catandmoon

Okay.. I know for certain, that their is only one other person besides me that will read this post. The beauty of this journal, is that I can be public and private at the same time. There is very little I would like to do more than BITCH on line so those who it involves will see it. That my children will read what I really feel. That their father(s) will see it too. But, the web is too public. Too. I don't know how to talk about what I want to, and not make it worse for everyone. I think this is directly related to the fact that I have no family with which to bitch to, and this community is too small.

My oldest daughter is breaking my heart. My middle child is breaking my heart. And raising a toddler on my own is breaking my back. And my heart. I hate that my kids think I am shit. That I am worthless and stupid and flighty and not hapf as put together as their dad. And their dad agrees. There is nothing he would like more than for them to see what a waste of space I am. He hates me. He hates my life. He ridicules and belittles me. He tempts me with understanding and then curses me at the same time. He has no part of him that is interested in understanding. He just wants what he wants when he wants it. And goddman if he isn't entitled to it. Well, fuck that. I raise his kids, like it or not. And up to this point, they have liked it.

Well, now I am spent and tired and wasted and feel inadequate in every way. EVERY way. I bend over backwards three times over, and it doesn't count for much. I am so mad. Hurt. embarrassed. discouraged. hateful. spiteful. and stupid. I want to end this fucking sham of a life. And if this is my final word, let it be that I did m y best, and I love my kids more than they could know. That I have worked so hard to make it good for them here, and I am sorry I am not rich. I am sorry I am not heterosexual. i am sorry I am not married. I am sorry I am not solvent. I am sorry I am not organized. i am sorry I am not more disciplined. I am sorry I am a total looser, and you get to call me your mother. I am sorry. At least you are almost ready to leave me. I know that were it not for your friends, you would have left long ago. Well, so be it. I am so sorry.

..I started this venture.. funny. I kinda like what I have written here. I think I will be starting again. I have this huge writing assignment for a class of mine that I have done very very little work. So... Perhaps I will do it here. Anyway, I like my picture here. It's only been 3 years or so, but I swear I have aged 10. Serious.

First morning alone in a while. There is a resonance, though. A dent in pillows where dreams collect. A day away from kitchens and sidewalks, berries and plums dripping from drooping branches, fruit on the vine swelling beyond branch tolerance, leaves coiling suspiciously idyllic -

There is victory in remembering. In smelling old pine needles, tracing rusted out hinges baked in clay with water-washed sticks, the trickle and rush of eyes closed on river banks - the sound I haven't been able to escape in a month.

This summer takes my breath, cupped in windy hands.

every morning, I seek it. In the pantry, sneeking before the kids see... It's my first good morning to myself. And everytime I find a remnant, everytime I quietly unwrap...it's your declarations I hear... waking me up, meeting my lips, settling my silence

There's nothing like a sudden death in the community to take your breath, and give you pause. To correct your vision, and straigten your bed, pull the weeds, take inventory... But when it is a child, no one can... NO ONE can prepare you for what lies beyond.
I am remembering that it is in every inhilation that we find meaning and are born.. and in every exhalation that we let a little life go. Every one... precious.

You know what's funny? I used to not care whether people took photos of me, but lately.. (in the last few years or so) I HATE it.

Am I really that weird looking? The above photo is an exception. WHY? Because I took it, and I know EXACTLY what angle to photograph my own face.

Bleah.

Oh yeah, went to Idaho and played in the Cascade Lake with family. FUN FUN FUN! We drank wine, found willows for wands, and salved old wounds.

And my mom is doing okay. SO relieved.

Hrrmmm... My mom had a mini-stroke yesterday... or atleast she was seen at the hospital yesterday. I didn't find out until 5:30pm, after my 4.5 hour class on family systems therapy. The plan was to go to Idaho to see my family, but with my mom not there, I don't really want to go. My mom is okay, I guess, but it does give one pause when one's parents suddenly become mortal. She is so young, 49.. or almost 49. She's got no business having a stroke. For real.

I panicked a little and got to talk to my brother, with whom I am plenty distant. It was interesting. He's a good guy - too good in some ways, I guess.

Anyway, here I sit, squinty-eyed, sightless, curled up in my chair, waiting for god herself to tell me via email whether or not I should go to Idaho. I doubt I will at this point. It's pretty late for a start. Already 7am or so.

hummdeedumdum

Well,it is morning, and I have been awake since 6am. Again. This tiring schedule I am on.. the constant burning the proverbial candles is wearing me down. I think. I never considered myself a 'surfer', however I feel I am constantly riding this wave.. and right before the crash of the wake and the shore and the water and the sand, I am on top of another one. Wavering, but still standing.

But goddamn, my legs are getting weak.

SO many experiences. The tidal pull and push of summer for me. Kids here, kids gone. Two lives lived in two months. Love, possibility, goodbyes, hellos, endings and countless beginnings.

Dizzying, really.

Longing for the Elysian...

witticisms abound here.