mystic_savage

The friction of motherhood, what happens when I lose it, and how ashamed I am. My decision to go back on medication. The healing my parents did around all of it this weekend, and the talks and repair my kids and I have done with each other. What happens when I'm not true to myself, and how unsure I am of what that is. My decision to be celibate and single for a few months and the emotional fall-out from that in my own heart as well as in other people's. Why I did that, what it is about, the dismantling of my okcupid and fetlife profiles, the phone conversations, the in-person conversations, the weekend with A, the feeling of life-and-death struggle with myself, too familiar to be interesting, aging, fear of aging, and pain and where the hell is all this going? Don't know. Again: back to taking it one day at a time, not knowing. Allergies, chest cold, bronchitis, suffocation, inability to breathe, punishing myself and --- don't feel sorry for me, I'm a monster -- and the struggle to stay alive, affirm life, be human and find a way to accept it. I feel so, so, so...? odd. broken and not broken at the same time. On the right track, though you'd never know it to look at me. Unless you saw auras. Dunno. I'm probably (once again) much more ok than I feel like I am. Don't feel bad. Just...kind of don't feel. And then feel too much. So all this? Maybe medication's not such a bad thing.

Just thought you should know.

Have the kids this weekend.  They went with James to hapkido this morning while Karen and I figured out the materials list for Penny's loft.  Ok.  To be honest, Karen figured it out and I just asked a lot of annoying questions ("So...the little quotation marks are inches, right?") (which, thank Christopher Guest, I happened to know because of the Stonehenge scene in Spinal Tap).  I hate math and sort of dread this project.  Next step is to buy the lumber and get it home (two challenges there in the lack of $$ and lack of reliable transportation -- lack of $$ is the big one).  Final step is to build the danged thing, which I think Karen would just do for me if I keep Sam and Tera for a few hours so she can work uninterrupted.  Karen loves this sort of thing.  I'm kind of useless at it.

BUT: three loads of laundry are completely done and folded, and I just finished a load of dishes & will be watching Sam & Tera this evening so Karen & James can be out for awhile. Also?  I fed everyone lunch.  Not bad for someone whose self-concept is that she is completely lazy & irresponsible and unwilling to do anything that resembles work.

Tomorrow is a self-sacrificing visit to Hell on Earth Family Fun Center.  The plan is to get there the minute it opens and leave an hour later, before it gets too crowded.  I can't tell you how much I really, really hate going places that are loud or have a lot of people in them.  But going there is part of the Being A Better Parent intention I set at the parenting workshop I took last month.  I realized that I'm pretty good at being a fun parent at home, but that I never take the kids anywhere to do something that is fun for them unless another adult initiates it.  And even then I go under protest.  So this Family Fun Center thing?  It was my idea, and the first of a potentially large number of such outings.

Monday is the beginning of the "Living Well with Chronic Conditions" workshop series I'm doing at group health.  I think I know everything about it already, but I'm trying to stay open to the possibility that I might actually learn something that will improve my quality of life.  One key issue I've identified is that there are challenges unique to living with a condition that is mostly hidden and never bothers me--until it does.  One of the challenges is even remembering that I have a condition and taking care of myself in a way that avoids its symptoms.

Just talked to Penny on the phone, who told me she lost her purse at school.  A lot of responses occurred to me very quickly (see?  I told you you were too young to have a purse at school?  or  oh, sweetie -- did you have any money in it?  here, let me make it up to you).  I used a technique I used yesterday in the parenting workshop:  "What's your plan for finding it?" She told me in detail her plan about where she would look and whom she would ask, and then I used another technique and asked her if I could add a suggestion.  She said "sure."  I said, "You might ask Karen if she has any suggestions.  She's a pretty good resource."  Penny said she wanted to try her plan first and then if she still couldn't find it she would ask Karen.

What I loved about this conversation is that it showed me how resourceful Penny is.  She had a problem; she had a plan for solving the problem.  I'm interested in seeing how it turns out.  And I also love that I was able to end the conversation with "I'm proud of you for having such a thorough plan" rather than ending the conversation with something like "well, you'd better find that purse" or worse. 

Posted via email from mysticsavage's posterous

The first day of fall quarter is always a huge shock after the quiet of summer.  An extra 30,000 commuters are all of a sudden competing on buses and highways.  People wander all over our building looking lost.  Everyone is self-consciously dressed in something that looks put-together, even it's a casual kind of put-together.  But it's good energy too.  Hope and surprises and reunions with people who've been gone for months.  Cookies and brownies and coffee-on-tap in the office.  New majors coming in.  Old majors dropping by to fill out a form.  This is my second year with the department, but my third school year, so I know a lot of names.  I feel part of things, and happy.  I ran around a lot today and didn't focus very well on my work. But I was much more focused on my work *place* than I have been for months.  I love fall quarter.  It's busy and optimistic and not nearly as stressful as spring quarter. 

( more about the day...tra la la la la... )

I know I'm not the worst mother in the world. There are plenty of guilt-ridden Demeters vying for that title on Oprah. But I'm not proud of yesterday. Lost it with P. Apologized of course. As clearly as you can to a 3-year-old. Told her the things I always tell her when I stomp and rage and scream--that it's not her fault, that she has the right to be angry with me. But man, oh man, oh man. She's going to grow up to hate me as much as I used to hate my own mother. --V