking about it

I have blamed others for my failures- the ex, men who aren't that into me, my parents, friends, childhood bullies...
I have said ugly or mean things to hurt those I feel hurt me. I've done this in person, via e-mail, text...
I have ignored friends who have tried to maintain contact.
I have tried to control my children in ways that generate fear and ill will
I have been lazy about communication
I have lived in intention to be giving more than in the action of doing for others
I have wallowed in myself, letting my children witness this and in doing so leaving them to carry burdens and weight that they should not have to carry.

The qualities with in me that I can nurture to support me in getting past these negative behaviors are...

My creative bent,
My empathetic and compassionate core
My loving nature
my fun loving wild child
My sense of humor

flame is flickering, feeling a bit numb, tired
intention is to have fun with the boys to be playful.
I want to generate joy
I need to set the domestic to do list aside and just go with the day. to be flexible.
Give up fear and expectation. let what is be what is.
My mantra is to remember to breath, laugh and love, everything else can wait. rinse wash repeat.

Doing Debbie Fords 21 day Consciousness Cleans: If my eyes start glowing, please give me hell and snap me outta it.

2009-12-29T10:20:00.000-07:00

Day One:

List of desires

~To repair my relationship with my sons.
~accept the boys without judgement
~gain the knowledge and patience to inspire and have more fun with them.
~A mutual admiration society; Friends without agendas, limits or expectations
~ put my creative desires to work in a way that brings out and brings in spiritual wealth & mo cash.
~writing, guitar, arts & crafting.
~ build on physical fitness and health.
~ forgive and build a new partnership in parenting with the boys father.
~Let go of self loathing, fear, guilt and dread.
~maintain this big old house
~Move to a place with more natural beauty and like minds.
~learn more
~relax more
~Let loose of obsessions and compulsions in diet
~Find deep true passionate love

Inner Longing
~Let go of self loathing, fear, guilt and dread.

Outer Longing
~~ put my creative desires to work in a way that brings out and brings in spiritual wealth & mo cash...writing, guitar, arts & crafting.

This morning my emotional flame is flickering. I feel good and I'm not on the verge of tears or hissing with every breath. As I write this my upper lip is barely ticking, I'm avoiding a wrinkle inducing cynical sneer.

My intension for the day is to do something productive & creative - clean and rearrange the guest bedroom maybe, that doesn't require spending money. If I do this I'll avoid the loser lecture that I'm want to give to the mirror at the end of most days. I want to let go of guilt that I have messy rooms in the house. I will feel empowered and I'll have satisfaction in the process and outcome.

To make this a reality I need to finish this up and get my ass to the gym. If I don't I'll obsess about it the whole day and I'll fail to get anything done with peace of mind. I need to be willing to throw things away and to just physically bust through the drudgery part of it all.

I need to give up the excuses that I don't have an appropriate place to put things, I need boxes, or bookshelves... that I might use this or that later, that I should wait to paint the room...

My Mantra to day is from my Nana who always said start in one corner of the room and work your way to the door. I will need to play this on a loop, while I work out it will be one step at a time, while I clean it will be one stack at a time...

Ok, now I'm going to start in the corner of this room, this room that I am building.

2009-12-27T11:36:00.001-07:00

I hate it when the house gets messy, My jeans feel tight, my contacts gritty, and my heart aches for wanting more of this that and the other.

All the lovely, delightful bits of me feel strained always, but especially bare during cold holidays.

I have realizations I need to realize, or actualize, digitize or vaporize.

-what I deem intimacy and connectedness, is only what I deem. Soul bareing conversation, sex, and shared time means only that. no more no less & I find too much relief in the moments when I can loose myself in delusions & my wanting to be wanted.

-In the scope & sequence I hold my own. I can be proud. I should be proud.
-Change is not always a good result.
-Fucking up and backing one's self into a corner doesn't mean you're stuck there.
-Teenagers don't always have some valid excuse for bad behavior & they learn from the mistakes if you let loose of it.
-People love to hear how your life is messy.
-People are not always kind
-Being guarded is not a bad thing.
-blah, blah, blah

2009-12-25T10:10:00.001-07:00

While one should think, write and feel warm fuzzy and platitudious today, I'm just fine with feeling dull aching numbitity.
I have so much quiet time to think after the boys slam the door, and head to where they go, Motivation to get things done wanes after the traditional breakfast cooking, then the cleaning, the smiling and the forcing of joy to the world catches up with the silent solitude that will be the rest of the day.

Much as we battle, my boys are sweet and love. I'll take that.
Much as I want for the wanting and the wanting of want I'm tired.

so a nap.

and it's ok because it's what is.

2009-12-24T04:59:00.000-07:00

"Happiness and freedom begin with a clear understanding of one principle:
some things are within our control and some things are not. It is only after you have faced up to this fundamental rule and learned to distinguish between what you can and cannot control that inner tranquility and outer effectiveness become possible... Remember too, that if you think you have free rein over things that are naturally beyond your control, or if you attempt to adopt the affairs of others as your own, your pursuits will be thwarted and you will become a frustrated, anxious and fault-finding person."- Epicetus

2009-12-20T11:33:00.000-07:00

All of the ideas of what should, should not, could, and could not, might, and might not build walls of fog with the heat of what is.

To be happy, one must

must not

should be

should not

could do

does not...

The days rise and fall,

my eyesight is clear then blurry

my head hurts

the dog farts and coughs

the cat has taken to pissing on towels

The sink is full pots and pans

soaking, or so I tell myself to put off washing and putting away.

I'll clean the room tonight,

after,

work, and the party I don't want to go to but I will and I will drink two glasses of wine and come home

tired and waiting for him to let himself in the back door, to crawl into bed

and I will sigh

and he will moan

and we will move

together and apart

rough and hard againt soft and easy

and time

will let loose

and the questions

the hopes

the fears

the needs

evaporate

until morning.

2009-12-19T11:34:00.002-07:00

Several times a week she came home with tall stacks of books from the library. She set one stack of slim picture books on the coffee table and carried the second into her bedroom to replace the hole in the folded laundry left behind from the previous weeks stack. Most likely she loaded the washing machine with an arm full from the mountain of fabric that renewed itself everyday without fail. Most likely she loaded the dish washer and set it to the heavy cycle to better soak the dried grit of yesterdays dinner. Most likely there was a conversation about the books on the coffee table or chores that needed tending, or when our father would be returning home. Most likely there were battles waged between my sisters over who did what to whom. Most likely she raised her voiced; a shrill and sorrowful plea for peace. Most likely she brewed a pot of coffee, or opened a bottle of Tab before she shut the door behind her in her bedroom with the stacks of books that she would move from her dresser to her bed where she pulled the covers over her legs and read until she closed her eyes and fell asleep an drifted toward a spell of peace and quiet.

2009-12-19T11:26:00.000-07:00

She has a beautiful mouth. She wore waxy red lipstick every time she stepped out the door. It was her only consistent act of vanity. Of course there were the regular home hair coloring rituals, but the lipstick was a daily do. With a scarf tied loosely under her chin, he blue cat eye sunglasses, and her red lips my mother looked like a movie star. In the car she forced a smiled into the rear view mirror and used her index finger to wipe off the perpetual red smudge smeared across her front teeth.

2009-12-09T20:03:00.000-07:00

"Due to recent cutbacks and until further notice, the light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off."

It ain't about Salvation

2009-11-27T12:33:00.004-07:00

I Google How to stop being self-absorbed. I read parenting books, listen to CDs of Zen guru's calm suggestions to be gentle with myself & stop thinking. I talk to myself. I say 'that is an irrational and self-absorbed thought,' I put my energies into doing for others in an effort keep busy enough to breath outside of my head. I work on my house. I work two jobs. I take my meds... I try to put to practice what is preached, but it seems I've a wiring malfunction in the transmitters that move the information from my head to my heart and somewhere between the knowing, or the letting go of knowing gridlocks forcing the negative nerons to back up into my neck and shoulders.

If I hear the phrase, Life a journey, one more time I may very well resort to primal scream therapy. Like I haven't already given that a go.

I am in the living in this very moment, Damnit!

Problem is, my moments are bi-polar; ginormous Polar bear moments that look sweet and cuddly, but damn if they don't have mauling skills. I've about yin yanged my way to oblivion at this point.

Cases, Points and Frightening Facts

In the moment only one of my boys lives with me, he is sweet and lazy, funny and failing classes and loving me with all his heart. His twin lives with his father and has taken on his narcissistic manner of manipulation and deceit, turning the knives into every soft spot until he wants something from me, at which point he turns on the sweet. I talk to him everyday, see him coming and going as often, but it's the worst pain to see him smirk when he knows he's touched a nerve or managed a master plan.

The ex. Is the captain of that smirk. I still pay for all of both boys needs, I schedule appointments, Pay for the orthodontist, the doctor, and the school fees, buy the clothing, haircuts, arrange for this and that of the daily do, and he feeds the boy once a day. But....It's the best he can do. He smiles a sad smile and mouths that he's so sorry that the boy won't come to Thanksgiving dinner with me, but he won't tell him he must do what we agreed upon; which is the same as giving him an allowance for asshole points.

I just called my son an asshole. I love him more than breath, but he is behaving like an asshole. Truth ain't pretty, It's yin yang, seeing what's real, calling like it is.

So, I've been getting out, trying to reconnect, and having some fun. Well, but then...there is last Friday:

I went to CD release party; it was beautiful music, a lovely atmosphere. I brought one of my sisters along and introduced her to sweet friends, I mingled, smiled and felt happy. The Man I'm no longer dating, but hanging out with and ... well he showed up and we all were having a great time. After The Man left I decided it was time to wait in line to use the powder room. I'd been drinking a bit, one glass of wine more than usual, but not crazy stumbling drunk amounts. I don't like to feel that way. The wait in line for the powder room seemed to take a long time and then I ran into more friends with whom I engaged in cautious conversation to hide my tipsy. By the time I made my way back to where my sister and I were sitting she was gone with my jacket, money, ID and phone. I sat and looked and waited for her until panic set in, I became dizzy, and my eyesight started to grow fuzzy around the edges. I couldn't think straight. I decided that she must have decided that I left with The Man and so she left. It wasn't rational, but I wasn't able to think. The thought of her thinking I abandoned her and the odd wooziness sent me running out of the building. The Man lives a few blocks from the venue, so I walked/ran in a cold drizzle to his apartment with the thought that he would help me find her. I guess I was too embarrassed to ask anyone at the party. The truth is I wasn't able to think in a logical manner, and I was very aware of a scary state of consciousness. I felt feverish, my head was pounding; I felt faint.

By the time I made it to the vestibule of The Man's apartment building I could no longer see beyond a blur, I couldn't remember his Apartment number and I couldn't read the numbers on the intercom. The last thing I remember before police officers showed up was apologizing through racking sobs and a shower of tears to someone for buzzing the wrong number.

I never saw anything but the officer's feet. I was curled up in a ball in a corner of the vestibule. The officer’s voice was kind and concerned, she had me get into the backseat of a car and someone drove me home. I don't remember the ride;
I remember getting out at the walk in front of my house.
I remember falling hard on my hip and thinking I would have to crawl to the door.
I remember falling again inside the door where my sister wailed my name, she was panicked. I remember becoming violently ill.

I remember the humiliation, the shame. I still feel it.

What happened to me?

I've pieced a few things together. My sister moved to get a better view of the band and assumed I was talking to friends. She waited until the party was over and then panicked when she couldn’t find me, called The Man, who had gone home and fell fast asleep didn't hear the call. She drove to my house, called my youngest sister who raced over and they were there just before the police dropped me off in front of the house. They held my head, undressed, bathed me and put me to bed. They watched over me all night long and took shifts the next day. I was unable to move out of the bed for a day and a half.

I kept telling them how sorry I was, that I must have had too much to drink.

It was more than the drink. I haven't been able to eat much. I had been having hot flashes all day, but I felt unusually energetic and nervous. I have been taking Sudafed for sinus headaches, a diuretic for water retention, Lexapro for depression. I did some research online and called the doctor. Either the interaction of these drugs with the wine cause sodium depletion; which is like getting water drunk bringing on confusion, nausea, and black outs, or I had a bonafide nervous fucking breakdown.
I'm lucky that this didn't come to a terrible end.

The worst of all of it is causing my sisters and The Man worry and pain. The Man woke to a terrifying message from my sister which sent him bursting in panic to the house; he was sick with worry. My sister who was like Mama Bear at this point wouldn't tell him anything or let him see me.

I wasn't going to write about this. The shame of letting myself get into this situation is heavy.

I've been working so hard to get out of my head and the stress of what I let my life become have taken a toll.
It seems like the harder I try to keep it together the more I fall apart.

So again, I'm in the same place; this moment, trying to let go of that moment and embrace the things that are good.
In this moment I’m embracing what I have:

The love of both of my sons. Although E is trying so desperately to hate me,
I know he loves me.
The love of my sisters and my entire family.
The Man who is not dating me, but loves me in the only way he can.
my friends who miss me.
my Career and my students who teach me beyond explanation
my ability to carry the load, to keep waking everyday keeping the household afloat..
the music; the art of my imagination.
the beauty of the world outside my window.
the hope that is cocooned in my heart.

If this life must be coined a journey, let's be more accurate and call what it really is:

This life is an ordeal. This life is a treacherous, joyous, ever dramatic fucking ordeal.

Gotta make it a Double

2009-11-16T14:58:00.005-07:00

Kicked my sad ass outta the house this weekend to see
this couple play at a local pub. I walked in and into a
room full of old friends.

"Hey, Lu!"
"Where've you been?"
"I miss you!"

I was hardly able to watch the show for all of the huggin,
kissin, and catching up.

I walked in alone,
but wasn't for long.

In your hopelessness is the only hope, and in your desirelessness is your only fulfillment, and in your tremendous helplessness suddenly the whole existence starts helping you. - Osho

2009-11-07T08:51:00.002-07:00

Sometimes a heart pumps lead and everything it fills takes such effort to move;
the weight at center anchors the body to the bed.
Mornings like this
after nights like that
land a person in a state of lessness.

When all the hot spots are exposed,
the slightest touch,
even the breath of a move in the direction of the raw nerve triggers truths
then all thats held back against the back of the best interest builds up and flashes white hot fire.

It feels like wrong, crazy and alone,

but listen in the lyrics,

see itin all the faces,

and feel the heat of effort in the wake of every foot step on the sidewalks.

Space

2009-11-02T12:35:00.002-07:00

Karen wasn't a pretty girl. Her long black hair absorbed the light instead of bouncing off a shine; her skin was so pale it was nearly translucent except for a line of gray freckles under each eye. All of her features were exotic and beautiful in isolation, but unfortunate proportion and symmetry left her appearance little "off."

I'd heard other kids talking about her, always commenting on how her oldest sister was a breathtaking beauty. When people heard who her sister was there was always an air of doubt in the reaction.

My sister was the pretty one too.

We met on the jungle gym where she was hanging upside down from the top rail with her with no hands. I stayed closer to the ground. The Jungle gym was a mystery to me, it was a three level collection of cubes arranged to look more like a house than any jungle and the small steering wheels attached to the middle level only added to the confusion.

I watched her hanging out of the corner of my eye while I wedged myself into position with one of the steering wheels in hand. "Aren't you afraid?" I hoped she would say yes.
"No. Want to play Major Astro?" She righted herself and took the steering wheel next to me. We launched at five, four, three, two, one, and at blast off all hell broke loose. We exploded into one life or death crisis after another. There were fires to put out and a hatch to seal; we were nearly sucked out into the stratusphere at least a hundred times. When the bell sounded that recess was over we rushed our landing. The parachute almost didn't open, but Karen was quick on her feet and she dangled once more from the top rail to repair the invisible damage.

When our space capsule hit the water we bounced up and sprinted to the back of our respective classes lines. We were breathless, and laughing. I waved good bye to her as my class snaked into our classroom and her's filed past.

We never played together again. Years later I saw her sitting alone in the middle school lunchroom. Her hair was greasy and pimples dotted her face in the places between the freckles. She stared into the nothingness just in front of her nose. It reminded me of my first few weeks there, before my grandmother's neighbor took pity on me and invited me to eat with her and her popular friends. When one of the girls made a comment about Karen; how weird she was and how ugly I told her about the time I played with her during recess, how lost we became in our fantasy, how we hardly spoke, only reacted to what seemed to be the same invisible world. I told them about her beautiful sister. We looked at her without pity, without admiration, without depth and only for a split second before moving on to the merits Bonnie Bell Lip Gloss.

It wasn't long after that when I read an article in my Nana's Reader's Digest. A mother wrote a heart broken letter about the death of her youngest daughter. She begged parents to listen to their children before it was too late, before they pressed a shot gun to the soft spot under their chin.

Karen's Mother wrote the letter.

Missing Alfonso

2009-10-31T21:10:00.004-06:00

Alfonzo smiled when we put tacks in his seat. He knew they were there, pretended to sit and let out a howl with Buckwheat face. Putting the tacks in his seat was a gesture of affection. I loved him, his open smile and the way he talked to me like I was his best friend. He talked to everyone like they were his best friend.
Alfonso was love. His father was a pastor. That's all I know about him. Color held no weight; he was a boy, sitting next to a girl and we were friends. We talked about what it was like to be white, what it was like to be black, how we combed our hair. We decided that was the only difference between us.

We used different combs.

From the Beginning- As I Remember

2009-10-30T11:05:00.006-06:00

She was annoyed. Spirals of telephone cord snaked in a coil on the floor in a tangle around my legs as she pried my hands from her calf and pushed me off of her feet. She rubbed at the wet tear stains on her turquoise Capri's and the pitch of her voice tightened. The space between my fingers ached for want of the satin ribbons that she was tearing from the edges of my blanket, the same cool satin that I spent the greater part of my days weaving in and out of my chubby digits while I sucked my thumb. The calm that washed over me when I found this combination was soft and warm; my ballast. I choked on sobs until I threw myself face first to the linoleum floor, exhausted and soothed by the waxy cool. She was talking about me. I watched her face sharpen when my thumb found my mouth and my fingers worked at twisting my hair into knots. Her lip curled and her glare burned through blue cat eye glasses. Shame planted like a seed deep in the center of my chest.

2009-10-26T14:44:00.000-06:00

erase. time to start over.

2009-10-25T22:12:00.001-06:00

i am 16 years old.

country western cliche

2009-10-24T21:39:00.005-06:00

I've had lovers who lifted me in the moment.

The man who let me spend a weekend, my first solo escape.

He lifted my heart with my hips.

it was a moment.

There was the man from whom I hoped to learn to live free,

to slip into his world, to be safe in his circle;

the man whose freedom would never survive the weight of my need.

Who wouldn't love the man who lives in trees.

The last in the line is the toughest of lovers.

a pragmatist who bristled at my romantic notions,

the man who had the hope of happiness beaten out of him as a child.

I lament that these men will not have remote permanence in my life.

regardless of how poorly or how ill the suit.

2009-10-24T21:21:00.003-06:00

I tried to be a toughie, tried to hate, but I can't.

I love.

unconditionally. I love easily.

I will look past the most hardened heart and want to wrap my heart round and
warm it.

This leads to heart ache.

I might curse and scorn, gnash my teeth and curse, say hurtful things, still...

I love

It hurts how much I love.

2009-10-22T21:30:00.002-06:00

Today I ran against the wind, swirling amber bits of confetti under foot falls.
The trees here are on fire, burning so bright your eyes burn; your breath catches in that place between the breast bone and laughing and crying feel the same.
My lonely gray heron stood in the river staring into the distance at the same place on the horizon where the flaming trees met the sky; all muddled indigo, cornflower, clouds of blue.

We are so small here, our footprint so faint in the scheme; all of our melodrama plays like a circus of fleas.

2009-10-20T15:04:00.003-06:00

I don't handle impermanence in relationships. In my head when a relationship falters it becomes abandonment and betrayal on an epic scale. I become a shipwreck and The slightest gesture of affection becomes a life raft that I hang onto regardless of fact that it's also buoys the chum that brings the sharks that swim round my brain move in for the kill.

A few weeks ago I was practicing my exit speech, thinking I need to get out, let him out and on with his life. In every way we are oil and water, But then I would be alone again and in the process of dating him I alienated the few acquaintances I've known, the few friendship I'd built. I saved every weekend to be on call for him. It felt natural and easy. He spent our evenings telling me how I should have done this, should do that, how he wouldn't date me if this, that or the other... I didn't bolt. It was comfortable, warm and cozy. I can't count the times he dropped me off in front of my house after a tirade that left me silent and in tears. Always about how it's been three years, I should have put a stop to the madness of the ex, of my son who's taken sides. I let a man tell me how many ways I am wrong. It was easy to curl up into it.

This man who as little education, little money, little tolerance...
This man who has goodness buried deep and locked away.

He yelled when my life and all it's drama interfered with our drinking and dining, I sat stone still & silent. I knew if I fought back might very well get the back of his hand. He made that clear. More than once I let myself into the house trembling at the lock, falling inside and wailing in a crumple ball of nerves.

The only time I spoke out was in drunken text. I hammered away not once, but thrice spitting out one hundred and sixty characters at a time- over and over and over again.

The one time he called to break my spell I begged him to come follow through on his promise. Take me out.

I meant it,

I wanted out.

I know I should be grateful that he is more sane than I-that he is finally truly done over and out...

I would take him back if he would have me.

He is a thousand times more dangerous than what I have known

And I would take him back as not to be alone.

How the hell did I become this person?

2009-10-18T10:10:00.003-06:00

A little wine mixed with rejection goes a long way dragging me off into bad zones of no return. I burn bridge after bridge in this zone. This crazy self pitying bitch zone where every stray negative thought I've swallowed builds into a bile thick as hate.

I know before it escapes that I should straight jacket & gag myself, but I don't.

I let the vile mess spew

Thick as hate.

Verb

2009-10-13T10:31:00.003-06:00

I've been following my Dear D's advice, and Will & Flutter holding that mirror up where I had to look at it. I'm moving things around.

It's really nothing short of miraculous,
well,
it's something other than the pity party where I've overstayed my welcome.

I Painted Art's bedroom!

He's been so dear through all the drama and I'm hoping to put to use some things I've been learning about How to Organize the Disorganized Child
Of late, this title applies to me as much as anyone else. Emotional immaturity was not something I would have labeled myself with before the divorce.

I'll post pictures of the room when I've added all the finishing touches and painted over all the lapses in concentration that ended up on the ceiling.

I wanted to surprise him, but he stopped by to pick up homework while I was in the middle of it. He's thrilled. I've painted, rearranged and I'm even adding some collages that I've made out of toy guitars and magazines. It feels good to be doing.
Thanks for the kick in the ass D!

His brother entertainment has been down right civil, even kind and loving. I'm hopeful, but guarded.

This could be a lull due to the absence of a beau.

The ex suddenly doesn't need to pull his things out of the house anymore. Then of course, this would not be allowed, I've change the locks and made clear the consequences if he steps foot on the property again, but that's never stopped him from hassling me before.

The boys continue to call me to check in, to see what I'm doing in the evenings. I like to think this is out of some concern or out of missing me, but as someone once called it, I think it's more to likely an attempt toward enforcing celibacy. Thankfully it's usually only once or twice in an evening.

Now I'm recycling old shit again,

I'm doing, pushing through.

I'm also limiting my cyber stuff. Face book really makes me feel like a stalker or often just feeling left out. Letting go of people is hard enough for me as it is, so when I can look them up and track how their lives continue without me, I make myself miserable. Yes I'm happy that they are happy, still... I don't like the envy I feel. So, there, other than the fact that I have to work until nine o'clock life is better here. I'm feeling mostly human.
Oh, and my classes are going so well I pinch myself every day.

2009-10-08T19:53:00.002-06:00

If I do really live by show me don't tell me,
and I do.

I've been showing anyone paying attention how to fuck it up.

I'm cynical, locked up and self absorbed.

I ain't no hypocrite.

2009-10-07T16:08:00.003-06:00

my motto:

Show me, don't tell me.

for better or worse,

I live by it.

2009-10-06T22:26:00.002-06:00

There are pieces of me scattered
somewhere

There were people who knew me
once

there are days like this
and the last
and maybe the next
when days seem like months
months years
years, forever.

this is now.
tomorrow will be then
then will be somewhere else.
but now
is

2009-10-03T11:18:00.002-06:00

I ran a 5k race today.

My son A, is at a marching band clinic,

My Son E, mumbled that me he loves me over the phone.

My Niece is Homecoming Queen.

My house is not a total shambles if I close the boys bedroom & the laundry room doors.

I cleaned my car.

My skin is clearing.

In this Very Moment ~ Or ~ How the going back on anti-depressants is working

2009-09-26T14:57:00.005-06:00

When I'm not working, running the boy who proves I can't be all bad here and there, when I'm not locked in the grips of a major attack of po angry piteous me, I'm watching TV.
Damn if I don't binge on my faves. Mad Men is driving me mad in the waiting for the next episode. I download this one online.
Then there's Net flix watch instantly The IT crowd which I prove my self a glutton and I'm left wanting more,
so my the not rejecting me seed, A has introduced me to The Mighty Boosh.

There are TV shows, 30 rock, the office and sometimes those csi shows that are so bad I watch for the opportunity to make snarky commentary to the walls.

It's mind numbing,

maybe we can call this meditation.

maybe not.

The real world hurts too much.
ze My eldest twin son is lost in his pain and I can't find a way to reach him. Every therapist is too geeky, every attempt to rationalize is lost. worry that there is a genetic issue at work that I will not be able to mend.
My youngest twin is sweet, lazy and flunking classes again.

I'm here doing my best to encourage,
to discipline,
to be what a good parent should be....

The beau has had enough. I don't blame him. He was all too much the same; controlling, angry, and uneducated. But, I don't say that without affection, he was great company and sex took me outta my head.

Sex gets me outta my head.

I will miss it.

I watched the stupid show Cougar and to my disgust I could totally relate to the protagonist except in the fact that her life was less fucked up than mine. Also, I'm not hot mammy like Courtney Cox.

My daddy, cried today. He wants to see me and the boys more often, he can't remember the boys.

so I stand by my last post and let me throw my fit. Life is not good here.

not for me.

depression happens because depressing things happen.

That said. I am taking a my meds again.

any relief is better than none.

In this Very Moment ~ Or ~ How the Coming Off of Anti-depressants is Going

2009-09-20T12:33:00.005-06:00

Earlier this week I worked a bookstore event that was in support of a charity that sends books to children in Ethiopia. The Author was so self-righteous and full of glowing reports of her success and how everything she touches is golden... she all but passed a petition begging for her canonization. The audience full of women with glowing eyes and children lost in the stacks making messes and more noise than necessary. Everyone in the room was sending out earsplitting vibes of "look at me, look at what a good person I am." The room was ice cold and nothing, but platitudes bounced off the walls.

If I were a believer, I'm certain I would go straight to hell for this reaction.

But I am not a believer.

I do not believe that people are good at heart;
so many have none.

I do not believe that life is good; keep the fucking stick figure away from me.

I do not believe that good things come from those who...insert what ever fucking banality one might wish to fill in the blank.

I believe that those who take for themselves, regardless the good of man, find happiness.

I believe some accidentally help man in the effort to touch themselves.

I believe that self-sacrifice is promise of sorrow.

I believe that one should never believe anything anyone says.

ever.

I believe nothing comes from kindness except by chance.

I believe in the laws of chaos,

Things happen,

and much of the time the things that happen suck hard.

I believe ignorance is the only path to bliss.

I believe I've encountered more wolves in sheep's clothing than a girl needs know to reach this point.

I believe it i my optimism, my hope for what might or should be instead of what is real, has been of no use.

I believe that when I finally really believe all that I think I believe and start living with myself in mind that I will be OK.

I believe this will never happen.

I believe I've learned to hate,

I believe hating is poison

I believe advice is never worth a shit less you walk directly in some one's shoes. Which can never happen, so...

I believe I don't know.

anything.

I believe I don't want to know

anything.

~PS~

after a good long sweaty run...I still feel pissy.

2009-09-17T08:27:00.002-06:00

-No more anti-depressants.

-get to work on the house.

-get back to the gym and the weights.

-all some miles to weekend runs.

-get certified to teach elsewhere.

-Get the house in order to sell.

-stop listing and start doing

Beautiful Futility

2009-09-14T19:33:00.002-06:00

A boy from Jordan called across the room to a girl from Jordan, "did you get my goat? I slaughtered that goat."

The kids around him gasped as he explained how he slit it's throat and ran around the yard, then how it's muscles continued to twist as he tied it to a tree and skinned it.

"It's a ritual." he explained. "you can't kill it first for religious reasons..."

His father showed up for parent exchange the next day and challenged my assignment.

I called the assignment "Careful! You'll poke your eye out!"

The objective of the lesson was to use the exclamatory rhythms found in warnings; such as the labels on medicines or aerosol cans: Contents Under Pressure. We discussed how the sharp staccato and direct command adds a sense of danger and urgency to a simple statement. We listed such warnings and the assignment was to turn them into a poem.

His father said it was pointless, "why bother? It's Like teaching Hamlet; a waste of time ... a pointless exercise."

I said I suppose anything not required for moving air into the lungs could be considered pointless and without meaning.

He said," like what? I don't understand."

I said, "it's like killing goats."

He stopped talking.

"...and the pursuit of Happiness."

2009-09-11T05:57:00.004-06:00

What is the purpose of studying the Liberal Arts
What are the Humanities and why care?

Charlie Brown's "Happiness is..."
John Lennon's "Happiness is a Warm Gun"
Aristotle On Happiness
Daniel Gilbert: from Stumbling on Happiness

Assignments: Small Group and classroom Analysis
Comparison Contrast Diagraming
Essay personal definition of Happiness:
Figurative response- Artistic representation of Happiness.

Aren't all of ours stories about the pursuit of Happiness? Isn't that what drives humanity forward, or backward or stuck in a rut?

This how we are beginning the year.

2009-09-08T15:47:00.003-06:00

I have enough to be ashamed for all the wanting.

It's not for things I long, but for some intangible ability to live free without reigns.

I fall in love with people who live unbridled.

but me, I am the bridle.

Therapy tells me that I am wrong to shoulder the unwelcome drama in my life.

I'm told to cut myself some slack, that sometimes there is a victim and I am one.

but it's of no comfort.

"If you could do anything right now what would that be?"
This is what the therapist one, two, three, and four ask me.

"I would run away"

"Where would you go?"

"I don't know."

"would you go alone?"

"I would go to...."

"who would you go to?"

"someone else."

"what is someone else like?"

"I will know when I meet him."

"It's not enough to be alone?"

"That is death."

"to be alone?"

"have you ever been alone?"

"No."

"I am."

2009-09-04T20:45:00.001-06:00

alive

2009-08-25T09:08:00.001-06:00

Barely a week into school and I'm already home with a very sick kid.

2009-08-24T05:46:00.000-06:00

Back to work.

2009-08-21T14:50:00.002-06:00

Sometimes it takes a swift kick in the ass to set you right.
I need my ass kicked about three times a day. It's so easy to wallow.
So, sorry for the shallow sob story--I'll do it again I'm certain, but right now
I'm busy getting my action in action.

Empty House

2009-08-19T04:39:00.007-06:00

I hoped to be gone before he arrived, but he blocked my drive with his van, charging out ranting, raving, lunging and pointing; crazed. I locked myself in the car and edged to drive out over my yard. The neighbor was sitting on his porch, the neighbor whom I've asked to be aware and call the police in a case like this, instead he put is head down and scurried into his house no doubt fretting over his bad luck for having such white trash for neighbors. At least this activity caught the ex's crazed eye long enough to make him self conscious enough to, back off and let me out of the drive.

He was in destruct mode and I've been storing "no longer my boyfriend's," furniture in my basement where the ex wanted to go to take the shit he left three years ago, the same shit I've asked him to come remove for as long. I worried he would try to damage something. I should have driven away and called the police, but the the last time the police were called he was carted off to jail and the children suffered the brunt. The police were not helpful, they told me he had a right on my property if he had possessions in my house, if any of his mail comes to my house. This is not true. This is not the law, but this is evidence of how alone one is in a domestic debacle. I watch this happen to me, each time as if I'm watching a tacky episode of COPs; where the bad boys shame humanity with their answer to "whatcha gonna do when they come for you."

So, stood back and watch him storm through the garage, yelling, pointing spitting accusations "you think you have a life, but you don't...sleeping with every guy who comes around...you've ruined me...bitch, since I fucked up you won't let me make amends...we had a life..." I hear static, the picture is grainy I sent a text my brother in law, asked him to be aware, thought better of involving him told him to stay put. He did.

I'm grateful that the neighbor did not call the police because my defiant son will blame me for his daddy's incarceration. The defiant one calls at the end of the school day, some how he's aware of a problem, I hear his father in his voice. He wants a ride home from school. His father starts shouting like a drunken fraternity brother, "Hey, E, I'm over at the house I've got another one for you..." Now the picture is clear, the two voices are interchangeable; father and son, bonded over their desire to make me pay for my ability to survive.

And I pay, I pay dearly each and every time. I've been blaming myself, felt I"ve brought it on myself because I didn't protect my own privacy when Emmett pilfered through my drawers and read my text messages, because I mentioned that I couldn't afford "that" right now but maybe their father could, because I've forced daddy to take on some of defiant one's doctor bills and to handle enrollment, because I apologize for letting their family fall apart.

While this is happening No longer my boyfriend began texting, he wants to kill the man. I don't tell him much, just that the man is there taking his tools, wanting what is no longer his. When he comes to see me after his late shift, he tries to sit, tries to be supportive, but in the end, he tells me he can't be a part of this, that I have to take control, white noise, and static.... he's outta here.

He is outta here and I don't blame him. He's outta here and I still text him, tell him I'm sorry, tell him I miss him, I feel shame for my failure to just let it go. It's one more wave of abandonment.
It's hard to take so much abandonment.
I'm so silly about relationships, I don't seem able to let connections go. I can't wrap my head around knowing someone and then pretending I don't. It doesn't seem it should have to be that way, so the only conclusion is that I am not deemed worthy enough to accommodate a shift from lover to friend.

I have spent the past three post divorce years trying to figure out how to deal with this. If I hire a lawyer what do I ask for? A Restraining order is a piece of paper not fit to line the drawers; If it's not physical violence, it's not enforced. Even If it were, having the children's father in prison is not something they would forgive. I would be to blame. He told them he may have to go to jail because I filed a restraining order. The defiant one is not able to understand that he would only go to jail if he continues to terrorize me.

My infraction is that I have survived. I pay the bills, I met men and enjoyed the comfort of their company. I held fast to expectations for the boys to suceed and I have house rules.

The woman who was once my soul sister admitted to me yesterday that she let go of our friendship out of fear of being present when something bad will surely happen. She doesn't want to be pulled in if there is a court case... My inability to control my ex-husband's and my son's behaviors has left me alone again and bearing the burdens his insanity and the burdens of my inability to take control

I need concrete steps,
no abstractions,
no emotions,

I need some specific action plan and the energy to get it done.

2009-08-18T20:20:00.001-06:00

I need verbs.

trailer trash

2009-08-17T15:54:00.004-06:00

How do I choose to experience this:

The boys father called me at school. I was in the middle of the first day of classes, but as E was just starting his ADHD meds I over worried that it might be related to a bad reaction...

What the ex tells me is that he wants to come to the house and take all the tools and bicycle things he left behind. I've been asking him to do this for years, three to be more specific, but for some reason today was the day. Something set him off. Maybe he drove by and saw the beau carrying the dog out for me while I was at work...

In recent months I've claimed one of the several bicycle frames left behind in the basement and I've had it over hauled and gifted it to the beau. Some how Max found out and Insanity ensued. threats to turn me into SRS for the slap that caused E's lip to bleed... I've laid my self bare here, believe it or not I've not sugar coated any of my doings. I fuck up, but I do not abuse my children. My biggest fault is the way I wear my insecurities and doubt like a badge of martyred honor.

I refused to turn this bicycle over to him. The law is in my favor.

Oh and the threats continued. My son, E was beginning to come around but a few hours ago he called and informed me he hates me and will never live with me again.

I have no way to reach my other son, A, whom I'm certain is sick with worry and confusion.

My boyfriend is sick and angry and feels helpless. He would really like kick some insane ex ass, but he knows that would only compound my troubles.

I'm thinking this numb I'm feeling might just be the best I can hope for at the moment.

Hard truth

2009-08-16T22:42:00.002-06:00

If one writes about sex, the need the desire for more, you become interesting.

If you write about failed motherhood,

you stand alone.

2009-08-13T20:08:00.003-06:00

I whine, stomp my feet, gnash my teeth, cry me a river and then sleep, and sleep and sleep some more. Then something happens to add shame for all of the above to my list o' woe is Me's which adds, shame for the .

My first day back to work I found out that the the school secretary's thirty two year old daughter died of complications from Lupus. She was a former student and her daughter went to day care with the boys. On the same day my department chair and friend was out riding with a friend who was living in her basement while working through a divorce. My department chair was thrown and broke her wrist. Her friend stayed behind to make sure the horses were put out to pasture while my department chair went to find her phone that was lost in the fall and when she returned she found her friend laying on the concrete unresponsive; brain dead. They don't know exactly what happened, but it looks as though the horse may have bolted and she fell off the back.

I'm using David Foster Wallace's commencement speech as one of the first lessons this year. He talks of the difficulty surviving the day to day grind and the importance of being aware. He knew what he was talking about, I wonder if he had his suicide planned while he was giving his speech. It was as though he'd reached the great conclusion, yet understood that he was not going to be able to find that peace. I can understand that, the desire, the desperate wanting to see the world differently, to be able to act differently, to do without doubt, fear, and dread. I understand the frustrations in the inability to find a way to make changes in self.

Unfortunately when the awful happens and what could be worse is illuminated I hear myself say the word that I will keep my trivia in perspective.

Words,
words
words.

don't make action happen.

Where is the action?

Why does so much sadness and uncertainty anchor me in such a small bay of blue.

Last night my dog Elliott tore his ACLU while going down the stairs. He's in a great deal of pain and I have to restrict his movement. Getting him out to go to the bathroom is a nightmare. He howls in pain and bites if I try to help him. Once he gets up he nearly sprints to get away and then he collapses in the grass, usually across the street in the park. Getting him up and back in the house is heartbreaking. He weighs 78lbs, and I can't lift him. I'm trying to figure out how to minimize his movement as this seems to be the most crucial aspect of recovery
My defiant angry son is beginning to soften. I continue to feel lucky that his behaviors are primarily directed toward me and he is not becoming a delinquent. I've disappointed him and he is beginning that journey to adulthood in which children learn that their parents are flesh and blood. I'm frightened by his narcissistic tendencies, but hopeful that some of the worst of it is due to his teenagerness.

I am still waiting for the state agencies to help me collect child support. I've offered to let the last two months slide and to forgo spousal support due, but he refuses to pay anything.

While I've distanced myself from friends who make me feel badly, some friends who made me feel strong have distanced themselves from me. It's my inability to grab hold and make things happen that repels. too much me.

I miss them.

My relationship with the beau is difficult to explain. We are still oil and water. But we look for each other for comfort and peace.

I'm not sure what I'm trying to get out of this ramble. I'm stalling , or trying to clear some cobwebs so I can get back to the work I've got to do.

Summer's over too soon, classes start on Monday.

2009-07-31T12:54:00.003-06:00

Parenting is arduous, more painful than the pleasure cruise we are lead to believe we must believe it to be. I wouldn't give it up for the world, but it is full of pain and anxiety.

Anyone tells you differently I'd venture to say they have a nanny, a house keeper and ample income and insurance.

I love my children. I am frustrated by my children every day. I am frustrated by the false ideas of perfection - the life we are supposed to live, as opposed to the realities of my everyday.

I am a good mother.
I have regrets.

I wish I had given my children more freedom to roam instead of keeping them so close to home.
I wish I had forced them to continue participation in a sport and in music lessons.
I wish I had cared less about their feelings and more about the discipline they need to succeed.
I wish for more patience to help with homework.

I wish I were less emotional, more matter of fact.
I wish I had indulged more in my own needs and desires instead of living my life so narrowly focused on the kids.

Even with all the wishing, I hope they will be OK despite the debacles.

fingers crossed

2009-07-30T13:20:00.003-06:00

It's a crazy cool day today, the sun is shining, a nice breeze, the windows open and I'm locked into fog brain bog down.
My body is being pissy & I"m not fighting it. I've keep straining some string of tissue where my leg fits into my ass bone, I think I'm on the tail end of some summer cold that had me sneezing and freezing in the heat, and today my bladder wants to play along which just adds to the "girls" tender state of pre-aunt Erma funkety funk. This bit of fun is topped off by the lack of effort that a new anti-blemish antibiotic is putting out. As it turns out while menocycline left me with clear skin, it was turning my ears blue. True blue, not just a little hint, but big bad smurf in the buff blue.

Bad word.

The beau is out of town. He told me he misses me. This is a big thing for him, as he's held back from much sweet talk. He's wise to hold back, I"m still learning how to run my own life. His tendency is to want to fix it, but he knows it's outta his hands and it's up to me to take it back. He's not easy on me, he tells it like it is. Denial is easier in the short run, but it's weighty in the long .

I've distanced myself from people with mixed motives. Sometimes I miss the flattery of feigned friendships. but I don't miss the falsehoods and the manipulation.

my own included.

2009-07-27T21:33:00.002-06:00

sometimes I take such pleasure in being snarky. I catch myself in moments of mean that are extraordinarily satisfying, and while I feigns regret, I privately gloat.

It's the quick sharp comment that cuts so fast and deep and from the such a "sweet" source.

On the way out of the door of the coffee shop to the ass who thought he had a rapt audience while he bombasted on his cell phone, I walk up, lean down, and whisper in his ear as if I might kiss him, "you are too loud."

I am not proud of this,

well,

I shouldn't be...

2009-07-26T07:20:00.003-06:00

Trust and confidence are not bottled.

pretty is as pretty does...truth isn't so pretty

2009-07-12T20:23:00.007-06:00

never fear, I've not learned to follow the prescription.

My children love me, but they don't want anything to do with my happiness,

I'm falling into some oddly satisfying relationship with a man who is a polar opposite, yet nothing like the old guard.
it's tricky and dangerously easy to give up self to other when self seems so much failure
but I'm hanging onto me.

We argue big about one thing that is a huge signal flair, yet I'm beginning to believe it may be truth.

What do you think about men and women as friends?

My experience is playing out to be closer to his belief than mine.

He believes it is rarely possible.

He believes that men usually want to fuck the women they befriend.

Unfortunately my experience can't negate his assumption.

damn it.
,
Most men who have tried to befriend me since my divorce have also made clear his desire to take me there.

Oh hell, I've desired as much a time or two, so I'm proof on the female end...

When that occurs or the option is nixed the friendship wanes.

I shrug it off any more. I don't even feel sorry, only cynical and wry, a defensive guard.

2009-07-07T21:26:00.003-06:00

The boy's resolve to destroy, is dissolving with distance need and knowing; knowing his mother loves him, but won't be beaten with his father's belt. Acrimony, anger, bitterness and guilt have eaten through these relationships one layer at a time. I understand, yet still fall prey to the truth that manipulation only works with a willing participant.

Tough lessons
Tougher still to keep from tripping over all of the above

I'm strong today.

I'm not in love, but my companion is strong enough not to let me lean on him. We argue over eggs, hashbrowns and toast, make up in the cool of the covers, pull weeds in our gardens. We are oil and water, potato pototo, tomato - tomoto.

Funny how even in the darkest of days there are moments to shock the system back to knowing that tomorrow will come, the next moment will come and odds are even that it might flip fancy and turn the tide.

high tide,
low tide
tide pools
and big ass storms...

guaranteed until the end of all time.

vague ambiguity that reveals absolutely nothing about anything

2009-07-05T14:32:00.005-06:00

He's oil in my water and I'm a fly in his soup.
His black washes out grey when the shudder let's loose a sigh,
but it's spit and stammer in the up and down when we duck and dodge
in and out taking turns running and walking
yelling then whispering
biding time till the day turns night
and the peace into war
and the war into peace
and the cold heats hot
until it melts
and leaves a stain
in the grain
a white ring
on the good table

2009-07-05T09:10:00.002-06:00

I don't have any new insights for myself.

I'm more cynical and less trusting than ever.

I'm more angry and defensive than healthy.

I dislike more than I like.

I've pushed and still get knocked back.

I'm not giving up, giving in or giving out

but I'm keeping it to myself.

Love,
Lu

2009-07-02T10:40:00.004-06:00

I"m doing a decent job of living in the moment, as good as I can muster.

I have enjoyed many great moments, although to often the next likes to keep me more honest than I think necessary.

Nothing about living seems natural or easy in this moment or any moment.

I want to run, but I'm tired. I do it anyway.

I'm worn down by workouts at the gym more than I remember, but I do it.

Like Pig Pen's cloud of dust, I walk around with a cloud of guilt. It hovers and sullies every decision.

Every decision. Still I make them...

that spoon of peanut butter ...

That solo trip to the coffee shop.

The bargain bin shirt I purchased at the Gap.

The trip to Kansas City I arranged with the beau who is frustrated by the cloud.

Ease isn't the point.

It's just doing.

2009-06-25T21:32:00.003-06:00

The psychologist's report came back. It makes me sad how much it reveals how little control I have over my son.
I love him more than breath. We are not to accept the possibility that we are victims. At what point do I listen to the professionals, that in some respects I have been and continue to be victimized. Attitude? Hell yes, I'm defensive.