Up, Down, Barely Up, and Down Again

My brain is mush, and has been complete mush for days.

I really thought I was doing OK, getting through this divorce stuff, then at the latter end of the week, I felt myself sinking, fast. Melancholy hit me like a ton of bricks.

But I carry on, for what else can one do, but carry on?

Today, I asked a co-worker, "Can one just quit, walk away, check-out?"
She replied, "Be careful of your phrasing, I have a different definition of checking-out."

Was that a Freudian slip on my part? I did wonder.

I am grieving, worried, frightened, suffering the anxiety I have held at bay these many months. The feelings have been there in the background, but most of the time I have been able to tamp them down, attempt to breath through them all, and consciously tell myself, "Let it go, just let it go." But, recently, my little mantra doesn't seem to work anymore.

I can still smile...laugh. That is a good thing...right?

But it takes very little for me to sink low again, to fight for sleep, or sleep too much.

It's funny, the emotions I can deal with, a few tears here and there are OK, they relieve the emotional buildup.

But not being able to hold onto a coherent thought, not to being able to dive into my mind and find facts, facts I need to perform my job. That causes me more distress that the emotional slump.

Caffeine doesn't help, I drank 5 extra large cups of coffee before 11:00 AM, and I still felt as if my brain cells weren't firing

Deficient...a good word for it. I am deficient in ability. I am deficient in my ability to communicate, to use the knowledge I know I have. When I really think about it, it has been many months since I could elucidate my thoughts in any meaningful sense.

A few rare moments, my mind snaps back, when I attempt not to think, but to just do. A young man came into the agency today, needing to be informed of the various programs and services our agency has to offer. My mind froze...programs? services? But then, as my eyes quickly glanced around our library...and I allowed my focus to encompass it all...I was able to spew it out, all that we do. The information coherent, organized, meaningful. When I finished my small presentation, there was no look of confusion on his face. He understood what we do, in fact was excited to find so many programs and services available in one place. That small moment left me feeling good...for about 10 minutes.

Then I felt the tightening in my neck and shoulders, felt myself deflating. I didn't give in this time, I squared my shoulders, held my head high, took a deep breath, and went on with the day. Dealing with one problem at a time, one moment at a time. At times, even forgetting the ever present melancholy that has overtaken me.

So, I tell myself, I know, even though it seems impossible at times, I will carry on, there will be an end to this, just as there was an end to my marriage, just as there will be a FINAL end to the divorce...sigh...someday.

In the meantime, while I continue to battle my latest demons, you can have some fun, carving up your very own Cyber Jack O' Lantern here.

Innermost Desires?

"... take a few minutes to look at the parts of your life that stimulate your innermost desires..."

~Daily OM~

I read the above line, and reread it, and read it again.

I'm not sure, I know what they are anymore. My innermost desires.

My mind is so full of just getting through the day, the next week, the next month, and the next...I have stopped playing with dreams of what I wish my future to contain...and yet...

My Innermost desires?

It should be simple now. I should know. I am 48 years old. Aren't I suppose to know?

* * * * * * *

Early last week, after hearing the very sad story of a woman only a few years older than myself. I experienced a deep visceral reaction, a life long desire came rushing at me.

Her life changed in an instant, she was pumping her car full of gasoline, when she suffered a massive stroke, a few months later came two heart attacks, a month after those, she was diagnosed with colon cancer. Life, for her, has become very difficult. Before...she was happily meandering her way through life, yet, in one day, it was all gone. Nothing will be simple for her again.

The story of her life is a pretty great one up until that fateful day last March. She is a person I would admire greatly if I knew her. She lived a simple, fulfilling life. She enjoyed her work, she gave back many times over to her community. She once enjoyed a life she considered rich and full.

It can happen to anyone.

It can happen to me.

So, what do I do about that?

As ASPI told me her story, so many scenarios ran through my brain, dreams I have half-heartedly entertained for years. Roadtrips, travel to near and far places. An urge to go...to go NOW!

My return comment to him was, "I don't want that to happen to me, I haven't done all the things I need to do yet."

ASPI replied, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I need to quit my job, and hit the road. I'll rely on the kindness of strangers to see me through."

ASPI laughed.

Thinking back over it now though, there was a serious undertone in what I said.
I can't seem to let it go. Her story, my response.

When I think back over my life, I realize I have been waiting, and waiting, and waiting, pushing my innermost desires so far back, so deep, that I no longer recognize them.

But, my immediate instinctive reaction was...Is this a risk I am willing to take?
I can't wait much longer. I don't want to wait any longer.

Alas though, my practical side came to the fore.
I have to wait, I have to have financial security for my old age. I don't have that yet.

But, my gut screams out at me. Do it! Do it! Do it! What if I don't have tomorrow?

I want to do it, want to so badly. I will always continue to search inward, but, I need more, I need to search outward, before I can be who I want to be at the end of my days.

But I won't do it, not this year.
I have a daughter that I must see settled into college. I am not worried about Mr. Son, I can encourage him, I can attempt to inspire him, but that is all, the rest is up to him. So, that leaves Miss Daughter.

Then...then...I tell myself...then it will be my turn.

But what will I do when it is my turn?

Will I let practicality win?

Or, will I find a way, to have both? Is that possible?

There are moments in life...small moments...which we must watch carefully for...or we may miss them.

I think I have missed some moments...I don't want to miss anymore.

If I continue on the path I am now following...I will miss more though.

It really sucks...this being a grown-up.

Week End Update

* * * * * * *

Miss Daughter... recovering nicely...and spending the weekend with her Dad shopping for a new/used vehicle...there goes her extra cash for college.

* * * * * * *

Mr. Son...hmmm...how is he doing? His bank account is now empty...so he is much more diligently job hunting...finally!

* * * * * * *

Soon-to-be-ex...today he hates me...I knew that was coming.

* * * * * * *

Me...long long week...but eventful one...

Last weekend my "girls" and I did our annual festival...it was extremely successful, the weather was perfect...and my feet HURT!

Then Miss Daughter's accident.

Got flirted with at work...that was kinda nice...good for my ego anyway.

Midweek, I felt like I was doing the Halloween Trick or Treat thing at the local Senior Health Fair...they lined up at each booth...holding their bags open for all the freebies we were giving away...not that the free things were all that great...but I did learn...FREE is good, very good! I sooo wanted to say something about their costumes though. ~grin~
Remember the poem, Warning by Jenny Joseph? When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple.

I was reminded of it over and over again. Which made me smile, and decide it is time for me to start practicing...especially this part...

"And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens . . ."

I added three new clients this week...all as different as could be...one couple was absolutely amazing, and someday I hope to be able to gather my thoughts enough to write about them.

I spoke with my mother on the phone, and wished I hadn't, because my wayward niece has been given the custody of her children back...and that makes me very very sad.

But...the best is yet to come...I am off to see THE BOSS on Sunday! How cool is that?

Hope all out in blogland have a wonderful weekend! I know I will!

~Humongous Smile~

She's Had Her Driver's License 11 Days.

The darkest hour of the night, that one just before dawn. A light rain had begun to fall an hour earlier. The roads which had been dry, and dusty for days, now wet and slick.

A young girl leaving for school.
"I have to drive carefully this morning, be aware, I saw over a dozen deer feeding in the field yesterday. I don't need to run into any this morning."
She drove much more conservatively than usual, at the second stop sign, she decided to test the brakes, test the road, to see how slippery it was. As she pressed the brake pedal down, the van slid a few inches before coming to a complete stop.

"Yep, I'm going to have to drive carefully. Gotta take the curves slower."

She turned right and proceeded on her way. Nerves on edge, this being the first time she had driven alone in hazardous conditions. Anticipating the hill with the two S curves coming up, she attempted to slow the van down, pressing on the brake at the top of the hill. "The pedal won't go down! Something's blocking it! What is it? She tried to sweep the tip of her shoe under the pedal to dislodge whatever it was, but it wouldn't move! OH God! The van's picking up speed! I'm losing control of the steering!" She didn't know what to do next. The van continued to pick up speed as as it descended the hill, it went out of control. Bouncing off of the guard railing, she tried pressing down harder, and harder on the brake pedal, but it just wouldn't go down. She had no way to control what was going to happen next.

Crossing her arms up over her face, she shouted, "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!"
" Dad is going to kill me!"

The Van veered sideways into the opposite hillside, slamming into it, before tipping over, the driver's side smashing, bouncing, and finally coming to rest against the roadway.

Her mind racing... she combed her hands through her hair, redid her pony tail three times as she attempted to gather her wits, she sat there endless seconds, the windshield wipers flipping back and forth, back and forth. She turned them off, turned off the lights, turned off the engine.

Another moment flew by, "Oh God! Another car coming down the hill might not see me! They might slam into me, then I would really be in trouble!"
She turned the engine back on, flipped the headlights back on.
Pulling her cell phone from her jean's pocket she dialed 911. "Nothing, no signal!" She dialed Mom's number, Dad's number, Brother's number. "Nothing! No signal! Fuck!"

She decided to take stock. Doing a mental check of her body, she seemed to be OK, her neck stung a little, so did her left hand, but otherwise, she was OK. Taking a breath she released the seat belt, and in one swift motion slid her body to a standing position. She could feel dirt under her feet, the drivers side window had broken out. Her hand was still stinging, she looked at it, pulled a piece of broken glass from her pinkie, and reached up above her head to try to open the passenger side door. It opened. Grunting, she attempted to push it all the way open so she could climb out, but she wasn't strong enough, the door slammed shut again and again. She felt panic begin to rise within her. "I've got to get out of here!"

She saw headlights sweep past her, and a car stop up ahead. A woman came to the side of the van. The woman asked, "Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm alright. Can you open the door up there, so I can get out of here?"
"Honey, are you sure you are OK? Turn off the engine, this car could explode, you don't know what could be leaking out!"
"Can you please, open the door? I need to get out of here!"
"No, I can't do that! The car could explode anytime!"
"Call 911! Please!"
"I can't there isn't a cell phone signal down here!"

At that same moment the young driver saw the bobbing of a flashlight through the trees on the opposite side of the road. A man came running up, yelling, "Are you OK?"
"Yes, can you get me out of here?"
"Sure, hold on, I'll get the door open while you climb out."

As the man climbed up the hill, and leaned over the side, she watched the woman return to her car, and drive away.
The man had the door open, "Here, grab my hand and I'll help you out!"
She tried to climb up over the passenger seat, but one foot was caught on something. She felt panic rise again, "I'm trapped! My foot is stuck!" Finally pulling it free, she pulled herself up and over the side of the door opening. The man helped her down. He looked for the woman to tell her to stay with the young girl.

"What the hell? Where did she go?"
"I'm going to run back into the house and call the police. You stay here, I'll be right back!"

More headlights, a school bus, the bus came to a stop. The driver came running over. The young driver knew her, it was her bus driver!
"Sally, Oh thank God!"
Sally ran toward the young girl, she had recognized her too. She asked the young driver if was OK, before bursting into tears, and sweeping her up in a huge hug. The younger driver allowed herself to let go for a brief moment, letting her tears fall, then she gathered her wits, "No more crying, Sally, I have to keep my cool."
"Sally, will you try to call my parents?"
"Sure thing, Baby. Come into the bus with me. What're their numbers?"
She quickly rattled off the three phone numbers of her family members.
"Slow down honey, I didn't catch all those.'
She repeated them, more slowly.
"Got it, I'll radio them in, and have the Superintendent call your Mom."
"OK."

She spent a few minutes anxiously talking, reliving the accident, with the other kids on the bus.

Traffic was getting heavier, the man from the house, noticing the young driver was in the capable hands of the bus driver, said, "The police're on the way, I'm going to direct traffic so there isn't another accident."

Another car pulled up, a volunteer fireman from the nearby town. Walking over to the bus, he gave the young driver a perfunctory examination to make sure she was OK, turning to the School Bus driver, he told her he would take care of the young driver. "Sweetie, let's get you back out of this rain, we can sit in my car, until more help arrives."
"Tell me what happened?"

She sat in the car, her body trembling slightly as it finally hit her."I wrecked my van! Dad's going to be so angry!"

She related the events of the past 20 minutes to the fireman.

Eventually the police arrived, and three more paramedics. One she recognized, she had known him since kindergarten. He spoke quietly with her, as he too, gave her a brief physical examination. Her neck and hand were still stinging in spots, but otherwise she felt OK.
Each new arrival requested her story, "What happened?" "What happened?" "How did it happen?' She felt like she would go nuts if she had to repeat the entire story one more time.

Another set of headlights. "Mom"
She watched her mother's frightened face visibly relax as she saw her daughter standing safely beside their friend, on the side of the road.

She felt her mother's warm hands gently caressing the sides of her face, softly touch the seatbelt abrasion on the side of her neck, felt her lips press against her forehead. "Are you sure you're OK? Thank God you're safe! I love you baby."

She felt her mother's arm surround her back, felt her hand take a firm grip on the back of her sweatshirt, as if to keep her from disappearing.

The rest happened in a surreal blur.

She listened as the paramedics and police officer spoke with her mother.
The fireman she knew, told her mother. "I've been on hundreds of teenage accident calls, I can honestly say...never have I encountered a young driver who could keep her cool, stay so calm through out it all like she has."
Mom just nodded her head.
"Why don't you two wait in your car, until the tow truck gets here? Is her dad on his way?"
"He should be here any minute, thanks Stan."
"We're going to leave now. Remember, anything changes, any pains, get her to the emergency room."
"Yes, immediately, thanks. Come on baby, let's get you warm."

They waited for her father to arrive. When he arrived fear coursed through her again, "He's going to be so mad!"

But, he wasn't. He pulled her close, hugging her tightly against him, she hugged him back, leaning into his shoulder, breathing in the safe smell of her Daddy.
"Are you really OK?"
Upon hearing her affirmative answer, he said," What did I tell you about driving on wet roads?"
"I was driving carefully. There was stuff left in the van from the weekend. A can or something rolled under the brake pedal, I couldn't push it down."
"At least you're not hurt."

The tow truck finally arrived, a few more questions to be answered, and Mom took her home.
Mom stayed outside in the car to use her cell phone to call the school, to call in late to work.

The young driver walked into the house alone. "Home."
That did it. She could let down her guard. She cried, and cried. Hugging the dog to her, as she realized how frightening and surreal it all felt. Finally allowing the adrenalin to slowly leach out of her.

Her brother came rushing in, and she repeated her story one more time.

* * * * * * *

Every parent worries when our children start driving on their own. Many young people have car accidents, hopefully only minor fender benders. No matter how many times it happens though, it is no less frightening. To receive that phone call. To hear that voice over the phone, to hear the words, "Your child has been in an accident."

I have been lucky, Mr. Son has had three traffic accidents, Miss Daughter the one today. None of those times have my children been badly hurt.

Each time as I have seen the damage done to the vehicle they were driving, my heart would clutch. I would imagine the damage that could have been done to their bodies. I would imagine how it would feel to lose one of them. I have no idea how I would handle that. Those imaginings leave me feeling as if I wouldn't survive the loss of one of my children. I think I would, but it is not something I wish to contemplate.

As the day wore on, Miss Daughter went to school, I went to work. There wasn't a moment through out the day though, that I did think of her, wonder if she was experiencing any new injury from the earlier trauma. I had left her with strict orders that if anything felt wrong she was to immediately go to the School Nurse's office, and call me. She made it through the day. She is stiff, and sore. Still upset, but safe.

She is safe. This time.

I can remember each time one of my children left my protection for the first time. The first time I left them with a babysitter. The first time as infants, or toddlers, they each rode in a vehicle with someone other than myself or their father as the driver of the vehicle. The first time they spent the night away from home, under the care of some other adult besides myself. The first time they were dropped off at the mall, or some other venue, without adult supervision. The first time they rode as a passenger with one of their young friends in the possession of a new driver's license. The first time they pulled out of the driveway, in possession of their own little laminated plastic badge of freedom.

So many, so very many times we parents learn the lesson of letting them go. We learn to let go, to allow them to become more and more independent. As we let go, we learn to appreciate their growing maturity, we learn to take pride in each new thing they accomplish on their own. We learn to feel more secure with each new independent decision they make. We encourage, and we learn to let them go.

But we never learn to let the worry go.

Life's Paths

"Honey, at the end of your journey, will you still be somewhere you don't truly want to be?

Risk is part of life. So is failure, even only perceived failure. Believe in yourself. Be what you wish your daughter to be."

* * * * * * *

Tonight, I decided to open up my blogsite meter, and noticed a search that had found this blog. That search referred to an entry I wrote back in January. As I reread that entry and the accompanying comments, I thought about how far I have come since then. Not just myself, but my children also. I am not sure about my soon-to-be-ex husband, not sure if he has changed, not sure if he has stopped pretending. I don't think he has, he still has not told anyone but his family members that I filed for divorce back in June.

The title of the blog entry was Shattered Hearts, at that time I was so full of fear, a fear I thought I had finally defined. I hadn't completely, I am not sure I have even at this point in my life. I still have fears...they at times feel overpowering...but each day finds me breathing through most of them, knowing I can continue my journey, knowing I will get through all of this, when I am ready.

For some reason, many reasons, I am not quite ready for what I consider the big showdown.

After rereading Shattered Hearts, contemplating the then thought processes I was attempting to sort through...I come back to the same thought again and again. The thought engendered by Fiona's comment. "Honey, at the end of your journey, will you still be somewhere you don't truly want to be?"

My journey continues, albeit slower than I anticipated. I had much forward momentum in those early months after moving away from our family home. I am moving at a slower pace now, but, I did change my path. I stepped away from the path, that had me ending up somewhere I did not want to be.

The path I am on now, is a new one, it is unfamiliar territory. But no matter where it ends, I do know that changing my path was the best choice for me.

As I watched my children tonight, I came away feeling fairly confident, this new path of mine has been a better one for them as well. They are both, in general, happier than they were just 9 short months ago.

Mr. Son has been battling inertia, depression, and even though the process has been a slow one, he has been making small changes in the way he is living, small achievements, which point him in a direction, I hope, is more positive. In the past week, he has gone fishing with a friend, been kayaking on the river twice, mowed the lawn for me, cleaned his car (it was a garbage bin), and cleaned his room (it was a dumpster!). All very good signs, especially compared to his previous lethargy. He is even excited about helping me at a local festival this coming weekend. ~although I gotta say, I am still a bit more than miffed at him for quitting his job~

Miss Daughter, is also happier, she has an aura of...hmmm...of contentment, she is more even-tempered now, there is a quiet joy emanating from her on most days. She is a teen-ager, and ups and downs are expected, but I sense that she has finally begun to adjust to this life she/we are living now.

Myself, I am happier too, I sometimes forget that, when the grieving overtakes me, when the uncertainties are allowed to take control of my thoughts. There have been many times when I have questioned why I blog, why I have spent my life journaling, but there is a reason, I can look back through time and truly see changes that are for me, difficult to comprehend any other way.

When I read the words I have written in the past, I see the movement toward a healthier me, I see that the journey I have embarked upon was needed. I know there will be many days to come, in which I will again question what I am doing, where I am going, and oft times even ask myself if what I am doing is right and true. But, I have my own words and those who occasionally take the time to comment here, to remind me of exactly why I am on this journey.

It is so simple, when I take the time to look. I do want to learn to believe in myself again, I do want to be like the woman I wish my daughter to be.

Loving, strong, willful, determined, confident, joyful, giving, creative, ever curious, adventurous, and most importantly...feeling free to...just be herself.

The path I now follow is unknown in length, filled with unknown hazards, but, I have to believe, there will be many unknown joys along the way as well. In fact when I think about it, I have already encountered a few of those joys.

Some Days

A yellow Ticonderoga Number 2 pencil, used up except for the last three inches, the eraser worn down to a mere nubbin, shallow indentations indicating the damage done by teeth gripping it when it was newer, longer. The lead almost flat, slightly rounded, shiny, barely seen.

That last dried out, hardened curve of crust, leftover on the pizza platter.

A coffee mug, with an inch of icy cold coffee left in the bottom, the creamy tan liquid decorated with little swirls of curdling creamer.

A Fair Ground, empty except for overflowing garbage bins, and small twirling wind dervishes filled with bits of paper and leaves blowing against deserted buildings, lingering in the air is the faint scent of sawdust, petroleum, and stale elephant ears.

Drained, worn out, used up, lost.

* * * * * * *

There are some days when I feel as if I am introduced to the worst of humanity, and if I let it, I can become quite distressed over it.

I experienced several last week, on Monday, a phone call came, and a story was related to me, which had me in tears. Not because of the current chapter unfolding, but because I could foretell the end of the story. I predict a very unpleasant ending to a woman's life. Tears slipped from my eyes, after I hung up the phone. But, I also knew I had to let my sadness go, because then, and now, I know there is nothing I can do for a poor sick, demented woman, married to the villain of a horror story. In fact there will probably never be a point in time when I will be able to do anything for her. I do not know her name, or where she lives. I do know she is isolated from the world, with only an uncaring selfish husband to fill it, there will be no one willing to report her eventual maltreatment to Adult Protective Services, that too, made me sad, just plain sad.

Another dreg of humanity popped into my life on Thursday. The local Adult Protective Service Investigator (I am going to call him APSI from now on to save on typing...yep I am lazy), telephoned in the early morning hours. The day before ASPI had made a visit to the home of an elderly woman, a woman who is basically...just old, worn out, and ill...unable to independently care for herself anymore. She recently moved in with her son and his family. Her daughter-in-law is her caregiver.

Sounds nice doesn't it? Her family is looking after her, that's the way it is supposed to be, right?

Wrong!

The daughter-in-law isn't caring for her mother-in-law, she is full of uncaring. She is full of anger that she must give up some of her precious time to assist a frail elderly woman with her bathing. Not much else, just bathing. APSI referred the family to me, with the hope I could arrange some in-home care services for the woman, hoping I could find the funding to 'save' this woman from her family, by bringing in an outsider to help her two days a week with a bath.

I took the referral, and made contact with the daughter-in-law. As I said, I do sometimes feel as if I deal with the bottom feeders of our world. Daughter-in-law is one of those dregs, with not even the basics of common decency inhabiting her soul.

After a garbled 30 minute conversation with Daughter-in-law, and a five minute conversation with Mother-in-law. "What did I do?", Mother-in-law weakly wailed. "I try not to cause any extra work. I try to make them breakfast every morning, and I can make my own bed. Will you come visit me?" I decided then and there, I would move this family to the top of the wait list. Attempt to get services for Mother-in-law as soon as I possibly could.

I then made a follow-up call to ASPI, thanking him for bringing (insert dripping sarcasm here) oh-so-wonderful Daughter-in-law into my day. I repeated much of the distasteful conversation Daughter-in-law and I had exchanged. In the end letting him know, that I had pulled out the stops, and there would be services provided by the end of next week. He thanked me, and we both breathed easier. Why? Because, we know Mother-in-law will be safe as long as there is an outsider visiting the home on a regular basis (a bath aid), and when things go badly, (as we both know they will), that outside visitor will be able to report it to ASPI, and Mother-in-law will be placed in a nursing home. To me that is saddest thing of all, she doesn't want to live out her final days in a nursing home, but to experience a peaceful, quality life, she will be better off in one.

ASPI and I shared several conversations over the course of the week, (I do believe my weeks follow a theme), I had made three separate reports of potential abuses to him. One luckily turned out to be nothing, just an attempt by a disgruntled family member to cause some trouble. One will be resolved, and one waits, and waits for the worst to happen before ASPI will be able to step in.

By the end of the day on Thursday, I think we had spoken five separate times. ASPI'S last phone call to me was a joking request for some psychiatric care for himself. I told him I could arrange it only if he shared the shrink-time with me. We were both disillusioned and disheartened, and yet, full of relief, happier than we had been only a few hours before. We accomplished what sometimes seems like the impossible. We will have eased the life of at least one of our fellow human beings. That doesn't happen a lot.

* * * * * * *

Now, looking back over last week, I can be thankful I do what I do.

I am thankful for ASPI, I am thankful to have the federal funding at my fingertips to be able to make a difference in Mother-in-law's life. I am thankful the week ended on a positive note. So was ASPI. I am thankful, we can work together, I am thankful we could collaborate to improve a life quickly, and relatively pain free, at least relatively pain free for one elderly woman. I am thankful that I get the opportunity to work with people like ASPI, I am thankful for all of the wonderful people I work with/beside. The majority of people I work with, or collaborate with, do the jobs they do, because they love them, because they just plain care. Sometimes I think that in itself is a rarity in our world.

So many phone calls from people in need, only some of them am I able to help. So many phone calls from people who think they are in need, yet really, they need very little, they seem to have some obscene sense of entitlement, the world owes them something. Yet, they have done nothing to make the world a better place. So many phone calls from people who just need an objective listening ear, a new perspective on the life they are living. So many phone calls from people who have no where to turn, no resources, no family or friends willing to offer them aid. So many phone calls that wear me out, wear me down until I only feel I am a shadow of myself.

* * * * * * *

All it takes though, is one home visit, and that beautiful moment when I can say, "You qualify for services, you qualify for funding, tell me your most urgent need." The flash of relief and joy that illuminates the faces of those I serve. Those moments are the best of the best.

* * * * * * *

Yet, I still feel worn out, as if I am fading, only a shadow of myself. I know it isn't my work. I know it isn't all the people I speak with. It is just...just...me...not getting to the end of this divorce business. It is me, procrastinating, letting my fears take control, instead of breathing through them. It is me, just me, wearing myself out.

* * * * * * *

Sigh...the hugest...most humongous of sighs.

I need a hug...I need a vacation...a long, long vacation...I need downtime...I need time away from me.

* * * * * * *

Untangling the Threads

"Everyone's life is an intricately woven tapestry that envelopes us without really realizing it. Up close we only see the individual fibers but if you step back you see the whole panorama."

~Phil~

* * * * * * *

Our lives a tapestry? I have often imagined our souls as spun of fine gossamer fabric, beautifully embroidered by those other souls that have touched our lives deeply, so why not our entire lives? If one remembers Greek Mythology, and the story of the Moirae, one does wonder if there are threads of destiny woven into our lives. Would it be something we would want to see, the entire tapestry of our lives?

In my attempts to analyze this, my mind ranged far and wide, trying to understand my own life. My past, my present, my future.

When we review our lives, most of us see the flaws much more easily than we see the beauty. Are we looking too closely, instead of taking a step back, and seeing our entire tapestry?

Over years of living, portions of our tapestry become threadbare, many of the threads are frayed, weakened, unraveling, but they are still beautiful, if we allow ourselves to widen our view, to see how they have been woven together to create the person we have become.

* * * * * * *

Along with this image of our lives as a tapestry, I had other thoughts threading their way in. Last week I left a comment on another blog. In effect asking the question, "What would make you happiest?"

My question to our fellow blogger gave me pause.

Do I know the answer to my own question?

I have entertained many dreams over the years of my life. Finally being able to accomplish some of those dreams, is/was supposed to make me happier. Happier than what? Than I was/am?

But I don't know I will become happier in the achievement of those dreams. I can't. My dreams are of the future. We cannot predict the future.

I can only hope I reach some of them, or weave new ones into the tapestry of my life.

What is it about us humans? So many of us search for happiness, as if it is elusive, we are not content with our now, we instead hope for future happiness.

Yet, when I take a step back, then zoom in on individual moments of my life, I do see threads of happiness woven throughout. I know what happiness feels like, I even know what contentment feels like, we tend to dwell on their opposites though. Why?

I have felt happiness, I have felt contentment. Why do I keep thinking there is more, will be more, has to be more? Each day of my life has moments of happiness in it. Each day of my life has moments of joy. Each day of my life has moments of peace. True, they can quite often be wee little moments, but they are there. When I remember to look for them.

Finding those threads of happiness can be simply noticing the small beauties. A sunrise, a sunset, a moonrise, a thunderstorm, a bird in flight, a cold drink on a hot humid day, a squirrel scampering through the trees, the sun and breeze creating flowing sparkling diamonds over the water, a blue blue sky filled with fluffy white clouds, the pure laugh of a young child, a smile on the face of someone I love, hearing the voice of someone I miss over the phone, the chuckles emitted when someone leaves me a silly, quirky little voice mail message, the goofy emails sent just because someone thought of me when they wanted to send out smiles, the slender curve of Miss Daughters neck, the amused sparkle in the eyes of Mr. Son. The sense of accomplishment I feel at the completion of a needed task. People I have never met, but only spoke with over the phone, warm me with their words, almost on a daily basis. These are all moments filled with happiness. There are many many more simple pleasures, happy moments. They add up. When I remember to look for them, when I remember to see them.

* * * * * * *

In the midst of weaving my present I often feel as if the shuttle is stuck, I am in the limbo land of waiting. Waiting for my marriage to finally be over. (That ain't gonna happen until I make some decisions, me, not my soon-to-be-ex, but me.) My life feels as if it is in perpetual stasis.

Much of the past was spent agonizing over my decision to leave my marriage. I am no longer worried about my now, but I am still worried about the future. An equalization of sorts when I take into account the huge tangle of fear and worry I wove and lived with for so very long.

There are times in which I tell myself, I am taking a breather, letting my emotions achieve a sense of balance, before I move on.

At other times I tell myself, I am stalling out of fear of the unknown. Yet, it is all unknown, it will remain unknown until I weave the next thread, and the next, and the next.

I have become impatient with myself. I know I still hold fear tightly within. I fear my own flaws. I fear my own frayed edges. I fear my own fear. I have and continue to search for the threads of fear in my life tapestry. When I find them, I attempt to tie the tattered threads back together, trying to weave through the fear.

I know I must find all of those threads of fear, yet I seem to be blind to many of them. Perhaps I fear I cannot live up to my own expectations of what I wish my future to contain. That vague future happy. I am so damn weary of my fears. I am close to being ready to move the shuttle forward again. The thing is, I want it to be easy. But, it isn't going to be easy. When I think it through I realize I have already woven the hardest image (leaving), and it was easier than I had imagined. Don't get me wrong, it was extremely difficult, still is. But, it was not as difficult as my fears imagined it to be, easier than the story I wove, created from thoughts threaded with fear. I allowed my fears to control me as much as I allowed my soon-to-be-ex to control me.

So much of what we do, how we think, how we feel, becomes a habit. A habit is not something easy to break once it is entrenched within our psyche.

I wove a habit of living with fear. I lived the habit of being controlled. I wove the habit of thinking I was unhappy all of the time.

I keep thinking, I am slowly picking out the threads woven by those habits, but, maybe, I am not. Because, there are still many days when I forget, when I look upon the weaving of the past, and see only my flaws, blame myself for all that went wrong. I have to take a step back, use a long sweeping gaze that sees the entire panorama spread before me, to remember it wasn't all me. It is so difficult sometimes to hold onto that thread of thought. I don't want my soon-to-be-ex to be a bad man, I don't want him to seem mean and uncaring, I really don't think he is...completely...he is just the product of his own tapestry, one in which the weaver decided to weave similar scenes over and over again. I want to...wish to see beauty in his tapestry, as well as my own. I need that, for my children, for me.

But my own tapestry is hidden by my own shadow, I stand too close, blocking the light, I forget and only remember the pain I caused, at those times, I need to remember to take a few steps away, view it from a different perspective, then, maybe, I will see there is beauty too.

If only, I remember to look.

* * * * * * *

Mr. Son. Me. A conversation.

Mr. Son started a new job yesterday. I was excited. He was going to be out in the world again, and making some money to boot. Plus, he was working!

Today, I arrived home around 5:45, his car was already here. I walked in to find him at the computer. I could tell by his eyes, that he had only recently awoken.

* * * * * * *

"How long have you been home?"

"A while."

"What are you doing?"

"Applying for jobs online."

"Why?"

"I quit."

"What?"

Long pause, my anger and disappointment building.

"I have never been so disappointed in you!"

"Never!"

"Why? Why did you quit!"


"I couldn't face it, it was like a factory job, monotonous, no thinking, nothing, I just couldn't face it."

* * * * * * *

I left the room, poured myself a glass of wine, exited the house, sat on the deck watching the clouds, thinking, thinking, thinking. How do I get through to him? How do I make him understand that this was a really stupid move? God, I am such a failure as a mother, a son who's a quitter, who won't stick it out because it is boring? A son who doesn't know what it's like to be hungry, to need a place to sleep, to not be clean, to be sick and have nowhere to go, to have nothing? How did I screw up so badly? How did we? Every thing's been too easy for him. Do I kick him out? I can't do that, I know I can't, and even if I did, his dad would just let him move in with him. What the fuck? He's an idiot! God, what did I do wrong?

I went back into house, he was still at the computer, typing away, and talking on the phone to a friend. I lay down on the bed, closed my eyes, and just listened. His answers to Z's questions were some of the answers I was seeking. But, they weren't good enough for me.

Mr. Son signed off the computer, and started to leave. I asked him to stay, to talk to me.

* * * * * * *

"What are your dreams?"

" Your pie in the sky dream, the dream that you may even think will never come to fruition, that you may even think others think is stupid, but you want to do it anyway?"

"I don't have any."

"I really hope you do. In fact, I can't imagine you not having some dream, something."

"I don't have one that anyone would think is too high, or too stupid."

"OK, then, tell me, tell me please. What is it? What do you want?"

"I want to travel."

"OK, you want to travel."

"How are you going to do that, what else are you going to do? What else do you want?"

"I love you so much. You have such a good, loving heart, and so smart, the way you think, analyze and understand so many concepts, theories, and constructs constantly amazes me. But right now, I am so disappointed with what you've done. I want more for you. You have to think about your future, when you're my age, even younger, when you're in your late 20's, your 30's, you have to have health insurance, savings, things are going to change here really soon, in a matter of years, maybe less than five, most definitely within ten, there will probably be no social security, people are going to be scrambling for jobs, any job."

"I know. I want to make a difference though. I want to make people aware."

"Aware of what?"

"I want people to know what we're doing to our climate, to our world, but I don't want to do that through science, that isn't enough, I want to do it through pictures, with words."

"So how come you aren't writing, how come you aren't taking photographs?"

"Because I don't have a good enough camera."

I just shook my head.

"Because I am afraid...I am afraid I will do the same thing with it that I have done with everything else."

"What is that?"

"I will stop."

"I will realize it is not enough. It just won't fit."

"I couldn't see myself getting a job with a linguistics degree. I really like linguistics, but what could I do with it? How is that going to help make people aware of what is happening to our world? "

"Everything we do adds to it. I have to tell myself that. One person can make a difference. Even if it is only one person's life. We can make a difference. I make a difference."

"And, as to languages, linguistics, science, photography, art...all of your interests can get you there. Each one can/does build upon the other."

"I have told you so many times, you can use your knowledge of Spanish, you can use your knowledge of Japanese to get jobs. Hell, you could tutor other kids, and still go to school."

"You have to get back in school. You're not going to have any job better than boring without an education, without a degree, in fact if you want to go far, you'll need at least a Masters. You have to find that spark inside you, that tells you that YOU WANT IT."

"Mom, you do make a difference, and I know that one person can make a difference, but I want more than that."

"Great, you want more than that."

"How badly do you want it? You don't seem to want it badly enough."

"You said you wanted to get back in school, you said you didn't want to take out loans to do that. If so, why did you quit a job that would have had you saving over a thousand a month? You could have set a monetary goal, and when you reached it then you could've quit, to go for your dream. But you didn't. What do you want? You have to find out what you want. You have to want it so badly that you will do almost any job to get it, it doesn't matter if you're cleaning up raw sewage, if you want it badly enough, you'll do it. Find what you want, find what you so badly that the job won't matter, the goal will matter."

"I am disappointed in myself, it was a really stupid move."

"You're right, it was. You're an idiot, you may have some genius level IQ, but you are a genius level idiot.

"So, if you really want to be a photo journalist, then get your ass back in school. And, ya'know what? Everything you are interested in isn't mutually exclusive, it does...it can all flow together. Anyway...who is going to listen...who is going to want to read what a 21 year old drop out has to say? Who's going to believe you know what you're talking about? Like it or not, our society listens to the educated. Why?"

"Because, we know they were interested enough to stick it out, to study it all, to work for it. You're right, I am a genius level idiot."

"Yes, you are. Find it, do it. Please, please get back in school. It really does matter. It all ends up mattering. Take your photo classes, the journalism, the English, literature, writing classes, take electives of all the other subjects that interest you, it all does matter. Then, people will listen, at least some."

"You're right, when I was in school, even the semesters I took such varied classes, linguistics, languages, philosophy, biology, astronomy, calculus, they all fit together, they all were connected in one way or another."

"You're an idiot."

"Call them back, tell them you want the job back."

"Alright, I know you won't, I'm not sure I could make myself do that. But, you do owe H an apology, he gave you a reference, got you the interview, you owe him that at least. I don't care what you say, tell him it was boring beyond words, but apologize to him for being such an idiot."

"I do owe him an apology. I have to find something positive out of all this."

"There is nothing positive. You are an idiot. You had a chance to make some money for school, for traveling, to buy that camera you want, now the only thing you have open to you are minimum wage jobs, that there are a thousand people applying for. And tell me, how is working in the stock room at Wal-Mart going to be any better?"

"I made a mistake, but I won't go back, I hope this will make me realize that I do have to work harder for my goal. I have to do something, and soon."

"Yeah. You owe me rent."

"What?"

"You owe me rent, and tomorrow, you are going to mow, clean the house, walk the dog, and apply for jobs." "Are you using a resume? "

"No, I haven't updated my resume in years."

"Then do it. Make sure you list all the responsibilities you've had on other jobs. As I said, each experience builds on the other. I don't care what kind of job you are applying for, attach your resume. It shows what you can do, what you want to do, and what you have learned. Use your transcripts too. And if you want an interesting job, then apply at some of the campus bars as a bouncer, use your size if not your brain. But get a job, save, go for you dream."

"Why, those jobs don't matter, the classes don't matter? There is no solid field of study on my transcripts?

"I could do that, K works in a bar. We talked about a lot of this stuff you and I are talking about recently, he's almost done with school, and having a really hard time making himself go to class, but he knows he is almost done."

"Yep, almost all of your friends are almost done, but, that doesn't matter either. What matters, is...you have to get back in school. An education, and work experience will all matter in the long run. I just want you to chase your dreams. "

"Your Dad, made a mistake, he's worked a job for 25 years he hates, has always hated, because of security."

" But, it's not like I can really talk, I took the easy way out for years. I stayed home, let someone else take care of me. Now I too, have to chase my dreams. I want to, I hope I do. I want you to, please. Find what you want. Find what you want and go for it. You're an idiot by the way."


"You mean Dad was afraid to take a risk."

"He does hate it, it has even made him dislike things he used to love. We talked about that. He asked me if I liked working on my car. I told him, kinda yeah. He said he used to like it too, but with all the stuff he has to do in his job, he hates working on things now."

"Maybe so."

"I know this, I believe...yes...you should love what you do...when you are out there working to make a living to live the rest of your life...but now, and while you are in school...that doesn't matter as much, because you will be working to be able to do what you love. Now you work to eat, to pay your way through school, so you can do what you love. So you can try to make a difference. Right now this instance, you can't do that."

I hit him on the knee

"You are an IDIOT!"

* * * * * * *

He smiled, agreed with me, and went to his friends house. I hope, I pray, as he is driving, and talking with his friends, he is also thinking very very hard about the stupid mistake he just made, and hoping beyond hope, that he is thinking about making his dreams come true.

Sigh...he is an idiot. But I love him, idiocy and all. I have no idea if the conversation made any difference. Maybe I should have been tougher, meaner. But, that is not me. I can only say what I feel, in the way I feel it. I hope it was enough. Will be enough, I will not give up on him. I will not stop nagging, and pushing...and eventually, I know if I have to harden my heart to do it. I will push him out of the nest...HARD!

And, I also know, he probably won't mow the yard tomorrow.

Movie and Muscial Monday--Falling Slowly

I never thought I would be posting a You Tube video on any of my blogs, mainly because I have dial-up and it is very difficult to view videos, but I saw the movie Once, back in August. I fell in love. It is a wonderful film, beautifully done, plus Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova created magic, their two voices as they blend are truly amazing. Magical.

If you have not seen Once, I highly recommend it.

Anyway, this past weekend I purchased the Soundtrack CD. I love every song, it brought so many scenes to mind. In addition, the song Falling Slowly makes me cry each time I listen. Actually several of the songs make me cry, hmmm, maybe I am extra emotional right now.

I have the hope that this video is a good one (since as I mentioned demon dial-up is the not the best for viewing videos...sigh).

Anyway, have a listen, see the movie, and fall in love.






I don't know you
But I want you
All the more for that
Words fall through me
And always fool me
And I can't react
And games that never amount
To more than they're meant
Will play themselves out

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice
You've made it now

Falling slowly, eyes that know me
And I can't go back
Moods that take me and erase me
And I'm painted black
You have suffered enough
And warred with yourself
It's time that you won

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice
You've made it now

Take this sinking boat and point it home
We've still got time
Raise your hopeful voice you had a choice
You've made it now
Falling slowly sing your melody
I'll sing along