ambiguity

hell is not an ambiguous place ( i wouldn't imagine it is at least), and yet ambiguity is a pretty powerful form of hell here on earth. we call it all sorts of things like, "being in limbo", or "transition", but for me an ambiguous place in life is not somewhere i can comfortably dwell for long. it activates all of my "stuff". the parts of me that i have worked so hard to heal and move forward from all come rushing into play when my life stumbles upon a state of flux, limbo, transition, blah blah blah. however one dresses it up, it sucks... big time.

i think the pieces to ambiguity that really chap my ass are the unknowings. those pieces of the transition time that are hazy and unclear make my stomach turn, and my skin crawl. i could vomit just thinking about it. i like to know. everything. all the time. is that too much to ask? what's that you say, it IS too much to ask? well, fuck you. i still want it.

did i mention that ambiguity makes me really angry? makes me want to beat someone with the recklessness of my tumultuous adolescence. not a good feeling for this grown-up pacifist who prides herself of remaining calm in crisis, and pragmatically thinking through my actions. all i have to say about that is that there are people out there who should thank their mother-humping stars that i am a fully realized grown-up who holds herself accountable for her actions; because quite frankly, i could shank a bitch right right now. dear lord, that is inappropriate, and counter to my feminist beliefs on so many levels. this is what ambiguity does to me, it turns me against my own core values and makes me feel rage-filled in a way that i am really not comfortable with. luckily, i do not act on these feelings. i talk about them, write about them, and work through them by seeking to understand the shit storm around me. good times.

it's a pleasant way to spend the day, picking up a piece of fallen shit and examining it until i can know in my gut what it really is, and how it came to be in my life... and then moving on to the next hunk of excrement. once a piece is properly identified and classified it shape-shifts into a clear glass mound with smooth edges; the weight of which feels good in the hand, and can be placed proudly on the display shelves of healing person's psyche. it's like when lightening strikes in the sand and makes a free from glass sculpture, it came from a traumatic event, but now it is a stunning reminder of the beauty that comes after the storm has passed. if you don't look for the beauty however, you will never find it. it is buried underneath the sand and shit, only to be discovered and appreciated by those who are up for, and dedicated to, the excavation.

persevere (rate)/ (ration)/ (ating)

persevere: to persist in a state, enterprise, or undertaking in spite of counterinfluences, opposition, or discouragement

perseveration: continuation of something (as repetition of a word) usually to an exceptional degree or beyond a desired point.

(merriam-websters dictionary)

"persevere" is an interesting word. in it's various forms it's meaning can change drastically. when one is struggling we are encouraged to persevere through the tough times. change that a little to perseverate and the connotation changes as well. to be honest, i didn't hear or use the variation "perseverate" much before my oldest daughter came along, now it's not only something i hear OFTEN, but i'm encouraged to persevere in discouraging her perseverating by medical and school personnel. it feels like the world says, "shut down. get going! knock it off. keep it up! time-out. get in the game! sit still. chin up!" it's exhausting, make up your fucking mind already.

as my blog pretty clearly tells you, i have a had bit of an ass-kicking year. not ass-kicking as in "that was awesome, it kicked ass!", but rather "why is that woman lying in the fetal position? oh, she got her ass kicked." (it's ok to laugh, it's funny. god knows i laugh at my ridiculous life often enough). these series of events that continue to unfold around and within me lead me to wonder whether i am, or should be, persevering or perseverating?

prime example, i am going focusing my energies in the moments, minutes, or hours between crisis management this week on tapping the maple trees in my yard to make my own syrup. i have never done this before, and so it requires learning and concentration on my part, both of which are good distractions and avenues towards persevering. this activity will serve many positive purposes in my life right now, it will get me outside, teach me something new, and result in providing my family with a connection to this earth as well a healthy product we use often. i have spent hours reading, researching, and calculating the benefits of making my own syrup; it will reduce my carbon footprint, be cheaper than buying the stuff for a bajillion dollars for a qt, and it will be fun and educational for my kids. i was thinking about it as i fell asleep last night, and i began compiling my list of needed supplies first thing this morning. am i being prepared and tackling this responsibly? sure i am *she says tentatively with doubt in her voice*. however, if my 10 year old autistic daughter (z) were focused this much on one thing, whether at school or at home, she would be considered to be perseverating and redirection would be the first order of business. we tell ourselves that this redirection would be necessary to keep her mood more stable an prevent her severe anxiety from settling in for a good long while. but here's where it gets sticky, i am overwhelmed and anxious about this syruping business too. i am doing it for all of the reasons i mentioned above, but i am also doing it to distract myself from the rest of my life and give me something tangible to focus on. if everything goes according to plan and i make some yummy sweet syrup, then yay for me- i accomplishment something positive. if the learning curve for this activity has some unexpected detours and the syrup gets all jacked up and inedible i fear a total nervous breakdown in my near future. i'm putting a lot of eggs in this basket of maple sap, if you know what i'm sayin'. i'm relying on this activity to give me a sense of purpose when my life feels overwhelming, how is that different than z wanting to know every little thing her class will do, at what time, and in what way on a monday morning so that her week feels less overwhelming? it's not different. at all.

in my perseverance i am perseverating so that i may accomplish this goal and will then be inspired to persevere. when i break it all down like this i think a.) this is riDONKulous, and b.)i'd rather take a nap than do any of it. i would rather succumb to the overwhelm than risk the possibility of failure and meltdown. maybe that's the key difference between my perseverance and z's perseverating, for me persevering is something difficult that requires i maintain great focus to do. for z, it's like breathing. she doesn't require a self-given pep talk to latch onto an idea and run with it, but i do. suddenly it feels like i am the one who needs redirection, maybe i should ask z what to do?

ya know what's really funny? a grown-up who is really angry and starts swatting and kicking at the air around them. i love that shit. i totally get it, being so angry you must move it to a physical level, but it's really really funny when you see someone else act it out. especially if you get extra lucky and said grown-up in the middle of a cartoonish rage fit smacks an appendage on something whilst swatting frantically at the dead air. my favorite is if they smack their elbow or their shin, because those spots seem the most tender and then they hop around full of exaggerated pain that is actually a mere carryover from their original anger. if i could hide in the bushes and watch one of these episodes on a regular basis i would be happy as a clam. i would much prefer this sort of humorous voyeurism to most crap on tv these days. not sure why it tickles me so much, maybe because it is human beings being raw and letting go of the control over themselves. we truly are collectively a ridiculous species. we are so much like the characters in the funny papers, and truth really is stranger than fiction.

always on my mind...

my dad's side of the family used to get together often for what we called "jam sessions". the whole lot of them were musicians masquerading during the day as lawn mower repair men, office workers, door to door salesmen, housewives, etc... when it was time for a jam session, dad was on drums and vocals, aunt mimi played the accordovox (known to the rest of the world as the accordion), and uncle dickie was the standard on the guitar. depending on who showed up there might be random others sitting in. everyone would drink a lot, eat a lot, and drink more. the hallmark for me to know the night was a success was when my great uncles would start calling me "grandma lee" and giving me 2 dollar bills. i have A LOT of 2 dollar bills to this day.

they would play a variety of music, mostly old country. a variety of toasts and tributes would be given in slurred speech and the kids would eventually find somewhere to fall asleep when the sun was coming up.

one of my dad's favorites to play was willie nelson's 'always on my mind'. so slow and sad it would help everyone tap right into their trauma, which there is never a shortage of in my family. getting to that place of despair was always the ultimate goal.

tonight, a random tuesday late at night, i am up watching bad tv; and what do i hear but willie's weathered voice singing 'always on my mind'. it's a commercial for the ASPCA, making a plea for people to help pets who have to "fear the ones that are supposed to care for them". they show pictures of various broken spirited dogs and cats in shelters, and i can't help but wonder where our commercial was. in fact, where is it today? where is the public advertisement that asks the public to financially support rescuing the abused and neglected kids in our society? there are over 700,000 kids in foster care in this country, and yet you rarely hear about it. these are kids who have suffered severe trauma; who are floating on a sea of uncertainty in unfamiliar and often unsafe environments. if they were literally floating on a wrecked barge off of one of our coast lines, these little children who need our help, would we just ignore them? i hope not. so why do we now? why don't we look at our neighbors, and examine our communities policies on caring for children? why are there people injecting themselves with known cancer causing fertility treatments when there are 700+ kids in minnesota alone who are LITERALLY waiting for adoption. FREE adoption. i don't understand this? i don't think i ever could. (which by the way, i am thankful for.)

if you find yourself filling your mind with "buts" right about now than you need to seriously reexamine your perspective. for example: "but those kids all have serious special needs, and i could never do that". or "but i need to have a child 'of my own'." (my personal FAVORITE). if you want a perfect child that needs no special considerations than you should forget about being a parent at all. EVERY kid has special needs. EVERY kid has challenges. guess what? so does every adult. i defy anyone to walk up to me, look me in the eye, and tell me that my children are not my "own". in fact, i double dog dare you. nothing has ever been more of me or from me than my amazing girls. i'm not some saint who just a has a big heart for 'this kind of thing' (something else we hear a lot). we are just regular average people with the capacity to love. we fuck up every day, and we love our kids. they will never know what it is to have to wander off somewhere in an unfamiliar house and try to find a safe place to crash because they don't know where their parents are... at least not on my watch.

long story short (or not), go ahead and adopt a rescue pet, and consider rescuing a child while you're at it.

overwhelm, shut-down, drink, stress, feel guilty, REPEAT DAILY...

mother of pearl i am struggling!! my lovely wifeband left to forge our path eastward a week ago. she has created a clear path with tenacious effort and dedication to our family. i, on the other hand, have been drowning in what is left behind. specifically single parenting 24/7, and being left to pack the remainder of our belongings before august 13th. some people are just able to tackle these sorts of challenges head on and do a little each day making it less overwhelming and daunting. i am not one of those people. when i get overwhelmed i get shut-down and i usually end up doing things that i don't need to do. for example, obsessively playing word games or puzzles on facebook. or playing dress-up with the children or sitting on the floor talking to my dogs for a LONG time. or talking on the phone (a lot!) or, or or or or or or or or or or or.......

so this is where i'm at. there's lots to do and my primary grounding force (wifesband) isn't here to ground me. couple that with how much i've already done and I AM FUCKING TIRED. the girls are fighting more than normal ("MMMOOOOOMMMMYYYY... izzy won't play with me!" is something i hear 20,000 times a day), i have a hormonal almost-10-year-old whose mood is swinging in rapid and unpredictable patterns, and my family of origin is emotionally sucker-punching me around every other corner. (fuckers).

enter: shut down. shut in is more like it. i just want to stay home until the moving truck comes and load up and go. it would be even better if i could hide under my covers (literally) until that happens. (yes, for those of you who don't understand what i'm talking about, i know this isn't an option). but it's what i want.

because i try to do my best to end on a positive note i will share what my blessings are right now. my children are healthy adventurous souls. my wifesband is gainfully employed in the town where we want to live; in addition we continue to be madly in love 11+ years later. i have some amazing friends who are really showing up for me right now. i have my dogs, who make it possible for me to go to sleep w/o d each night.

all this goodness, and it still feels so overwhelming to just get up and go pack something... anything. why is that?

shattered.

when something is broken an undetermined number of pieces that once seemed whole scatter.  in order for something to truly shatter it takes a sudden powerful jolt.  a single moment.  the slip of a hand.  shards disperse in what i would call a random pattern; but physicists will tell you that the pattern isn't random at all, but something very much predicable.  if it's predictable, is it predetermined?  what about the size of each shard, can that be foretold as well?  

you see, when i shatter something that is glass there are large pieces that usually get picked up first.  it's easy to see that they will cause a hazard if left to live out their destiny on my kitchen floor.  the next step is usually to sweep the floor repeatedly to find the smaller pieces that could do as much, if not greater harm than their large predecessors.   after the sweeping my nerves begin to settle from the jolt of a sudden crash and life begins to happen along it's new trajectory. (i.e.  i was going to make a smoothie.  now, i'm not.)  the thing that strikes me though is that there are always some pieces left behind.  no matter how diligent the person cleaning up the mess is, there is always a painful discovery at some point down the road.  sometimes the person who does the shattering is the one to find a small shard is embedded in their foot, but more often i think it happens to someone else.  someone that maybe you would never expect would be affected by your slip; or more likely someone that you knew would be affected if you didn't clean your mess very well, but whom you assumed would be fine as long as all the pieces were properly disposed of. 

i guess i am of the thought that the one who shatters can never get all of the pieces cleaned up themselves.  it takes more than one set of eyes to see each small glint of shiny glass hidden in places you wouldn't expect it to go.  maybe the trick is identifying the person (or people) who can see what you have missed, and will help you clean up what's shattered before others are hurt.

well now, that does sound super neat!

holiday lunacy is in full swing 'round these parts.  bizarre emails pouring in regularly with odd requests, questions, ideas, and statements. 

the woman who bore me (p-dawg) is all about forcing "neat new traditions" down our throats.  she believes that if she can just set up the perfect ritual for each and every occasion that everyone will be happy and no one will misbehave.  she's always wrong, of course, but this doesn't stop her from trying.  she is the queen of beating a dead horse.  lucky me.  the following is an excerpt from todays email:

Also, I thought a neat tradition would be for me to read either the story of Baby Jesus or the Night Before Christmas to the kids to wind them down before they leave.  Let me know your thoughts on this.  Rebecca, I don't know if you ever talk about Baby Jesus with your girls.

...because i am satan worshipping godless lesbian who dances around fire and casts spells.  clearly.  note that there's an implied question, but not actually a real one.  it's like she just wondered out loud.  and p.s. good luck getting 5 squirrelly kids to sit still and listen to a story on christmas eve night.  that sounds like a blast.  my kids have been begging to have their werido grandma read from the bible after pumping them full of sugar.  i'm sure it will become a time honored priceless kodak moment that all of the ladies at the garden club will mistake for genuine family merriment.  so that's a relief.

wake me when it's over please...

what to choose...what to choose...

sadly the following list is NOT A JOKE.  it is the actual unaltered email i received from my fathers wife.  i didn't feel i should hoard the laughter i got from this just for myself...happy holidays.

Greetings Folks: 

 

I'm responding to some of your requests for "ideas."   I think you'll find them all pretty practical.  For those who have not sent us your "wish lists," I would appreciate them as soon as possible.    Thank you very much!

 

·         Rubbermaid snap on easy find lid containers in various sizes.  Scott (my dad) complains "bitterly" about our current containers and finding the correct lid.  BLACK lids only. 

·         Placemats for our round kitchen table.  Need to be easy to launder or wipe off.  Maybe the slightly rounded style; but not necessary

·         JC Penneys Gift Card

·         Scott needs underwear (we hardly ever get a chance to shop).  He likes the extra heavy v-neck t-shirts (size L in Strafford brand) and size M briefs (she's talking about my dad here!)

·         Jammies or Nightshirt/gown style for Syl (probably size small)

·         Lounge pants & top for Scott (probably size large)

·         Barnes & Noble Gift Card

·         Movie Gift Card

·         Two hours of closet cleaning/organization assistance by anyone

·         Two hours of "spring cleaning" assistance in the store- vacuuming and dusting.  Does not need to wait until spring

·         Frozen meals

·         Small bottles of water (pod size)

·         Small bottles of  Fanta orange pop

·         Sunday morning breakfast

·         Refills for Airwick Freshmatic air fresheners (large & small size)

·         Microsoft wireless mouse x 1 for store

·         Swingline battery operated stapler for store

·         Store supplies (paper towels, paper plates, paper bowls, toilet paper)

·         Hand towels  (white, blue, yellow)  that have a loop/hook to hang on a hook. 

·         Plastic storage bin(s) with wheels

·         Schwan's Ice Cream Gift Certificate

·         Columbia Crest Merlot, Shiraz, or Chardonnay Wine

·         Casserole dish holder for round, oval, and rectangular casserole dishes

·         LARGE frying pan with lid

·         Black & Decker Adjustable Wrench for Scott (we saw an ad on TV. lately and he thought it looked good)

·         Glasses (probably clear) that have a very low small stem 10-12 oz size.  It would be nice if there was a matching style in about a 4-6 ounce size.

·         Swingline electric (BATTERY Operated) stapler for store

·         Small personal battery operated calculator for store--something to throw in a desk drawer

·         Note pads for the store (anyone's giveaways work just fine for notes and scratch paper)

·         Nice smelling liquid hand soap for home and store. 

goddamn holidays

thanksgiving hasn't even happened yet and my holiday stress is upon me. this more than unpleasant feeling can only be likened to the feeling i imagine santa gets when an obese american child plops down on his lap at an overcrowded mall on a saturday afternoon. first comes the dread of what you see approaching, than the realization that you are powerless to stop it from happening, and finally the acceptance that it is going to hurt and alcohol is the only thing that's going to get you through.

this is the holidays with my family. not my chosen family of course, but the others. the ones that hang like an albatross around my neck. my parents divorced about 12 years ago or so. i was an adult by then, unfortunately they were not. they squabble and pout about whose house who is going to spend what time at for the holidays. "well if you are here for 4 hours, than must go there for 4 hours too." i can feel my ulcer churning.

you often hear the phrase "the true spirit of christmas" around this time of the year. what the hell does that mean? can someone please clue me in? because all i can see are ipods, credit card debt, weight gain, and the aforementioned alcohol. not to mention my favorite of all holiday games, "who will have a blow out this year" also known as, "family feud- the holiday edition". who will it be? ma and pa? i don't think so, to obvious. bro and sis? possibly. ma and me? well, that's a given. dad and everyone? duh. evil stepwhore and the gay dentist? fingers crossed! the anticipation is killing me! seriously, i think it might actually be killing me.

last year we fled this isle of misfit toys and vacationed in NYC. it was a glorious reprieve from the madness. the realization that my reprieve is long gone is finally setting in. with the economy crashing around us we will be spending our holidays in a balmy little place i call hell. the airfare is cheap, but the hidden fees are a bitch.

some of you might call me a scrooge. you'd be wrong, but you might be thinking it. obviously you didn't grow up in a family like mine, lucky you. count your blessings and put on your sequined holiday sweater. stop reading this blog and go to Jc-fucking-penney's to get your family holiday card photo taken. go! do it! gather around the fireplace and tell your family stories from yor or wherever you are from. because in my family this is the truth. and i'm not going to wear a shiny outfit, plaster a fake smile on my face for pictures, and compliment people on food that has a saturated fat content of 110% due to the heavy use of lard and velveeta. i'm not going to pretend that i really deep dpwn wanted a gift certificate to the dress barn. i'm not going to concede that a few hours spent near a well decorated tree make everything that is broken all better. i do not have the constitution to ignore the goddamn elephant(s) in the room. what i can do is introduce the elephant. "hello elephant. meet my family. family, elephant. can i get you some cheese covered cheese balls dipped in meat? how about a side of liquid sugary fat to drink? how about it elephant, do you feel lucky, punk?"

merry fucking christmas.

somebody get my shovel...

it is becoming abundantly clear that my neighbors landscaper is not well. they have apparently hired him to prune some shrubbery, make some brick borders, and fill in their rock beds. no big deal, right? that's what i thought when he started this job more than 2 weeks ago.

being that i live on what i call an inverted cul-de-sac, our neighbors backyards blend with ours in the way that slices of pie blend to make the whole. we each have our own wedge and they all meet in the middle. this landscaper guy is working in the wedge next to ours.

he shows up at random times, on any of the seven days in a week. he's been there at noon on a tuesday and 6pm on a sunday, and every other possible time in between. sometimes he stays and works for 30 minutes, other times a few hours. he always brings his enormous chocolate lab, and he always leaves his shovels and whathaveyou strewn about their yard when he makes his hasty exits. he wears large radio earphones and shouts greetings to my dogs as they bark furiously at his lab while he marks the yard. it would appear that he is unable to fully complete one task in one area at a time. he fills in a little rock on one side, and before finishing moves to the other side to work there for a while. he doesn't appear to be planting anything, just pruning old shrubs and laying rock. this whole thing is maybe a 2 day job, at most. did i mention he's been working on it for more than 2 weeks?

each day he returns (maybe) and my dogs go crazy, barking wildly at him and his dog . as an at-home parent i am forced to be a witness to this madness, held hostage by his noisy whims. some of you may know that i provide childcare for a 5 month old baby. it's like he's got some sort of radar and shows up to make a bunch of noise at all of the worst times. the baby just fell asleep? let me get out my weed wapper (or is it weed whacker?) and just trim up this grass along the fence. another perfect example came this morning at 6:30. my husky, steve, wanted to go outside. i let him out and he instantly began to howl. i thought to myself, "it can't be. that maniac can't actually be out there at this time of morning! it's still dark out for chrissakes". steve is not typically a barker, in fact this visiting dog and his unstable owner are the only thing that really makes him howl out in the yard. so i squinted my eyes to see if i could make anything out in the darkness and sure enough, loony landscaper was moving piles of dirt around in the dark. piles of dirt! what's loonier, if you need something to be loonier than that, is that he was gone by 7:30, leaving behind random piles of dirt throughout their yard.

this situation is vexing me! i can't figure him out. at first i thought he had adhd or something because of his random task swapping and sudden comings and goings, but now i am beginning to think that he might actually be mentally ill and having some sort of episode. the questions plague me. i wonder what he's listening to on those headphones? why are my neighbors allowing this strangeness in their yard? are they paying this nut-job by the hour? is he ever going to be done? i have actually contemplated going over there and finishing the job myself, just to make it stop. now who's crazy? (yea, it's me.) based on what he's accomplished so far i can safely say that i could have completed the same work in one afternoon with my 5 year playing next to me, and my baby friend strapped to me in the bjorn. i have considered it, believe me.

the other thing i have considered? sneaking up behind him when he's wearing those headphones and hitting him over the head with one of the many shovels laying around. i could bury the body under all that rock, and it wouldn't take me 2 weeks to do it.