I
You set the balance
in me, you set the length of
each breath then vanish.
II
Breeze through the backyard
honeysuckle and smoke
trees bend and whisper.
III
Come back to me, my
eyes burn from loss and smoke, nights
so long and emptied
IV
I would fold myself
into you like vanilla
into sugared cream.
V
I would close my eyes
and vanish too, diluted
by pleasure and sweet.

Can't Think, I'm Fasting!!

No, I am not giving up food... but extraneous spending.
(Stop laughing. Stoppit!)
Crazy Aunt Purl has been blogging about controlling her spending and you all know I spend WAAY too much money on non-essentials and not enough money on bills.
So, armed with my own little notebook (in which I will record all of the things that I want to buy but resist instead) I will spend the next six months making an effort to reduce spending.
Now, the fine print...
I will still go to movies with Andie on Fridays. That's sacred.
I will still participate in Twist's Sock of the Month Club - and honestly, it is my DUTY to support my LYS, so I will be spending money there when I have it.
I will spend money on my vacation (I leave in 17 days, but who's counting?).
I will spend money for Christmas and Birthdays.
But otherwise? The impulse buy crap? Into the notebook!
Here's the kicker: toward the end of this six months I am going to receive a rather large check. This means I won't be dipping into it willy nilly. And I have MONTHS to practice not spending money!
Stop laughing. Seriously. I can do this.
(They had some really cute notebooks at Target...)

Oh, Just Some More Crazy...

Saw Iron Man last night with Andie and Sally... and I liked it! I mean, it was a movie based on a comic book, but it was funny and in some places funny in a really smart way. Terrence Howard is so pretty, and I love me some Robert Downey. I mean, in real life I would run, broken foot and all, in the opposite direction of his bad-boy train wreck bullshit, but on screen? Hi there!

(I know, because Robert Downy is heartbroken now. What he really wants is my fat-girl train wreck bullshit, right?)

And I am such a train wreck. An aftermath. Charred remains.
(Enough).

Speaking of train wrecks, is it just me, or does Jeff Bridges become a worse actor every time he is in a movie? I mean, he used to be good, right? And now... jeez. Is he addicted to painkillers or something? Drunk? I mean, even Nick Nolte can pull it together better than Jeff Bridges these days.

Or perhaps I am too harsh. I was really tired last night... no sleeping lately... All I seem to be able to do is lie awake and obsess. Sleeping pills and all. About everything. All night. I parse conversations, looking for the things I said that were wrong. I replay things over and over, trying to find that one thing that flipped - the head domino - and why I didn't notice until it was too late.

And I cry and I get angry and then I think, "Well, no fucking wonder. Crazy town."

So last night I took a hot bath, I ate some ice cream, I took more than one sleeping pill and I settled in. Sometime just after midnight I was asleep. A storm woke me this morning at 5, but otherwise I did OK.

Memorial Day 2008

Suddenly unburdened my arms
still shake, weighed down still.
This purple heart solid, it
aches to its own beat under
the phantom weight of you
gone. This scar the width
of my thumb,
deep enough to strike oil.

More Storms

Storms moving in again tonight.
I'm worried about Bean... she called a little while ago. Her dad lives out in the country and they're getting the first wave. She's afraid of the weather and we couldn't hold a connection on the cell phones. I know he'll keep her safe, but I hate when she is scared and I can't be there with her.
I'm worried about me, too.
Apparently I had a few more things to throw on that fire last night. Self-esteem, insecurity and feelings of abandonment to name a few. I should have known this would come up. Last night one of the party guests was amazed that she sees my dad (the donor) a LOT more than I do. In her world, my dad is a great guy who is funny and attentive and nice to be around. In my world, my dad is distant and removed and silent for months at a time.
(Thanks for making sure I have good relationships with men, dad!)
Freud was a crazy, coke-addicted, narcissistic misogynist... but he wasn't always totally wrong. We do usually end up in relationships with representations of our fathers.
We can't help it, it's how we were raised.
As adults we are supposed to be self-aware and healthy and learn to get out of that cycle.
(How's that working for you?)
Just fine and dandy... NOT! I have said it before - I am fabulous at maintaining relationships, I suck at men.
The first one was my boy scout hero, my courtly love affair. I didn't let him get close enough to disappoint me, so he remains this perfect example of What I Want in a Man. Sadly, (luckily?) he is married and lives about 30 states away.
Then the judgmental committment-phobe who lasted so much longer than he should have and got married a year or so after we broke up. Hmmmmmm.
Then Bean's dad.
Then the gay one. (Seriously, everyone thought he was gay when they met him. But he was safe, if emotionally unavailable... Safe because he was emotionally unavailable?) He is married now, too. To a woman.
Then Bartleby.

Am I really this afraid of being alone?!?
Am I really so emotionally needy that a bad relationship is better than no relationship at all?!?

Probably.

Bad Karma Out: Exhale

The party was a success. I cleaned ALL DAY and by the time Andie got there I was ready for a drink. We got the food on the table and had a chance to sit for a little bit before anyone actually showed up.

It was fun - lots of food and laughter and food. My friends come up with the best things to bring to a party! It was also a little emotional, not a big shock, but for me anyway it was emotional in exactly the right way.

Here's what I burned:
Sympathy cards. A whole stack of them. I appreciated them, but it was time for me to let them go.
(A copy of) my marriage licence and the divorce papers.
A birthday card for Jeff. (His birthday is next Friday) Inside I put a letter I wrote to him when we first started dating, a poem from the same time and then I wrote to him inside the card. I cried for about 30 minutes and then resumed cleaning.
The word "Guilt."

When it was time to burn stuff I was feeling pretty good, but I did get a little choked up just before I burned the birthday card. Last year for his birthday we went to Chicago... it was the first good weekend we had in a long time, and the last good weekend we had ever.

My mom came, and brought my brother's girlfriend, my cousin came and brought her sister and her mother... the Usual Yarny Suspects were there: Lara, Sally, Denise, Kerri, Andie... along with some other fabulous yarny friends: Sam, Shel, Jackie and Angelique. Speaking of fabulous, Michelle was there too.

I think we need more of these. If not for dumping Karma, at least for sitting around and eating good food and laughing.

Maybe we'll even let boys come next time.

Is it Naptime Yet??

There is one long weekend ahead.
Wow.

I'm working all day today at the station and then until midnight at my other job. Tomorrow is my Karma Dump party, so I have from whenever I wake up and get moving on Saturday until 7pm to whip my house into some kind of appropriate level of clean.
That sounds like a lot of time... but I hate cleaning and am easily distracted.

Plus I need to go to the grocery store and the liquor store and the party store... and still get a nap in the afternoon.

Also, we were supposed to be burning stuff in the chiminea - as in, outside - and it's supposed to rain. Bleh. Well, I guess we can always crowd onto the back porch and sort of toss stuff in... as long as I can keep the fire going we should be fine. Right?!?

I'm also feeling a little hermity again. Substantially less crabby, but hermity nonetheless. I am looking forward to the party, but I may be headed into a period of quiet after. It's been a long time since I have been able to indulge my need to be alone, but I'm only working half days next week and Bean is with her dad...
Unless I get a really tempting offer I might just hole up in the house.

I was suggested to me that I use the money to move away and start over when I graduate. I have to admit that is a somewhat tempting idea... to start over completely. But there are many more reasons to stay - not the least of which is the fact that my entire family (and Bean's entire family) lives here. There is also the fact that my friends are a large part of my life and my strength... and with a few notable exceptions they are all here. I can not imagine that my life would be better or more fulfilled than it is here, and the things that I have to deal with would just be traveling with me.

So those of you who know me in "real life" are totally stuck with me!

Enough!!

Swimming last night was wonderful. It felt so good to take off the boot and just let my foot float free. The water was warm... and as it got cooler outside we were all less enthusiastic about getting out of the pool.

All of the kids were fabulous. There is a peacefulness that comes when the kids are loud and crazy because they're having fun, not because they're crazy bored... and the moms present were the kind of moms who watch their kids and gently, consistently discourage unsafe behavior. There is no screaming, no crying... just laughter and the occasional "mom voiced" reminder breaking through.

Of course mine was moody and sullen, then fine, then moody and sullen. On the way home she spouted off with some snotty accusation - I am up for Bad Mother of the Year award, and apparently I have enough votes to make it stick - and I said, "ENOUGH! I am so tired of every word I say becoming something you can use against me!" It shocked her that I didn't immediately coddle her moodiness. I said, "If I hurt your feelings somehow, I am very sorry. But you have got to stop looking for the hurt in everything I say and remember that you are not the only one in this relationship with feelings."

Take that, pre-teen Princess.

I'm sure I'll pay for that comment in therapy someday. I'll never get this mom stuff right.

I forgot how much effort it takes to just float in the water for a couple of hours. Today I feel like I am fighting gravity for the right to stand up straight. The Idiot Stepmother is picking Bean up from school today and I am FREE for a week. No child, no fighting. After work today I am going to go home and clean for a little bit and then I am going to hide in bed and watch bad TV and not feel guilty for eating nothing but fruit and popcorn for dinner. Protein, schmotein.

And the trip to the lawyer's office yesterday? It was surprising... and sort of in a good way. It is all going to be less complicated than I was led to believe. And there will be some money in the end and I have been encouraged to take it. So I have until November to decide if I will take the money and what I will do with it. Part of me says "Spend Christmas in Hawaii!!!" and part of me says "Donate it to a worthy cause" and part of me says "Put it all toward the principal on your house" and part of me says "Stick it in a savings account and forget about it." I have a feeling it will be some combination of all of those things. Plus maybe some yarn.

Today's Answer to "How are you?"

(This is how it comes out today... haltingly and incomplete).
Empty. Today I am empty.
And numb and dumb.
Meeting with the lawyers today after work.
K just keeps saying, "I think you'll be surprised at what they have to say. I think you're going to be really happy."
Please, God, no more surprises. And she sounds so excited.
Like this is a gift.
And I keep saying I don't want it. Not from her. Not like this.

(He has taken all care from me).
He left me with nothing.
He left nothing with me.

(Nothing good can come from this).
No kindness, no more sweetness. No need for him, no desire.
Every wall blank, every well dry.
Hollowed out, parched, stripped bare, sanitized.
Relieved of this pressure I still can't stand, can't breathe, can't feel.

(Cowboy up, Cupcake).
Move on, move forward.
Move faster, get it all in.
Do more, be more, take more.
Get it done.

Crazy Girl Update...

I am still not getting to sleep easily in the evening, but otherwise things are pretty good. I'm smoking less and eating better - more fresh fruit, less Pop Tart.

I am even (mostly) managing not to obsess about the state of my (r)elationship.

It's nice to be able to (in small ways) relax and stretch into my life. I am still emotionally skittish, and in many ways I am still waiting for the next wave of bad things to overwhelm me - but I am trying to trust that everything will be OK.

And there's that word: trust.
Trust is not something that comes easily for me. The appearance of trust, sure, but actual trust? Not so much. There is this little voice in my head - it used to be a female voice, but now sounds uncomfortably like Bartleby - telling me not to get too comfortable, telling me that I am fooling myself, telling me to enjoy spring now because the winter is long and lonely and cold.
But I think it's normal to step cautiously when the ground around you has been known to shift and sometimes just completely vanish.

Perhaps the Therapist has been too hasty in his "no padded cell" decision.

Or maybe I'm just too needy. Maybe I require too much reassurance, too much praise.
How exhausting.

I'm going to knit now.
Knitting is simple and therapeutic and when I make mistakes not only can I tell right away, but I know how to fix it. Even if fixing it means starting completely over.

Alone time and knitting...

So this weekend was actually really nice.

I had lots of alone time... which I am learning to enjoy. I managed to clean a little and sleep a lot. I got a massage (thanks to The Fabulous Michelle) and I had some knitting time. Sally and I had dinner (and gelato) Saturday night, and Sunday I spent a few hours at Andie's house, but otherwise I was basically alone all weekend. And it wasn't bad.

I have generally been the kind of person who avoids spending too much time alone unless I am really depressed. I think I associate time alone with time feeling bad, and I am usually feeling really lonely and sad by the end.

When my weekend plans got smooshed last week I was prepared to spend the weekend pouting and wallowing and generally being miserable. Then Friday I realized that all I have said I wanted for the past, what, EIGHT months or so is to be alone in my house. What I wanted was to be able to relax and just have some time by myself. So I did.

It wasn't bad. I'm still not very good at it... at some point I have to be able to spend the weekend alone and NOT sleep for a good portion of it. Next time I should have a project.

In knitting news... I finished (and mailed) my SOCKS OF DEATH, and have not yet been killed. I am now working furiously to finish my Monkey socks that were to have been mailed out last week. Oops.
Also... I am going to knit this skirt:
I know, right?

The only bad thing is that I will have to spend eleventy-billion dollars on Silk Garden to knit it big enough to cover my ass... but I think the end result will be nice.

I wear skirts a lot of the time, so why not make my own!!

In other news... I met with my therapist again on Friday and he has still not ordered me into a padded cell - always a positive thing. I talked to him about Bean and her drama and the Bad Man and that whole situation and surprisingly enough he was actually fairly positive about both issues. Apparently I am on the right track with the things in my life that are in flux. Who knew I was so mentally and emotionally healthy!?!

Hermity. And Crabby.

Something just feels off this week. I am not handling things well at all, and my anxiety levels are through the roof. I am also feeling the need to retreat from everyone and everything; to hide in my bed under the covers and the cats and just sleep through the rest of it.

Scary legal stuff and disappointments and responsibilities are weighing on me and I don't know what the appropriate reaction is to any of them. A reaction of any kind won't change anything - and honestly, taken separately nothing is overwhelming or heartbreaking enough to shake me this hard, but all of it all at once leaves me feeling fragile and mute and invisible.

My plan is to find a balance between wallowing in self-pity and taking to my bed, and forcing myself to get out of the house and try to have a "normal" weekend.

Is it June 14 yet?!? That's when Bean and I leave for a week to spend time with our far-away friends.

Blood Money

Sooooo... My mother in law's house is titled to her and my father in law, rather than her and/or my father in law. When he died 18 months ago nobody thought to check and there was no probate... so legally the house became 3/4 hers and 1/4 Jeff's. When Jeff died, his 1/4 legally became mine.

Legally I own part of her house.

So now we start probate on his estate and also on Jeff's.

She is freaking out, assuming that I'm out for as much money as I can legally carry away... but even though I'm entitled to it legally, morally it just doesn't feel right. It feels like blood money. Even if we had no problems, even if we were happy and settled when he died I still wouldn't feel like that money was something that I should take. It's hers, and I want no claim to it. I want his debts taken care of, but beyond that I just want to walk away.

I've been trying to walk away. The last six months of my life has been me trying to get my life back and leave all of this behind. Now I'm heading into 6 to 8 months of probate nightmare. 6 to 8 months of paperwork and court appearances.

Our go-between from the funeral is acting as a go-between for all of this. Thank god for her. Were meeting with the lawyer next week to start this process.

I just want this to end.

To The Fabulous Michelle:

Forgive me, Massage Mistress, for I have sinned.

I have been knitting like a mad crazy machine for three days and my hands, wrists, arms and shoulders are a mess. My lower back is tight and my ass is asleep. (AciPhex, AciPhex).

And I still have 3 more inches on this Sock of Death to go... and then Monkey socks to finish.
By Friday.

I am stretching, and using my heating pad to ease my poor, overworked shoulders... but as for my massage Saturday morning, well, I'm afraid you're going to have a craptastic mess to deal with.

With your healing hands, I will be relaxed and blissed out... and forever grateful.

Much love and servitude,

J.

The Mother's Day Blues

I have gotten lots of cards and emails and text messages wishing me a happy Mother's Day.
It doesn't feel like a happy Mother's Day.
I think my days of "happy, carefree, mild-mannered Bean" are over. Way over.

She wanted to "stay home" this weekend - which I thought was really cool... but she didn't actually stay home. She spent Friday night with my mom telling her that I "didn't hear" her and that she wished I would do something besides sleep. For the record, I have not been sleeping as much as I did before Barlteby died. I have been awake and making dinner in the evenings. We have been busy most nights - between knitting night and our grief group and dinner with friends. We have been talking and laughing and watching TV together. She wanted to see a movie this weekend and I just couldn't afford it, so Saturday we went to lunch at her favorite BBQ place and then to Twist for knitting. She even got to go to a carnival that was going on near Twist with her friend M while I knitted. She asked me to take her to the carnival but with the broken foot I had to say no. She didn't say anything, but her attitude shifted a little.
I was glad that M was around and wanting to go too.

When they got back she didn't knit, she just sprawled out in a chair with her eyes closed, barely able to contain the extent of her boredom. I sort of wanted to smack her.

Then she decided to go with her sisters and spend the rest of the weekend with her dad.
I made dinner and Sally came over and we knitted and talked about men and cats and healing.

Bean and I talked about it a little bit. My mom asked her if it was OK to share her feelings with me. She said it was fine, but that I wouldn't listen. She said she wished I would ask her to come with me when I did fun things with my friends. It's sort of difficult to manage that when she is not home on the weekends! We had decided to see a second run movie this afternoon before she decided to go with her sisters... double standard anyone? If I had cancelled the movie to go somewhere without her she would have had a nuclear meltdown.

What bothers me is that she thinks I don't "hear" her. That she thinks I am ignoring her, when I have tried very hard through this whole thing to make sure that she knew I was OK and here for her.

I know that part of it is the age... She's 11 (going on 15) and I am losing IQ points every day. How could I ever possible know what it's like to be an awkward, hormonal teenage girl? I knew that hatching fully grown from that egg was going to cause problems sooner or later.

And she has been through a lot lately... but I feel like I am failing her. She is supposed to know that I love her and that I am hearing her when she talks to me. I am supposed to be providing her with a safe, comfortable home life so that when things happen or when she needs me she knows I am here.

She feels left out a lot... at school and with her sisters, and I know that the end of the school year is really weighing on her this year. She has been at the same school with more or less the same kids since kindergarten and now she's facing the end of that comfort zone, and a new school and new kids. That's not easy.

On the other hand, I also don't want to feel like I have to step to attention and comply just because she is bored. She is not a spoiled child, but it feels like there is quite a bit more attitude now when she doesn't get her way. I don't respond well to attitude. And I am allowed to make plans without her. I am allowed to enjoy my time alone.

I have to figure out how to balance her needs with my needs with reality... and I have no idea how to do it. I am off balance on the best of days, and her hot and cold crap is not helping. You'd think she was a Scorpio!

Hard

Our first support group meeting was tonight. I have told the story so many times that I didn't think I could cry about it anymore.

I am often wrong.

I walked into the room with the rest of the parents and all I wanted to do was leave. I didn't want to share with these people. I didn't want to hear their sad, sad stories. I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I wanted a cigarette. I wanted to run.
Instead I sat on the end of one of the couches and pulled out my knitting.

Socks. The ones I started March 1st. The ones that I thought would NEVER EVER END. (I'm on the toe decreases. Hallelujah).

It was interesting (from a clinical distance) to watch us all come in with our calm faces and composure, then fall one by one. I'm sure we all told ourselves, "I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to say more than I absolutely have to. I can get through this." I know that's what I thought. I thought I was comfortable with the story, but even in this abbreviated version I heard things come out of my mouth that made a liar out of my demeanor.

I was not the only one who found the body.
I was not the only one with the complication of impending divorce.
I was not the only one who didn't want to be there.

I was not the biggest mess in the room. By far.

When it was over I just wanted to go home, but I had promised Bean we would get ice cream.
This is going to be harder than I thought...

(If he had not died, if we had just gotten divorced this would be over by now. I could be OK by now. I wouldn't have to sit in a room full of strangers and feel like I was being torn in half. Again. Can't this just be over already? When do I get my life back?).

"Like Twinkie Crack"

Several people I know (online and otherwise) are making an effort to eat at home...
This is a challenge for me. It assumes a level of organization and forethought that I don't typically manage.

But I can try!

We did eat at home last night. That bad, bad man brought steaks and we made creamy garlic mashed potatoes and strawberry shortcake... though I couldn't find the little shortcakes so I bought Twinkies instead. (Heh heh heh). It was good. Way good. And I had a conversation about Twinkies with the checker. It went something like this:

Checker: Oh, I love Twinkies.
Me: Uh huh
Checker: I bought another brand once and it just wasn't the same
Me: Yeah, the filling is different and the cake is never as moist
Checker: But there is something else... I just don't know what...
Me: It's the added crack.
Checker: Crack?
Me: Yup. Crack. It's why they're so addictive.
Checker: Oh right! Like Twinkie Crack!!

I should be more careful about talking to strangers.

And I know that the whole "eating at home" philosophy does NOT include Twinkies (unless you make them yourself without HFCS or butter or processed sugar or crack) but baby steps here, people!

I have been trying to remember some of the recipes I used to make... when it was just Bean and I. I stopped cooking things that Bartleby wouldn't eat, which means that for the last 4 years or so all I have been cooking is pasta, hamburgers, chili and grilled cheese sandwiches. More or less. It's no surprise that I stopped having fun in the kitchen... but now the doors are wide open. Frittatas and casseroles and vegetables other than corn, peas and green beans.

Weekend Fun

I had a very good weekend. Good friends and good food... and my hair is red again.
I had forgotten how much I love that chemical smell, reminding me of days working in the salon. I had forgotten how much I love being red. There is fortification in it. Attitude.
These days a girl could use a little attitude.

I was up walking around WAY too much, though, and last night my foot was so swollen I couldn't move my toes. I need to be more careful. To remember that just because something doesn't hurt to the touch it can still be broken. Too much pressure on something broken could keep it from healing properly.
(This metaphor brought to you by the letters S and P, and by the number 13).

I also read a lot this weekend. The Story of a Marriage: A Novel, which was amazing and surprising and dark, and The Girl With No Shadow. Also amazing and beautifully written, it's the sequel to Chocolat. I know that Roux was a character long before Johnny Depp played him, but now Roux and Johnny are linked to me. While I usually hate this when I am reading I find that this time I don't mind it so much.

Kerri and I had lunch today, and I ate so much that I wasn't hungry at all on the way to work. Now, though, eight hours have passed and I wish I had brought something.

My client has arrived... no more time to write.
Hope you all had a good weekend too!

Reminders

(In which my Super-Ego lectures my Id... which has admittedly been running a little wild and unchecked lately).

1) Take your medications. Every day. Every. Day.
Don't get in bed and get all comfortable and then think, "I don't want to get up, I'll take them tomorrow morning." You will forget. And then someone will compliment your hair and you will start crying. And you will not stop.

2) Your child is a teenager in every way except actual age.
She is hormonal and moody and unpredictable and has not yet learned to harness her powers and use them for good instead of evil. Also? This makes you the dumbest person on the planet. You (social worker, woman who has been around the block so many times there is a groove there, mother, former teenage girl) can not POSSIBLY understand the things that are going on with her. Because you have had a charmed life, and have never felt the true emotional pain that comes from having a really bad time on a filed trip and being tired the next day. Don't let it get to you... her Super-Ego is still trying to figure shit out. It will all be fine.

3) Plan ahead for breakfast and lunch.
It s cheaper and healthier to just spend a few minutes thinking about what to keep on hand... and then just throw stuff in your bag in the morning than it is to eat crap you pick up on the way. If you don't plan ahead and then are running late and can't stop and then nobody else is around to bring you something you will be sad. Very sad. And also hungry. You will start fantasizing about food that comes with gravy on it. And also Twinkies.

4) Cigarettes are not magic and will not make you feel better.
You're done with all of that now. Mostly. It's bad for you and while it might make you fell better for a few minutes the stress will still be there. Too bad you don't get high anymore. Maybe you should just have a lot of sex.

5) Stop ordering things online.
Until you win the lottery and/or find a "sugar daddy" you can not afford to keep this pace going. Also there is not enough space in your house for that much yarn. There just isn't. Stop it.