Hell-ish

With the excitement of the apocalypse over, I suppose I don't have a good reason not to march onward with the Thirty Days. I haven't wanted to write this entry, but I've reached Day 8:

Someone who made your life hell
Perhaps the irony of my answer is that this person isn't really IN my life at all. In fact, my sister, the cardiac patient, has fought and kicked and sworn and slammed doors to kick me OUT of her life.

At the same time, I'm working through counseling and some of the things that come up go waaaaaay back to when we were little. I have unanswerable questions about how her birth and traumatic health problems began a pattern of independence and self-reliance that really wasn't appropriate. Attachment disorders, self-esteem issues, control problems. How much stems from the fact that I was the older, healthy child who didn't "need" attention the way the sick baby did?

She is incredible in her tenacity, though. She's more than doubled any life expectancy every given to her. She is the sole surviving patient who had a particular Fontan procedure done - it was discontinued because of complications later in life. She pursued a double-major at Northwestern University, despite needing pace-makers and repeated surgeries.

She's also gotten herself in a whole mess of trouble and she is on my mind a lot...mostly wondering if she's even alive, let alone safe. There's nothing I can do for her but have faith that she is where she needs to be in the Grand Scheme.

*sigh* I don't blame her, nor do I blame my parents. There is no fault for the complications of a disabled sibling. It's just hard...sometimes hell-ish.

End of the World?

Merry Solstice! The precise midpoint is 11:12 UTC on 12-21-12. Mayans declared this the end of their calendar, and there are many "End of the World" parties tonight. Some experts have said rather than being predictive of anything profound, the completion of those 1,872,000 days is more a matter of bookkeeping.

1,872,000 days. That's a lotta days to forecast. At some point, your accuracy must get a little less...um...accurate, and that is pretty much the answer for this calendar. This is like the odometer of your car turning over. It doesn't stop running when it goes from 999999 to 00000. In fact, the Mayans not only did not leave any trace of doomsday theory, but they wrote down some dates for events beyond the end of the great calendar cycle.

The prophecy is one of optimism. It is the time of Pachokuti (pacha means earth or time; kudi means the end of, or to step outside of), the one who brings an era to a close. [Note: Pachoduke build Machu Picchu and expanded the Inka Empire to a territory larger than the United States.] Some have suggested that this is the end of humanity's self-absorbed focus, that we are about to evolve into Homo luminous.

This does not mean that there will be no labor pains in birthing a new humanity. Alberto Villoldo states, "We have to dedicate ourselves to becoming comfortable with our shadows as well as our light, healing the wars within us a best we can so that all of humanity can heal and evolve." Each of us must play a part in becoming the Pachakuti. We can choose to evolve into Homo luminous. Imagine whom you want to be.

First Rude, then Beloved

I have mentioned my friend, Rude13, a few times on here. He's been a friend pretty much as long as I have known Beloved, was a long-time housemate, and is Boy's godfather. He is also an artist. I own a couple of his early works.

Recently, he undertook a challenge. Thirty landscapes in thirty days. Personally, a thirty day challenge of ANYTHING is tough. I mean, really...all I am trying to do is type on the computer and I haven't managed to complete a challenge on time. To do it in an artistic medium? In paint?!?

I'm not an artist, but I have played with paints a little. It's not as easy as it looks. Some of these are really fantastic! Take a look!


Speaking of the 30 Day...here is my 7th day on the Truth List.
Someone who has made your life worth living for

Is it any surprise that I name Beloved? No? *chuckles* Well, it shouldn't be.
When I met Beloved, I was dating another guy...but it wasn't a good place. My boyfriend had gotten involved with other things and in my desperation to regain his attention, I was starving myself to get skinny. I was wear clothes I wasn't particularly comfortable with. I was working retail and in full teenage-angst with my dad. I was taking A&P and doing human dissection, and typically reeked of BioPerm or Quat, depending on the day.

On Tuesday, March 14, 1995 my study partner invited me to join her at a cafe for a "double date", mine being blind. If you ask him, Beloved will tell you that when I stepped through the door, he decided he was *going* to meet me. For my part, I nervously glanced around the crowded room, found my partner, and glanced at the guys at the table. Approaching, Beloved and J stood up, taking my hand and kissing it, introducing themselves.

They were best friends with long hair, black leather jackets, combat boots, and wickedly romantic. By the end of the evening, we were playing mancala with sugar cubes and deciding when to get together again.

By the end of the second get-together, I was thoroughly smitten with Beloved. J was very sweet and IS a fantastic friend, but the sparks were sharp and brilliant with Beloved. *wry smile* My study partner never forgave me. Ah well.

Beloved took to catching me after my lab, stealing my book, car keys, etc. and refused to give them back until he had WATCHED me eat. As the spring wore on, I found bouquets of violets on my windshield in the FULL parking lot. We'd lay in the new grass and chase the goslings when they got too close. By the end of April, I told my boyfriend I was leaving him. By November, Beloved had asked me to marry him.

It's been seventeen years, and the more things change, the more I realize what a gift I have in my soulmate. No one in my life has questioned me so little, accepted me so much, and made me laugh and smile more. Even in the worst times, even when I have screamed and fought and pushed him away, he hasn't given up on me. He values my input, yet tucks me in to bed like a child. Without a doubt, he has made it possible for me to wade through the dark days and helped me fly on the bright days. I wish I could give every person what Beloved has given to me.

Never again...

Something you hope you never have to do

I hope I never have to choose between evils.

Sure, there are lots of times that we don't like the choices that are presented, but they aren't truly evil. I hope that I never face the desperation of choosing between options that I will regret for the rest of my life. I already carry a taste of that burden in my heart, and I hope to never, ever face it again.

Hope

Hey...remember, I was working on a 30 Day thingy! I find myself sitting in a house with dirty dishes, a mountain of laundry to fold, and Christmas decor that needs attention...so, what the heck! I'll blog!

Something you hope to do in your life.

"Life is not measured by the moments of breath you take, but by the breath taking moments."

I want to live recklessly, to let go and fly high. I want to create the breath-taking moments, cherish them, share them. I want to make a difference in this world, one that I can look back at as I wander out of this life and nod sagely, and say, yes, I made that difference.

I used to think that it might be something huge, like becoming the first female priest in the Catholic Church (yes, that was in fact one of my goals, once) or curing cancer. I grew up a bit and thought maybe I'd make a difference by running for office or otherwise investing myself in politics. I evolved into a kinky-poly person and presented a few times, and thought maybe I'd be a sex activist of some sort. I became a mother and I wonder if the difference I will make in the world is in the life of children...mine, in particular.

Deep down inside, I am not satisfied with what I have accomplished so far. It isn't that the works I have done, the ideas I have put into the Universe are not of value or don't make a difference...it is simply that I am not fulfilled. I have not found the core calling for my existence yet. Still...there is something out there waiting for me, and when I find it, it will change everything.

Terror

A friend posted on Facebook that she was afraid to drop her kindergartener off at school today. The terror of the school attacks in Newtown, CT and Chengping, China on Friday, as well as the reports of averted attacks in Indiana and Oklahoma, are indeed heart-wrenching.

Still, I don't know how to respond. Am I a bad parent because it honestly didn't even cross my mind as I made Boy's lunch this morning? Am I a bad person for believing that we are ALL at fault for allowing a community to develop where such things are possible? Am I jaded and cold to say that life will go on and that I doubt much will change for the better?

Terrorists will continue to chip away at our communities, and they will continue to win. They are adept at finding weak points and exploiting them. They make us weak through isolation, encouraging us to shutter our windows and lock our doors.

People are afraid of their neighbors. Every thing we do is on surveillance because we don't trust anyone. The crusade for democracy abroad, largely unsuccessful in its own right, has proven remarkably effective in building a technological template that could be just a few tweaks away from creating a domestic surveillance state -- with omnipresent cameras, deep data-mining, nano-second biometric identification, and drone aircraft patrolling "the homeland."

People are afraid of immigrants and foreigners. What happened to the Land of Opportunity? Where is the "melting pot"? I have friends who have come to the US of A to learn, and they have shared their difficulties in finding housing because they are from Italy or Canada or Israel and have an accent. I know people who are afraid of visiting ME in my home because there are billboards printed in other languages.

The lives lost are a tragedy. I, too, have lost loved ones and I know that mourning goes on through the rest of your life. However, we do not have to allow the losses to cripple us. Instead of being sad or angry because of what has happened, reach out. It is our connections and our willingness to be open to each other that makes us strong! If everyone knew the names of every person on their block, how much stronger, how much MORE could we do?

Association and causation

There is a difference between 'cause' and 'association'. Consider the example of a correlation between increased ice cream sales and violent crimes.

The ice cream sales (or consumption of ice cream) is not the cause of the increased violent crime rates, though. Both are caused by higher temperatures, and in reality have nothing to do with each other.

You can test associations to see if they are causal fairly easily with two questions.
* Does the presumed cause precede the effect?
* Does removal of a presumed cause lead to a reduction in the risk?

Obviously, if you banned ice cream in the summer, there would still be increased violent crime. There is no causation between the two.

All well and good. My question is am I simply perceiving an association between an increase of nightmares/sick kids/rough nights and the nights that Beloved is gone? Or is there a causation involved?

*sigh*

Alzheimer's and cancer

Okay sports fans, I got into an academic mode and my brain is ready to explode. Are you ready?

Alzheimer's disease and cancer are basically the same thing!
That is the theory I would like to suggest to the medical researchers of the world. Since not everyone is a total nerd like me, I'll try to start at the beginning. Let me know what you think.

FACTS:
Normal cells, regardless of function, reproduce by duplicating their DNA and then splitting in half. This process is called mitosis, and it is controlled by operons, a cluster of genes within the DNA. While the DNA is usually replicated exactly, sometimes a mutation occurs.

MY THEORY:
In cancer, the mutations occur within the operons that are supposed to regulate cell replication and growth. They get stuck in the "ON" position, causing the cells to replicate without purpose. They no longer specialize as "colon" cells, "prostate" cells, "brain" cells because they are forced to replicate too quickly. The result is a mass of tissue we call cancer.

********************************************************
In Alzheimer's, it is a little different. Things like brain growth, high stress, and cholesterol transportation encourage the brain to make amyloid beta proteins. The astrocytes (star-like cells you probably associate with nerve cells) are usually able to "eat" these proteins and there is no problem. In Alzheimer's patients, there are lots of "amyloid plaques"...hard clusters of the amyloid beta protein that did not break down...and "tangles"...neurons that are tangled up with protein pieces.

MY THEORY:
Like any other cell, neurons reproduce and mutations can occur. With Alzheimer's, the mutation again strikes the operons, but instead of cell replication, it is the protein regulators that get stuck "ON". Too much of the amyloid and tau proteins are produced and the astrocytes are unable to keep up. The result is the development of plaques and tangles, which cause the symptoms we call Alzheimer's disease.
*********************************************************

Note the similarities...My theory is that in both cancer and Alzheimer's, the error occurs at a point mutation in a regulatory operon. The exact function of the operon affected is different, which is why you see different diseases, but the basis for BOTH problems is mutated operon DNA.

There IS some exciting cross-over being done with cancer drugs used to treat Alzheimer's...and guess what?! There are promising results! To me, that strengthens my argument that they are the same problem, just in different areas.

I have not found anyone who has labeled Alzheimer's as a form of cancer, but I think it should be. Unfortunately, I am just a housewife with a lot of time and (out-of-date) education. I don't really know where I should take this idea. *chuckles* I shared it with my therapist, and she said "if you came up w/ this w/o a google search, i think your analytical skills are superior. no wonder why you need to dumb down your resume."

grrrr. Somehow, that isn't helpful.

Eye of the storm

Thank all the lords and ladies above, today was mostly quiet.

BaconFest went well. It was a smaller crowd than we've had the last couple of years, and all but two dishes were savory rather than sweet. My experiment with Bacon Jam tied Beloved's Bacon and Kale Adobo for third place. Once again, my ice cream wasn't ready. *sigh* I simply HAVE to get started on this stuff sooner! Nighthawk decided I was too stressed and worked out some knots, which was wonderful...no drool, so not over the top, but I was grateful for the work. He and I have contemplated a playdate to see how far he can push my masochistic massage fetish. Over all, though, it was a delightful afternoon.

As soon as the guests left and Beloved disappeared to play games, I wandered off to take a hot bath. The respite allowed me to come back and even play some Dominion later in the evening. Feed the introvert and be rewarded. hmmmm....

Sunday morning, Beloved pushed us all through chores. While I wasn't excited about it, I am extremely grateful. The whole second floor got scrubbed, the kitchen was tackled (and after BaconFest, that's a huge mess!), and I ran lots of laundry. For the afternoon, Beloved took the kids out so I could work on the scrapbook. *smiles* He went to the mall with his facepaints and did kids' faces for four hours for free. "Just another parent who appreciated the challenge and wants to spread some joy" was what he told people. He was brimming and overflowing Sunday evening.

Monday was hectic. I tried to work on the scrapbook, but Girl was insistent on participating. I shared what I could, but it's a paying JOB! We got frustrated with each other, my anxiety over not finished skyrocketed. The afternoon was shot...missed swim lessons because we were running late, ended up going out for dinner because I didn't make anything (and to bribe the kids into forgiving me for the missed swim). Blech!

I took it out in my workout, though. I burned 900 calories and walked out feeling much better...enough to tackle the last pages and FINISH scrapbook! I am very happy with the final results. I may not be a professional scraper, but the pages were all fun, unique, and not just photos stuck on a page. I am, however, very glad to have the project done and off my plate. I turned it over this morning.

Girl and I both took naps, which helped, and despite the fail on picking up Boy (why do sibs HAVE to pick at each other ALL THE TIME?), I wasn't frazzled making dinner. Baked Eggplant Parmesan that came in at 97 calories/slice. Awesome!

I need to clean up the kitchen and take out the trash, but I am happy about the day.

It's the eye of the storm, though. Tomorrow, everything returns to reckless calendar chaos. Every. Single. Day. Though Sunday is at least double-booked. *face plant* When will I learn???

One of THOSE days

Good grief!

Okay, maybe it's more accurate to say "one of those weeks"...

I've been feeling tired, moody, grouchy lately. On Wednesday, that all came to a head, and I found myself falling asleep behind the wheel driving Boy home from school. It's like a 6 mile drive, so yeah, I was tired. Fortunately, Beloved was home early because of his own doctor's appointment. I walked in at 3:30 and was tucked into bed by 4pm. I didn't wake up until 9:30 the next morning. Seriously, I slept for 18 hours.

I felt great when I woke up, I guess I just needed some major catch-up! Got through the day, made dinner, got everyone to the gym to eat and then split up again...Beloved dropped the kids in childcare so he could do yoga while I burned up the treadmill and did my nutrition class. The second half of my workout didn't go so well...I got a stitch in my side that became a screaming-hot-poker-OUCH when I tried to do a leg-lift set. An ovarian cyst rupture, and boy-howdy! I did a little stretching out, but it was minor torture to get out of the building. I got home and just sat on the couch next to Beloved, not moving, for an hour. I was done in at 10pm (despite the crazy sleep from ealier!) and went to bed with some Ibprofen.

By midnight, I was up again, tired and aching. I ended up on the couch, snuggling with my cats. Beloved came to check on me at some point, but I didn't wake up enough to go back to bed.

This morning started out alright...I was a little groggy and my usual slow wake-up self, but managed. Girl and I spent most of the day running errands. We went to the pet store and looked at ALL the various critters and picked out some presents for the kitties. We went to Target to grab lunch, and then ended up in the bargain section where she lined up all the plastic dinosaurs - TRexes against brachiosaurus - and earned a lot of smiles and chuckles. We went grocery shopping. We picked up a snack and picked up Boy and got home.

And I'm wiped out! oiy!

Most of the groceries are put away, but Girl managed to dump one of the craft bins in the Great Room. Boy has TWO BAGS of school work in the kitchen, but he did clean up the HexBugs in his room (I think). I called in the cavalry...Beloved is picking up tacos for dinner, ShadoKnight and Einhander are come over to yank the house into order...

TOMORROW IS BACONFEST!

I have my recipes...but...shhhhhhh! They are yet untried! GAH! Definitely one of those...

Pain

How can people be so heartless
How can people be so cruel
Easy to be hard
Easy to be cold

How can people have no feelings
How can they ignore their friends
Easy to be proud
Easy to say no

A friend is hurting, surprised by a betrayal that sadly comes as no surprise to me or Beloved. There is very little I can offer, but what I can, I have...

Role reversal

Something you have to forgive someone for.
We are all guilty of petty insults. Some of these get blown up and out of proportion by a grudge factor, and what should have been a minor scuffle becomes a rift in time and space.

In her "Innocence Maintained," Jewel write, to be forgiven, we must first believe in sin. Can I forgive someone for something they don't believe is wrong? Or something that really wasn't their fault? Or something that I had a significant role in? Harder still, can I truly forgive the trespasses against me? Can I forgive, and mean it in the core of myself?

*sigh* There is a decision that Beloved and I made years ago that has become a chaffing bitter agony, and I want to forgive it. I want to make it better, but I don't know how. In March, 2006 he was offered a position in an entrepreneur. It was headed by the guy who brought bar code scanners into grocery stores, and held challenge and promise. We were hopeful...convinced?...that if it did what was expected, it would set us up for life. It came with an immediate salary over mine. I told him to go for it.

That decision reversed our roles for life.

Instead of following a career in politics and policy, I became a suburban stay-at-home mom. Over the years, I have fallen further and further from involvement or even interest in the comings and goings. I have lost nearly all my contacts and my most recent references would probably have to pause and think...who? Oh...yeah...um...sure, she did a good job...

Years of schooling, multiple degrees and certifications, published reports and authored bills...all gathering dust or buried under the laundry. It hurts...it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. My ideals shattered, my goals surrendered to foster my children's dreams. My confidence and cockiness melted down to nothing.

In my darkest moments, I hate Beloved for it.

He has risen like the sun in the company, achieving C-level titles, excellent references, awesome exposures. He has negotiated with Fortune 500 companies and collected praise for his innovative approaches in everything...from software prototypes to managing unmanageable people. He has never shirked from home duties. He is a fantastic father, a loving husband, a devoted man. He is the one you want when you are in a pickle barrel.

In my darkest moments, I hate him for that, too.

It isn't his fault. I had equal say in the decision to leave my career. I insisted on the values of a stay-at-home parent. I investigated homeschooling and park district classes and opportunities and exposure for the kids. They are strong-willed, smart, creative, and empathetic individuals. They are the future, and they are my magnum opus.

When we started on this journey of parenting, we did so with open eyes and reasonable planning. Nonetheless, there is no way of knowing how absolutely life-changing children are. Beloved and I both have struggled with the challenges, regretted and resented the responsibilities we accepted. It is a partnership, though. Always, it is a partnership.

In my darkest moments, I forget that. I need to forgive Beloved for something he never did. I need to forgive him for my reminiscing, my present frustrations, and my uncertain future. I need to forgive him for myself.

Forgiveness

Something you have to forgive yourself for

Imperfection might be a cop-out, but it is the background for so many ills in my life. If I were more accepting that I am not perfect, that I cannot BE perfect, perhaps maybe... what?

Sins of my imperfection have cost me friendships, lovers, opportunities, peace of mind. I dwell on what parting words have been said and I ache; so much is owed. If I claimed responsibility for being wrong, would it make things right? I don't know. If I shared the responsibility, would the other side acknowledge their errors too? I'm afraid of being at fault, of failing. When I am wrong...when I am right...the cost is so high.

What does this imagined perfection look like?
It has changed. The things I would bargain for range from miracles to passing scores on math quizzes to obsessing over home-baked goods and a sparkling home. Mostly, perfection is in the appreciated smile, the pat on the head, the "well done!" or "good girl!" Is it so much to ask for? How much do I need to do to garner that perfection?

What would it be like to not carry the burden of this imagined perfection?
*sigh* Ironically, it would probably be better than it is now. I get so overwhelmed and wrapped up in the imagined image that I cannot achieve anything close in reality, so why even try? How many times have I rolled up my sleeves, walking into a room, only to have my shoulders slump and turn around and admit defeat without lifting a finger.

So...yes...if I could forgive myself one thing, it would be that I am imperfect.

It's Beloved's BIRTHDAY!

Thirty-eight years ago, Beloved was born.

He was the answer to a prayer of a couple longing for a child and a congregation who gathered around them in a small church in Iowa. He is named "gift from God," and he is indeed a miracle in the life of all he touches.

For half of my life, he has been my north star, my guiding light. He has steadied me and carried me, berated me and cheered me. I have screamed and pleaded that I am not worthy, and he shakes his head, hugs me close, gives me tissue to blow my nose, and tucks me into bed.

I am so sorry that we have fought as much as we have this last year. I'm so sorry that the transitions in our lives have come on choppy waves. I hope that in the coming year, we find the treasures washed up by the turbulence. God knows, we could use it!

I think it is fitting that today's prompt is something that will make Beloved smile.

Something you love about yourself.
I love my thirst for knowledge. I love learning, whether it is delving into medical journals or watching our kids discover some new thing that we adults take for granted. I love scouring the news or stumbling across a good recipe. I love sharing the tidbits and discussing theologies.

I love that I am still learning, every day, how much I am loved by those who choose to hold me dear in their lives. Someday, I hope that I will accept this without doubt as the truth that it is.

Prompting

The usual report...it's been really rough around the edges lately. *sigh* Another round of manic energy. Another blow-up with Beloved that had us both in tears. Another desperate review of life that ended with no answers. I wish I could just hibernate until spring.

Since I can't and I need something besides blahs to focus on, I'm pulling up the old prompting again.

I've done this one before, but the truth bears repeating because it changes.

Something I Hate About Myself
Right now, the something that is most hurtful, most detrimental to progress is my reliance on others for a sense of value. It isn't that I lack for people who cheer me on, but that I hear the negative comments more loudly than the positive ones. Worse, I hold on to those negative comments, clinging to them as proof that I am worthless. Even comments made in jest and misinterpreted by ME can scar my spirit and fester in my soul.

I don't know how to stop this...how to let go of the echoes...how to forgive myself and make peace with my imperfection. I can't be everything to everyone.

This might be my child-self still trying to negotiate for my mom to get better: "if I am good enough, then she'll get better." Maybe, despite everything that had happened, part of me is still hoping for that promise. I don't know how to reconcile that. What do you say to an 8-year old kid who is desperate for a miracle? What do you say to a 36-year old woman who cries because she doesn't believe in the Tooth Fairy any more?

I want to believe. I want to have faith that it WILL get better. If only I knew what I had to do...if only I made everyone happy...if only I was enough...

I should...

It would be nice to wake up feeling something other than a dragging sense of obligation that I *should* do {fill in the blank}.

laundry
cleaning
scrapbook
workout
dinner
kids
pick-up
make plans
catch up

Perhaps the hardest part of the depression and dysthymia is the "I should." It seems like everything is an "I should" and nothing is an "I want to"... The things that "I want" seem nothing more than avoidism that don't really do anything to improve my disposition. Blech.

Thin...

I am trying NOT to get overwhelmed or freak out...but I am feeling pretty dang thin at the moment. Proof is in the blogging; I'm writing instead of doing anything "useful". *sigh*

Okay...so last Thursday, I picked up the kids and we went to a waterpark resort. Arrived, ate, Beloved took them swimming while I got beds made, stuff put away, and jammies out before joining them. The waterpark was fun...and they had a wave pool! *wriggles* Swimming is fine, but I miss the beach and rougher waters! This was a treat for me! We swam until 9:30pm (two hours past the kids' normal bedtime!), got them to bed, and Beloved and I played a couple of rounds of Race for the Galaxy before going to sleep ourselves.

Too bad the dark-out curtains weren't enough to keep Boy asleep past 7am. *sigh* The kids played some Forbidden Island before we were up. After breakfast, we went back to the room and packed everything up and hauled out to the car before going back to the pool for a few more hours (check out was 11am, but our waterpark passes were good until 10pm...how's THAT for annoying?)

We left to find some lunch, wandered the small down a bit, and then descended on LeatherAnhk's family. The kids played and watched a movie while we played bridge and enjoyed dinner. We finally called it quits and got home around 10:30pm.

Saturday morning we were up and out of the house by 9:30am, heading to ChiTaG. We met up with Futhark and his kids as well as Rude13. It was fun...and crowded and a little overwhelming. We did pick up some new games (if you have young kids, check out Peaceable Kingdom...they have a great deal for teachers, especially!). By 3pm, though, I was pretty much done in. Beloved drove home, and Girl and I completely passed out.

Beloved went out with Sunshine that night, leaving me to my book. I ended up staying up very late reading and trying to figure out Puerto Rico online...

...which made me overly grumpy and tired when Boy woke up at 6am Sunday morning, bouncing out of bed and demanding to know what we were going to do TODAY...

oiy.

Beloved saved me. He took the kids to the gym, out to lunch, to a high school play, and THEN let me finish my bath after they got home. I really needed the quiet time! I did some laundry and finished unpacking stuff, finished my book...

*sigh*

Today is more of the same...cleaning, picking up, catching up with mail and bills, keeping up with Girl. I need to run upstairs and collect swimwear for the kids, get dinner started, and go pick up Boy...drop home for 30 minutes to finish dinner, pack it up, and get to the gym for their swim lessons...then we're meeting Beloved there, eating dinner in the cafe, and he's going to yoga while I got to TEAM...

The next couple of days...
Tuesday - meeting with the scrapbook commission job, counseling, pick up Girl at 11, pick up Boy at 4, dinner, grocery shop???

Wednesday - prep food for The Feast, pick up Girl at 11, get dinner started, pick up Boy at 3, dinner at the cafe with Beloved, TEAM.

Thursday - FEAST at my Mimi and Zaddie's house (for the last time, waaaahhhhhh!)

Friday - Hare and Hounds Game & Potluck Lunch

I don't know if there are plans for the weekend...I'd expect a village breakfast, but other than that? I don't know! Am I crazy, or does this pace just seem a little much? Beloved is so energized and excited...but...like I said...I'm feeling thin.

The BDSM Quiz

Futhark was revisiting the BDSM Quiz. It was kind of interesting to see how different his results were. Curious, I retested myself...

Three years ago:
Experimental 96%
Submissive 82%
Switch 68%
Bondage 64%
Exhibitionist / Voyeur 61%
Degradation Lover 50%
Vanilla 43%
Masochist 43%
Dominant 32%
Sadist 29%

Today:
Experimental 96%
Switch 86%
Submissive 85%
Masochist 75%
Bondage 55%
Exhibitionist / Voyeur 50%
Degradation 46%
Vanilla 29%
Dominant 25%
Sadist 21%


Although my masochistic tendencies are a little stronger, I'm still more vanilla than dominant or sadistic. I guess I haven't changed much, eh?

Deep Water

You find yourself falling down
Your hopes in the sky
But you heart like grape gum on the ground
And you try to find yourself
In the abstractions of religion
And the cruelty of everyone else
And you wake up to realize
Your standard of living somehow got stuck on survive
Jewel sings that song, and I am feeling it right now, right down to the bones. Once upon a time...a long time ago...but somehow I got stuck in survival mode. It is simply a matter of cleaning up the chaos, gritting my teeth through the next argument with the kids. What else is there suppose to be? I've forgotten...

You realize your only friends
Has never been yourself or
anybody who cared in the end
That's when everything fades or falls away
'Cause the chains which once held us
are only the chains which we've made
For weeks, I have been arguing on and off with Beloved. It is the trick coin, with one side painted white and the other painted black. We are each looking at the same coin, but what we see is different and irreconcilable. I have not been a friend to myself for a very long time, and I push away those who care. No one can care about me! No one! Not even me! Because if anyone cared...if anyone really cared... I have truly forged my own prison.

We've compromised our pride
And sacrificed out health
We must demand more
Not of each other
But more from ourselves
By consistently giving up on my own desires, wants, even my own needs, I have locked myself into a hopeless, dreamless place. I joke about it, but I have gone days without a shower, refusing to give myself even that little kindness. I beg and cry and scream that it is because there isn't enough time, enough hot water, enough...something. Excuses, accusations, procrastinations. No matter how much Beloved steps in, plays the short-stop... No matter how much I demand, it is never going to be enough, because I am not making the demands of the right person.

I realize this, and I do not know how to change it. I am so frightened by who I am in this moment. A quiet little voice of logic insists it is the bipolar-depression talking. This will pass...it always does...I don't mean that...gods, please...just make it all go away!

There are a number of small communication issues that Beloved and I have stumbled over. His extrovert talk verses my introvert talk. The bipolar talk. Confusing possibilities with absolutes.

One of the things "they" say about talking to a bipolar person: 'individuals with bipolar disorder can experience stress when they have difficulty understanding what is being said to them or what is expected of them.' Is it any wonder that I desperately want someone to just tell me where to go, how to fix it, what to dream?

The trouble is that someone is ME!

I have to do it, fix it, dream it! ME, and no one else. It terrifies me.

House-keeping and triggers

Katie Byron has four questions to ask of any thoughts that cause you suffering. This comes to mind after a hard counseling session.

I laid out my frustrations from the last blog post...that so much had been done and gone well, but I was on a downswing and slipping into negativity. My therapist loved the Swahili example and agreed that the lessons I SEE are indeed the ones I need to work on. The thing that I found interesting was that she did know at least one place that it all stemmed from.

I took on so much responsibility in my childhood. Part of my adaptation was a pick-and-choose because at 8, 9, 14 I couldn't do it all. It was part of accepting my own limitations. It wasn't that there were white-glove tests or strict expectations, but I recalled a bitter fight I had with my mother when I was 12 or 13 years old

She had just come home from the hospital. The house wasn't up to par, but I don't remember what the exact issue was. All I remember was feeling indignant that I was being judged for the state of the house. I screamed at her, "Maybe you should just go back to the hospital where it stinks of clean!"

Sharing this with my therapist, tears started rolling down my cheeks.

Triggers of not being good enough, of my 13-year-old housekeeping skills being judged, of the irrational tie-together of my not being good enough at housekeeping being involved in letting my mother down...in letting her die...

Years later, at the age of 18 when I gave up and moved into Beloved's bedroom, the relative order of my family's house fell apart. There were roaches, moldy food, and neglect. I remember visiting and being filled with despair. I knew then and I know now that I couldn't fix it and I couldn't own it. They had to figure it out, and if they had to do it the hard way...*sigh*

Beloved reached that point a couple of times with my own depression. It was...is so extremely essential that he know he cannot rescue me from it. I have to do it myself, and sometimes...a lot of times...I choose the hard way.

The triggers are complicated, though. My child-self embraces all of the fun; the parties, the cooking, the playing hard. My adult-self shoulders the responsibilities of keeping up with chores, bills, obligations. When the child-self is thwarted by the adult-self, there is a rebellion. I have been doing the housekeeping, childrearing, and adult life since I was 8, 9, 14 years old! No wonder I hit burnout so often.

The problem still comes back to managing expectations, though. My struggle is finding a balance in the chaos. I know all of this is in my head and in my heart. No one else is pointing out the crayon on the wall or the basket of crap that needs to find a home...*I* am the one with that forefront in my mind. So how do I see it, acknowledge it, and not get frozen by it?

I'm not sure. From where I am sitting right now, I can see a number of things that need attention:

clothes on the floor have been folded, but need to go upstairs and be put away
Girl left her lunch box on the coffee table and that needs to be cleaned up
the plants need water
the chairs need to be recovered now that the covers have been washed
my library books should go upstairs
minor MINOR pick-up of a few toys scattered around (seriously, 6 things!)
table cloth on the pool table needs to be washed
basket of non-perishables needs to go to the food bank
basket of miscellaneous trash from the attic goes out
electrical cords need to be returned to the garage

LOOK AT THAT LIST! I can knock it all out in an hour. But so much of it has just sat for days, nagging me and accusing me of laziness, of failure. It collects, grows, multiplies until I am crippled by it. And just as I think, "Okay, I can do this!", I get interrupted by something or someone. My attention wanders, and the task goes undone...

Round and round and round...

Is it true? I think there is a key here. It is true that there are regular chores that come with living in a household with other people. It is true that being the home adult, my job is to oversee most of it...but to OVERSEE it, not DO it.

Can I know it is absolutely true? I have talked with Beloved about expectations, and yes, I do need to pull my weight and help guide the kids in their own contributions. No, I do not need to do it ALL all by myself.

How do you react, what happens, when you believe that thought? I get overwhelmed, angry, resentful by the never-ending job list when I try to handle it on my own. I rebel by leaving it undone, hiding, and allowing distractions to rule my life.

Who would you be without the thought? This is where my therapist left me...or our time ran out. Who am I if I can accept the limitations? If I don't own it ALL, but I make the contributions to the team, is that enough?

I am going to try to recognize the things that nag me and freeze me. I'm also going to try to document the activities and distractions. Maybe there is a pattern to what triggers me.

Damn you service, and damn me too.

Hoggle, What Have You Done?Sarah: [after eating the peach] Hoggle, what've you done?
Hoggle: [leaves in fear] Oh, damn you, Jareth. And damn me, too.
I was once called a quintessential service submissive. My heart burns with the desire to serve. Once I fulfilled this through advocacy for students, for the environment, for uninsured folks. I put long hours toward improving the status quo and I had confidence that I made a difference in the world.

I became a mother, and my service became inextricably to the house and to the children. I have often received praise for the warmth and welcome of our home. People compliment the gardens, the festive decor, the comfortable lived-in space. The children are successful in school and congenial with company. They are smart, curious, empathetic, and well on their way towards self-sufficient. I have done my job well.

Why then has my own confidence faded? Why, when I am asked what I like, do I falter? Why do I turn praise aside, citing crayon marks behind the couch or a cluttered desk in the bedroom as proof of my failure? Why do I deride my abilities to make a difference?

Even more troubling, why do I allow inertia to reign? So much of my service in the last couple of years has been feast-or-famine. I plunge my whole being into cleaning, planting, changing, hosting, and utterly exhaust myself. I crash and trash what I hold most dear, depriving myself of pride and confidence in what I achieved. Things slip out of control, pile up, and become depressive.

I spent the last two weeks in high service. Three parties were hosted, the holiday decor was changed twice, the attic partially organized. I scheduled more events, made plans, bought tickets. I went out with Beloved, went out with the kids, went out with friends. It was an amazing two weeks of success after success.

And yet, now I am on the downswing. I am crippled by the overturned garbage, the desperately dry plants, the pile of laundry (both clean and dirty). Beloved wants to know if I want to go to out in three days, and I want to cringe.

I *want* to meet the challenges, but I am so tired. No matter how much I do, I don't feel like I have done "good enough" because there is always more that I could, should do.

So many years ago, Sir told me just how easy it was to break me. The order to "keep count on each cheek while singing the National Anthem in Swahili" is simply impossible; I don't know Swahili. I could learn it, though.

Damn it! The point isn't to learn the language! The point is to accept my own limitations! I am not perfect! No one expects me to be perfect! Except for me. I expect me to be perfect.

I look around myself and am confronted with all the coulds and shoulds and I ask myself why I am writing instead of serving. Right now, I want to cry.

Growls and snarls

I'm very glad Beloved took the kids away today...I'm grouchy. *sigh* Just little unpleasant tasks that seem to be piling up. An animal got into the trash can. Girl peed the bed. I found a cashe of moldy apple cores hidden by Boy. ugh.

Just not the way I'd hoped to start, ya know?

A breath

There are two pots of soup sitting on the stove, four loaves of whole wheat bread and a basket of yeast-rolls sitting on the counter, twelve quarts of pumpkin soup and chili await on the breakfast bar, and a veggie tray is in the fridge. Food is ready for the soup swap! A little bit of pick-up, a few light bulbs to change, and I desperately need a shower... two hours before people arrive. I think this is going to be a great evening!

Daylight savings ends tomorrow. I don't know if this is a good thing or not. Sure, it will mean the sun will be rising when we are, but I dread the dark afternoons. Weather aside, the dark heralds the arrival of winter.

I am still wishing that the two hours Girl was at school stretched more, but compared to the last two weeks, the coming week promises to be a little slower. I have a number of little projects that I am looking forward to working on. Some painting, a book I'd like from the library, posting some items on CL for sale. Naturally, there's more yardwork that needs attention.

At the moment, I am tired but very content. I wish I could stay here...

Christian Rock

I don't consider myself religious or even particularly Christian. I was raised Roman Catholic, but too many scolding by nuns and priests tarnished my faith in the Church. I have struck my own beliefs and agreements with God-The Universe-Someone Upstairs, and we are good with that.

Every once in a while, though, I get the urge to turn on the Christian Rock station. Part of me just likes the songs because I can actually HEAR the lyrics...they have a message and they are very careful to make sure it isn't dimmed by the music. Part of me just likes the message. Not the "Oh God, I love You so" stuff as much as the ones that speak of grace and submission and strength.

Tonight, two songs caught my ear, each for different reasons.




Earlier in the day, he messaged me in response to a comment I'd left on Fet.

I wish I wish I wish
I don't understand depression. I wish I knew how to help. Help you, help our friends, etc
It's really hard...
anyhow, I love you

Through the years that we have been together, he as stayed...and fought!...to stay with me. The dark depressions, the daily battles with dysthymia, the insane highs and the spectacular crashes...he has stayed through it all. There isn't a day that I am not grateful! Even in the worst moments, I trust him.

I liked this song, but at the same time, I am frustrated by it. It isn't Beloved's job to LEAD me. We tried the D/s, and it just wasn't a good fit. I consider my feelings about God and it is very similar. I am not one to be LED.

I do, however, need support, encouragement, and occasionally a brace. Like a pole in a tipi, we lean against each other and are strong. Together, we can weather the storms and find shelter.

There are plenty of days that I do lean heavily on him, though. I played this for Beloved, and we both had tears in our eyes. I know that I have responsibility for my own life, my own happiness...and yet...I need him. I have faith because he has taught me to believe. Always and forever.


The second song I found looking for the first one.



"Those damaged goods you see in your reflection, Love sees them differently; Love sees perfection...You're not the worthless they made you feel...And you don't have to stay the broken girl."

I know this...have known it for years and years. A few years ago I wrote a story titled The Journey Down. It's a brutal whipping scene that ends with

I know this exchange will not end here, that the strips on my back will last for the next week, the scars for longer. It is the map of my journey, of my acceptance, of my release. I am free at last.

*sigh* How many tears does it take? Am I choosing to stay broken? Am I broken for reasons other than...deeper than? It's very confusing to me, just want do I need to forgive, and whom.

Just keep at it...every step, every day. Breathe and trust. Have faith.

Never stop running...

It's been a crazy busy week-and-a-half...and I'm still not done!

• Boy's birthday was October 25th. My dad and his wife came out for dinner, and then we had the village join us for cupcakes and a round of "Happy Birthday". Sunshine and her mom and HBY-n-SSQ all brought really neat, thoughtful gifts. The Boy has been enamoured with the Hex Bugs and Beloved has been puzzling over the Perplexus. It was a really nice evening.
• Friday night was spent at school for the Fall Follies. Girl was too shy to go up on stage, but Boy did a great job with his songs. There was a wonderful potluck spread and then a candle-lit walk through the woods to see the scarecrows that the students had put together. It was actually really well done!
• Saturday was the kids' birthday party, and Beloved was AWESOME! He really pulled the whole thing together, even including an actual plot of having the kids defeat Bizarro after he led them into a trap. Beloved also took photos of the kids when they arrived and presented them with Official ID cards, having completed "Avengers Academy." I am awed by his abilities!
• Sunday saw us hanging out with Beloved's oldest friend at a family Halloween party. We claimed the card table in the basement after the football game was over and played Bridge for a couple of hours! It was fantastic! We stayed until the very end, cheerfully denying Ma the bulk of clean-up.
• Monday night I went out on a date with Phoenix. Dinner, dessert, and walk, but it was a lot of fun and lots of laughter. Schedules being what they are, I don't know when we will get a chance to meet up again, though.
• Wednesday was Halloween, of course. At 3 o'clock, Beloved and I didn't have costumes planned, but we have a great costume box! By 4 o'clock, we had a Gauntlet foursome heading out for trick-or-treating. We met up with Sunshine and wandered the neighborhood. At 6 o'clock, we headed to the local university for a Howl-o-ween concert, organized by DarkOpera. It was a fantastic show that actually held the kids' attention for the whole presentation. After dinner and getting the kids to bed, Sunshine, DarkOpera, Beloved and I sat at the dining room table, drank a bottle of Hallowine, and bantered until midnight.
• Today I had tea with Tamin and I have spent the afternoon taking down Halloween decor. I have a smaller collection of Thanksgiving and harvest decorations to put up, and I am hoping the kids will help with the window clings.
• Soup Swap is on Saturday. While my roasted pumpkin soup is made, it still needs to be jarred, and Beloved has plans for making chili...at some point between now and the event. I think we have 15+ people coming, and I'm excited about the enthusiasm for the idea. We're also collecting canned goods for the local food drive.

So...yeah. Run, run, run. It is a good thing, but oh golly am I wondering if there is any downtime in the future...

Dark things

I am reading Kushiel's Dart by Jacqueline Carey. The main character is Phèdre no Delaunay, trained from a girl to be a spy and sexual servant. She also is an anguissette who will always find "pleasure in pain". The book has some incredibly intense scenes that leave me wistful and aching for the lash.

Beloved and I have avoided such scenes, though. The trouble is the physical pain scenes I have participated in don't lead me to a subspace catharsis. I can only think of two times that have I been able to transcend the pain and anger. Once was under duress, when I thought that I was beyond redemption and I welcomed the punishment.

I used to poke Sir about his fascinations, because he was the darkest person I knew. I begged him to tell me, to show me how far it went, and he never did. Mostly, I think I am grateful, because he is probably right about my squeamish limit. The hints he would drop would make my blood run cold and question what I doing looking at anything lifestyle. The last scene between us was in the basement and involve much more psychological mind-fuckery than anything actual pain...he drew me into a place that I had misjudged and willingly given myself to the worst possible, that he could finally pay me back for the betrayal years before...

There was just enough that his words alone drew me into shock. What was he capable of? What could I have taken in that place of hate and loathing? I broke in minutes, before anything HAPPENED. I have berated myself for the failing ever since.It was also the proof that while Sir might indeed cause pain, I didn't need to FEAR him anymore. A relief and disappointment that is unlikely to ever be tried again.

If that is what it takes to embrace...to flourish...in that space, I don't know if it is a healthy place for me. And yet...

Steel-Rose wrote The eyes of a Sadist "...my mind has gone dark with the thrill of it." Oh yes, I know how that feeling! I read the stories, the scenes, the intensity and I am filled with longing and fear.

What IS it that I crave?

No cohesive threads...

So I'm settling for some bullet points.

• My disappointment with my two favorite plants from the Arboretum was met by two different guys with the same solution: automation! Install automatic driplines and I wouldn't have to worry about the drought-hardiness of my interests. *laughs* While I appreciate the support and the "fix" for the "problem", I do not want to go that route. It defeats the naturalization and native goals. Let me sniff and scowl and move on to other fascinating options that will survive.
• I have a friend who I am aching for right now. Part of it is seeing some of my own frustrations, irritations, and challenges in her. Part of it is feeling like I orchestrated her move here and over the last six months, everything has unraveled and she is not happy. Part of it is feeling like I should have my shit together better so I could help more. *sigh* Yup...I want to rescue, and I can't and I'm sad for it.
• It is incredibly frustrating to try to capture an impromptu moment in words. Last night, Beloved and I went to a comedy club and I managed to play into a joke so perfectly that the comedian on stage cracked up! It was AWESOME!
• Beloved and I finally discovered a root for one of our major communication problems! It is based in our language patterns and our respective extrovert/introvert natures. I don't think it's an "easy" fix, but certainly being aware of what is happening is a positive first step.
• For the last two weeks, I have had a continuous acne outbreak. It's not OMG, but a couple of new pimples every other day or so... I don't know if it's stress or what. I don't think it's a change in diet or any other useful suspect.
• I am certainly stressed out about Boy's upcoming birthday! I had a great idea of making it a "Super Hero Training Party", but now I'm stuck with how that translates into a 6-year-old's fantasy. I have one week to make it happen. *forehead desk* WHY do I do this to myself???

I won't give up

Sometimes the roar in my head can drown out the rest of the world. I crave silence with fierce abandon, and anyone who dares to disrupt risks being drawn into the emotional malstrom. I lash out, cut ties, and tear myself up.

There has been a lot of that in the last six months. It has been incredibly painful and agonizingly slow. Transitions often seem that way.

Just as the world was coming to an end,
the caterpillar became the butterfly.

More times than I can count, Beloved has waded through the brutal waves and reached me. He stubbornly refuses to let me drift away. He is sometimes able to give me an outside perspective and help me piece together what is REALLY going on.

Today, this song came on the radio. It was mid-way through the song, and the first lyrics I caught were "I won't give up on us." Tears were streaming down my face and I picked up my phone.

"Help please!"
"Hello my love! How can I help?"
"As usual, I don't know the name of the song, but the lyrics are "I won't give up on us." Can you please find it for me? I can hear you singing this to me..."

He found it and send the link along to me. I haven't gotten his reaction to the song at all, but listening to it again fills me with love and longing, courage and consternation.

I am so scared to let myself go, and yet I am so hopeful that I can find a way to calm the storms for good. This re-making of me is a good thing. I am so lucky to have so many friends who continue to brave the moments of insanity and always remind me I am loved. I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up) God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved) We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved) God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it)

Flora fantasies

Our fieldtrip got rained on, just as we were eating lunch.  It was maybe 20 minutes of a pretty hard rain...enough to soak everyone before we reached the bus.  Even though it passed, the temperature dropped as the storm pushed through, and it was decided that wet kids weren't going to manage well. 

Of course, I was at the arboretum long enough to find two plants that I just loved!

The beautyberry (Callicarpa dichotoma) is the purple one in front, the Arkansas blue star (Amsonia hubrictii) is the yellow stuff in the background.  Both were spectacular for fall foliage!  Unfortunately, neither is a drought-tolerant as I need them to be.  pooh.  I guess I'll put them in my *someday* file...

Sleep

My relationship with sleep is irksome at best.  It always has been.  As a little kid (3-7), I was a sleep-walker and freaked my mother out more than once.  As an older kid (8-14), I would wake up and be up for hours.  Living on the first floor, I figured out how to remove the screen from my window and slip out into the night.  Apparently my parents had big fights about this, but never let on that they knew about it. 

I wasn't the "normal" teenager through high school; I was up around 4am, got things ready for the kids going to school, got myself to school, did homework until it was time for Early Bird PE (it was awesome...fencing, archery, and ultimate frisbee instead of the usual crap that I was no good at).  The flip side of that I napped through lunch and usually went to bed as soon as dinner was cleaned up.

College was a mishmosh of these patterns.  I caught naps when I could, sometimes falling asleep so soundly in Beloved's room while the guys played video games that I didn't budge when someone didn't see me and sat on me!  It happened more than once, apparently, and caused everyone to crack up.  Once a month, I'd sleep through a 24-hour cycle, reset, and function for another month of 4-5 hours until I crashed again.

My professional career didn't align my sleep patterns, either.  Fortunately, I was efficient in the work assigned.  I actually got scolded for this and was told to slow down!  HA!  I didn't.  Instead, I figured out that my desk was actually big/deep enough that I could crawl under it, pull the CPU tower in front of me, and snooze.  I'd still take a day to catch up once in a while, though.

My pregnancy with Boy was hard, though.  I'd moved on from that first job and found myself in a manager position with an abundance of work, and no amount of efficiency was going to garner me a break.  Added to that was the HG and malnourishment, and THEN the very active nocturnal child...  *smiles*  I spent many nights in the bathtub, watching the movements inside of me.

Life with small kids meant being chronically deprived of sleep, making me edgy and borderline.  The dysthymia translated that into major depression, and I got through a day at a time, while the world crumbled around me. 

I'd like to say things are better now, but I don't know.   Yesterday is a perfect example.  I went to bed at 8:30pm and slept solidly until 8am.  I got up, did the grocery shop, picked up Girl, got home, got the groceries HALF put-away, and found myself curling up in bed for another 3 hours!  It wasn't a solid sleep because Girl would come in and talk about how we eat and it turns into poop or that she was going to make some tea and did I want some, but still...sheesh!  Last night, again, I fell asleep while Beloved was talking to me (about 10:30pm) and had to drag myself out of bed come morning. 

I feel a little useless for it.  I look at all the things I *should* get done and wonder what is wrong with me.  I don't have the hopeless feelings of depression, I'm just tired.  Beloved has been gentle about this, saying I need to fulfill my needs before I can fulfill his.  *sigh*  I don't want to need such a stupid amount of sleep, though!  I don't usually need THAT much sleep, but 8-10 hours nightly works best...  There's so much I'd rather be doing!

Ah well...it is what it is.  I need to be out the door in 15 minutes to meet the school fieldtrip at the Arboretum.  Right now, it's overcast, but not raining.  Hopefully, the rain will hold off until 2pm and it will be a wonderfully warm autumn day to be outside!

Names

How hard it is to change an identity? Are we forever trapped by the original name?

My previous name was...IS...a part of me and my identity. One that I struggled with and tried to "put away" and finally found acceptance in. But in my head, I was defined by, legitimized, and inexorably tied to another. My mental identity was really of two-as-one, not two individuals.

That relationship is changing...shifting. We are both discovering a need to be independently known and to explore our own desires.

Exploring and bringing home new ideas and experiences to share has always been one of the aspects of our relationship that is a strength. We are poly, and we embrace the idea that one person cannot and should not be expected to fulfill all needs.

Still...I fell prey to green-eyed jealousy and felt replaced. I wish to shed that bitterness. I wish to rename and thus reclaim my individuality. I wish to feel compersion, to love without limits. I wish to be known as J'aime.

Fine lines

Relationships aren't simple, and poly simply compounds all of the possibilities. And if I wasn't already complicated enough, I add in kink and D/s. It has become a source of heartache and confusion.

In the kink realm, I have always presented myself as Beloved's girl pixie. Because I am at home and have more downtime, I have formulated many friendships and connections as pixie, and Beloved is largely unknown. He is an enigma...someone I worship and am dedicated to, and thus held by others with respect and maybe a touch of awe. Beloved himself has explained it as, people know pixie, but when I am present, the reaction is "oooo, it's Saul," like I a some badass Dominant Master.

*smiles* I like that because it gives me a safety net. I am owned and protected and cherished. I am Beloved's.

But something happened. Sunshine entered the space. It started at Tryst, and I had a complete meltdown. I isolated and withdrew completely, unwilling and unable to share. Since then it has grown to the 800 ton gorilla in the room...at least in my own head, it is no longer Beloved and pixie...people recognize Sunshine and Saul because they are seen together in places that I have shown up solo. I feel replaced, and I ache inside.

Beloved and I have a hard talk about this on Monday, and I said some very hurtful things. I'm not sure that I didn't mean them, but I am also unwilling to say I demand action on them. I recognize that I am in a space of transition in many areas of my life. "Pixie" holds some bitterness that I'd like to shed. After eight years, perhaps "Pixie" has served her purpose.

I know that Beloved will always protect me and cherish me, that he will always have my back. I know I am safe and I know he honors my consistent desire to explore darker play. Yet I stumble on the fine line of needing to be safe while feeling unsafe. It twists me up and confuses me. What am I looking for?

*sigh* I don't know. So, for the moment, it is just me, wandering.

Perfect

Today has been pretty dang near perfect.

I set my birdsong alarm, since Beloved wasn't here. I heard the kids moving around, but they didn't come out until after 7am, and both were in good moods. They had some cereal and then played with an empty laundry basket while I made Pumpkin Oatmeal and a Spinach-Basil Quiche for the village breakfast. I grabbed a shower before everyone showed up.

SSQ made bacon and brought over-night batter for waffles that Beloved cooked up. Rude13, ShadoKnight, and Catch22 rounded out the table, along with the assorted children. We feasted and then cleaned up and EVERYONE cleared out.

I spent the next couple of hours in the yard. It's a beautiful fall day, temperatures in the upper 60s, sunny, deep blue sky. I spent time culling the overgrowth, deadheading, and weeding. There was enough to fill two yard bags, just from the front yard, and planted 100 more bulbs...all tulips and alliums. I have about 100 more to go in daffodils, snow-glowies, and more irises. I was excited to find some hidden blooms in the dense growth, so there is still some color out there. The mums are bursting into bloom, too.

Beloved dropped a text saying he, Rude13, and the kids were on the way back. I got chili warmed up and cornbread in the oven. I'm hungry and they are just walking in the door.

The kids will probably wander off to veg in front of the television, so the adults are going to squeeze in a game or two.

So...yeah...pretty dang near perfect.

Just a thought

I got a text today from someone I admire. Nothing of major substance, just saying hello and checking in on me. It was very sweet and made me wriggle my toes and blush to be even a thought.

With turmoil in my blood family and in my poly family, I have been closing myself off from people. I don't want to be dragged through the mud and I really wish life had less curve balls to throw. I want to curve up in mother-arms and be rocked and held and loved and protected, like a little I suppose.

I expect that will become more of an issue as I start working into some of the childhood traumas. Even when I WAS a kid, I didn't have anyone to take comfort from and in fact took complicated steps to protect the adults from my problems. I don't have that sort of comfort anywhere right now; every physical exchange is tinged with sexual undertones which doesn't fulfill the ache inside. *half smile* I like having that effect and I encourage that effect...but...

I miss my mom. *sigh* Twenty-two years gone, and always near my thoughts. In The Good Master by Kate Seredy there is a story about how, as long as a person is remembered or something they created is appreciated, they will live on. This has stuck in my head for a long time and it usually brings a grin to my lips when I'm in the shower and praising the genius of indoor plumbing and hot water. Other mythos hold that each life is a one possibility of billions that God considers. This too is an interesting concept to turn over in my mind.

While I hardly believe anyone really thinks of me in such innocent terms, I like feeling safe and protected. Today, a deity thought of me, and I was wrapped in the glow. Such is the comfort of being "just a thought."

It is autumn...

Indeed it is the season of change. First the news with my sister, then Girl starting school, and now my aunt and uncle have (finally) sold her home and is leaving the state.

There is some trepidation with Mimi and Zaddie leaving. She had been a lynchpin for the blood family, always there in crisis. Zaddie was instrumental in Beloved's home improvements and he custom-made most of the woodwork in my bedroom. I most certainly do not begrudge them the retirement from the drama, but...but...Mimi and Zaddie ware leaving! *wails*

I haven't done diddle squat on my homework assignments for therapy. I suppose tonight is my deadline. *sigh* I don't know why exactly this fills me with dread, but it does. It is perhaps a lack of momentum; I need change, but staying "put" is easy. Still...I don't want to be in this space for the rest of my life. "Just do it" as Nike says, right?

It is autumn, after all.

Complacency

It finally happened! Girl started school!

Part-time, three days a week. Still...there are 3 hours on those three days that I am completely alone. Right now, I am sitting in the window of my bedroom, the sun shining on my back, listening to insect song, and wondering what the hell I do now.

I'm floundering. I guess I kind of expected the first week to be exactly what it has been...relaxing and coming to grips with my lack of direction. I'm starting to come out of the fog, and I don't know which way to go. It's scary.

I have a box of magazines and a poster frame I've intended to use for a vision board. I spent 40 minutes flipping through the glossy pages and cut out exactly 1 thing... a tip for using 3/4 tablet of asprin on my plants to help ward off pests.

My homework assignments from the therapist are to develop a list of 20 things to do as well as 10 date night ideas. I've been putting it off, even avoiding the computer because I can stay off the Internet and not find things to do. HELLO??? What am I doing???

Am I a blank page or am I depressed? Am I overwhelmed or undermotivated? What is it I want? Why is it so hard to answer that question?

I am afraid of failure. I'm afraid to name desires because I know the way to get them is my own hard work and I'm afraid I don't have the determination to achieve them. I don't have enough self-value to even try. Who said, "He who has lost hope has already lost everything"?

The other morning, I was pondering this blog. When I started this journey, it was searching for complaisance and submission to Beloved, Sir, and a few others I have had trials with. I found myself arguing, resenting, and anything BUT complaisant. I thought perhaps it was because my sense of purpose was bigger than one person, that I am servant to a higher calling and seeking to submit to that summons. HA! That sounds rather egotistical right now.

Learning complaisance. Do I need to change the name? Dissolve the blog and start something new? What do I need to learn right now?

I need to learn to be master of myself. To control my thoughts, my actions, my path. To accept the friendship and love that is given freely by Beloved, by my children, by my friends. To love myself.

What word sums all of that up?

I looked up complaisance again, which lead me to complacency; a calm or satisfied feeling about one's self : SELF-SATISFACTION.

So, maybe the title is still accurate after all.

Haunted

If you put it out to the Universe, the Universe will answer, or so I believe. There is also the mythos that you do not speak the name of an evil because doing so will draw its attention.

I have been digging up my past, and there are lots of things that I have no answers for. Perhaps longing for answers opened the door for the flood of the last 48 hours.

My sister is not evil, but from the moment of her birth, she has been an incredible drama. Congenital defects are like that. She wasn't expected to live to 18, and now she is 34. She has been full of rage and anger all her life, and who am I to blame her? She has spent years severing ties with anyone who got too close to her.

The last friendly communication I had with her was in 2004. There have been more recent exchanges, but nothing that left an opening. I thought I had mourned the hurt and betrayal and had moved on.

Friday night, I received a cryptic message from a high school friend that said " I'm very worried about your sister. Now would be a good time to call her." I left a message on her voice mail and turned to the few people I knew who might still have contact with her. I have been piecing a puzzle together from a string of broken relationships, and my heart aches anew.

I have had text contact with my sister, insisting that she is fine (remember what I think of the word fine?). What I have pieced together from others is that she has become addicted to pain medications, has stopped taking her heart medications ("the doctor said I didn't need them anymore, so I threw them in a corner" was how someone reported it), is presumably homeless (no one I have talked to knows where she is actually staying, but someone said she said "there is running water and I can sleep on the floor"), increasingly erratic, and has started to sever the few remaining connections.

The last person I spoke with was a family friend who has known us more than 30 years and was cursed out of my sister's life only a month or two ago. As I explain all of the pieces I'd gathered, she sighed. "That explains a lot...It sounds like you have wrapped your head around the situation pretty well." Yes, I know what is going on.

My sister is preparing to die alone.

There is nothing I can do, except wait and be haunted by wishes that things could be different.

Soup, and other bits of life

The weather is dipping into the 50s at night, and the first sugar pumpkins are showing up at market...It's SOUP SEASON! If you haven't yet, you might consider joining up for my Soup Swap in November!

I've already made pots of ham & split pea soup and roasted pumpkin soup. The leftover mashed potatoes are destined for a creamy rosemary-potato soup. A 79 cent butternut squash is going to join some chicken and other goodies for my favorite chicken soup.

A little more ambition, and I've pulled out the bread machine. Honey wheat is easy enough and I started some sour dough starter.

Beloved teased me..."I think you'd be happy if it could be September all year round." September or April are probably my favorite months...the cool, sweater weather is awesome and I love the produce of the seasons.
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Therapy is giving my a headache...I have mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, the "promise" to unravel the crazy mood swings appeals and I'd try a lot of things to be free to be ME instead of a raving train-wreak-waiting-to-happen. On the other hand, I have serious doubts about "getting in touch" with my emotional 8-year-old self. Maybe I've been watching too much Fringe, but it seems weird to me. This week, Beloved came along to hear about "potential side effects." It's going to get worst before it gets better and all that dire stuff.

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Girl is *almost* ready for school. The potty training has been successful for a couple of weeks, and we're even trying diaper-less for bedtime! She had a pretty good interview day, but immediately developed a cold with the gross green snots and nasty cough. I've kept her home this week, but next week...maybe.

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I have plans...work...to do in the garden. Time to spread some grass seed and fertilizer. I have a couple of clearance perennial plants, some root balls, and bulbs to put in. I want to see what needs to be done to prep my straw bales for the spring...I want to move the tomatoes and peppers to the straw and try putting beans and peas in the boxes.

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Fourteen bags/boxes of donations were picked up, and just this week I found more out-grown clothes! I'm hoping I can get enough together for another massive pick-up in the first week that Girl is at school.

I am afraid of you

I have wandered in and out of lifestyles of D/s and BDSM play for more than five years now. There's a million more things I *haven't* done, but I have sampled the lifestyle offerings. I have been strung up, gagged, beaten, whipped, caned, cuffed, collared, plugged, waxed, and mind-fucked. I have made friends and even taken lovers among the many Dominants, Tops, and sadists I have met.

I cannot deny that I am a curious creature and that the dark things attract my attention like little else in the world right now. I get drawn in and follow you from the sidelines, wandering the fringe of the scene, curious and longing. I develop crushes that I hold silently, wishing you might take notice and use me for service, hoping you will pull me into your arms and invite me to play.

If I can, I dodge actual invitations, though. The rare times that I have slipped and fallen to my knees in worship end in terrible ways. I lack the stability in my inner-self to submit and withdrawing and running away hurts almost as much as the bindings or bruises. I am not a worthwhile plaything for you. My curiosity turns to terror far too quickly for your tastes.

And yet, I remain...wandering, curious, and afraid of you.

Slightly off

I am starting to think the Universe is prepping for something, and I'm nervous. It's just the little things that are not quite right but keep stacking up.

Family chores didn't get done on Sunday because neither Beloved or I had the energy to muster through with the kids. Then we didn't complete trash on Tuesday, although Beloved DID get the recycling out and emptied the kitchen trash. *wry smile* It's a pride point that the household usually only generates 2 bags of trash all week, so it's not a problem, just one more thing that is off.

Both the kids have been having a tough time sleeping. Girl has been having night terrors (screaming and restless, but not waking up), and last night it was Boy who woke the household. The girls ended up in the master bed and the boys took Beloved's room, but it's still just plain off.

Meals around here have been largely MIA. Beloved's chosen some evening workouts and that means either I am trying to feed the kids really early (and sometimes in the car) so we can use childcare at the gym OR I'm simply not inspired to bother cooking. Really, I have been eating like crap, and I am feeling it. I have to address this one, but I'm not sure how.

Beloved and I were really excited about a date night this weekend...going to a wine festival and then having a night without the kids!...but that has been brought into question because of childcare. My cousin was found unresponsive and hasn't regained consciousness, and so my aunt isn't sure she will be available.

I have had a really hard time connecting with Beloved this week. It seems that EVERYTHING I say comes out negative or wrong. I know I'm feeling anxious and, despite decent sleep, I'm tired. *sigh* My therapist wants to meet with Beloved also next week to talk about things that my sessions are triggering.

Blah! On Fet, a friend suggested hibernation. It sounds really good right now!

Weight and waiting

Beloved is losing weight.

More than 30 pounds of weight, in fact. He is looking amazing, feeling great, and rightfully crows about his triumphs. He's halving his food intake and opting for healthier choices. He's singing 45 minutes into zumba classes, walking miles at night, and managing yoga poses I never dreamed I'd see in real life.

I have done nothing but wait. Uninspired, I have been hoping to wake up one morning with the burning itch to go to the gym or even walk with the kids. It hasn't happened, and I have been stuck between 203 and 205 pounds for months. The excuses are the usual...too hot, too much trouble, too many injuries. It amounts to the same thing, though. I'm waiting and the waiting is weighing on me.

Part of me feels trapped. With two growing kids, I am faced with "I'm hungry" all day long, and absentmindedly popping a handful of dry cereal in my mouth because it has been brought to me. With the heat and humidity wilting me and my garden, I am uninterested in spending any time in the sun. Wrestling the kids into childcare so I can do a workout I am not excited about is just one more obstacle.

I know these are excuses. I know what I *need* to do to lose weight. I have the knowledge and the tools.

When Beloved bounds into the kitchen, proclaiming the scale's reading with pride, I almost automatically frown. It's not fair to him...I am proud of him and impressed with him. No, Beloved, I'm not happy about your weight loss...because I hear what you don't...this horrible depressing voice nagging me that I can't do it, that I will fail so why bother starting. I always fail...fail to lose weight, fail to land a job, fail to save my mom, fail, fail, fail.

So goes the cycle of depression.

Loose

Saturday night I hit bottom, complete with the worthlessness and vaguely suicidal thoughts. Beloved tried to talk to me, and all I heard was negative. After a couple of rounds, we managed to play a game and not talk about it anymore.

Sunday was morning chores with the kids. Beloved was summoned in on some work and had plans with Sunshine in the evening. I took the kids to one of the museums and managed to avoid having to talk to anyone about anything important all day.

Monday was Labor Day and started out a little rough. Beloved came home tired and promptly fell asleep cuddling...a sleep deep enough that I got up and made pancakes before he roused again. The family had some spats, but we managed to pull it together and spent the afternoon at an apple orchard.

Today was counseling. I spent the morning staring at my room and trying to mentally reorganize it. I did clear off some of my dresser and desk and got the bed stripped. Some productivity, I suppose. Counseling was adrift. She asked me what I was skirting. "Everything and nothing. I feel like I am grasping at anything I can to see if it will invoke some sense of direction." I'm lost in a blur of detachment and loneliness, but I don't really want anyone inside this bubble. If I can keep them out, I keep out the feelings, and I'm so tired of hurting.

She says my detachment disorder isn't flared by the kids because my child-self connects with them, but in doing so, I awaken the undigested grief of all the traumas of my own childhood...maybe that is why I've become so unstable since being a mother? I don't know.

Joy quoted Dr. Wayne Dyer

“By referring to previous struggles and using them as reasons for not getting on with your life today, you’re assigning responsibility to the past for why you can’t be successful or happy in the present.”

I recognize the truth there, but I don't know how to change my focus. My counselor asked what my vision was for myself. I've tried several ideas on here...horticulture, mortuary, social work, teacher, caretaker...but none of them stick, none of them inspire me to go beyond the first step of collecting information about the role. I keep looking backward because if I look forward, I get stung and afraid of the blank unknown.

Escape

It smells heavily of rain, but it is different. I wonder if it's the coastal surge.

It's Saturday and Beloved had already taken the kids out. What will I do with the day? There's a million things that need attention, but when I start to consider them, I want to crawl back in bed, which lends itself to feeling worthless. I just want everything to go away.

So it goes...

I can't sleep.

Earlier today I was utterly exhausted, to the point of nauseous and dizzy. I managed to get the kids fed, put on a movie, took a cool shower, and past out. Beloved checked on me, but didn't really rouse me beyond getting fresh ice water. I slept a good 4 hours...

Now, of course, it's midnight and sleep seems far away. I consider moving laundry or trying to be productive and wonder if that is a good idea. I'm still a bit nauseous, and shouldn't I try meditation or something to stay quiet? *sigh* My thoughts remain fuzzy and confused. Focusing is hard.

I suppose I'll see about the dishes and go from there. Perhaps Beloved will be home soon to coax me back to bed and sleep.

step by step

I'm tired and groggy and my brain is full of cobwebs. Yesterday was definitely a drop...irritable and snippy. I avoided people as much as possible and I took some meds and was in bed by 8:30. Except for Beloved nudging me a few times, I slept through the night, but getting up at 7:30 was a drag. Two hours and two cups of coffee later, I am still not really functioning. Icing on the cake is a light pink tinge...my moontime is kicking in. That is about 10-12 days early, but it accounts for the pimples.

Thanks to Issac, the weekend forecast is rain, rain, and more rain. It's desperately needed here, and it will fit my mood. I just am sorry it happens to be the holiday weekend.

55 hours...

I'm starting to get overwhelmed.

The Plan is to head to the cabin for the weekend. I'm looking at the house, the packing, the laundry. I get snap-shot, zoom-in mental pictures of all the things that are out of place. I can't focus enough to get anything done.

That Girl is asleep on the couch and Boy is content watching television is a sheer blessing. If they were at each other or whining at me, I'm pretty sure I'd lose it...

documenting

If my UP switch was flipped Monday night, then I am about 52 hours past it. I am definitely crashing...it has a very physical feel to it, like a caffeine crash with jitters. Mentally, I am having trouble following conversations and communicating with Girl is agony (she likes to try to talk with her thumb in her mouth, on top of the 3-year old logic and word mispronunciation).

My eyes are gritty and I desperately want to curl up and go to sleep. I did try to lay down, but I was interrupted and my thoughts kept wandering over things I *should* do.

Icarus and recognition of a familiar pattern

In Greek mythology, Icarus attempted to escape from Crete by means of wings that his father constructed from feathers and wax. He ignored instructions not to fly too close to the sun, and the melting wax caused him to fall into the sea where he drowned.

I am Icarus today.

It isn't ignoring instructions per se, but today I have flown waaaaay high. It's been building up for the last couple of days, and last night the wave crested. I couldn't get to sleep, and when I DID, I didn't stay asleep. I was up at 5:30am and couldn't get back to DreamTime.

I was productive...I made pancakes and started laundry. When the kids got up, I laughed and played with them. I teased Beloved mercilessly as he walked out the door. I blogged about all the good stuff going on. I got all the gear together that I needed for an afternoon away from home and set off for my 1pm counseling appointment.

It wasn't until my therapist realized that I was cracking her up that something clicked. "I have never seen you like this before. What changed?"

Nothing. No diet changes, no relationship changes, no big breaks in responsibilities. This just is an UP day.

She started quizzing me about all of it. I admitted that there was an edge...that I will crash hard and by Thursday afternoon, I expect to be a complete mess. That is the pattern...every couple of weeks, for about 36 hours, I'm high as a kite. I slip a day later, and then the sleep deprivation catches me and it's utter hell of depression and misery for about 3 or four days before I "normalize" to my typical dysthymic level. It doesn't seem triggered by anything specific, it just happens. It's been happening for years and years.

She got up and got some tests, and while I was doing them, she said, "You even look different...animated."

I scored borderline bipoler.

Duh. I could have told you that. The problem is my UP is extremely short and I don't think any medical professional has really seen one in progress before. Sure, I will TELL them they happen, but the general low is much more familiar, more typical. I don't have a "normal emotional baseline" or something like that. The dysthymia IS accurate, but I do present the hypermanic very briefly before a spectacular crash.

*sigh* I'm still high. Despite being up for 20 hours, running all day, and a hard workout at the gym, I can't relax. I'm writing all of this up and having trouble sitting still. I don't know if I will be able to sleep soon at all.

But tomorrow...and the next day...and the weekend...

*sigh*

More good stuff!

I did in fact manage to spend Saturday cleaning house. I knocked out almost all of the weekly chores, took four showers to prevent overheating, and managed to actually ACCOMPLISH something.

Sunday, the family met up with my dad and his wife and we fested on Ethiopian food. Going back to their place, we enjoyed a rustic blueberry pie and squeezed in a couple of hands of bridge in before the kids were too squirrelly for company.

Monday, I took advantage of the cool day to pull about 12 bags of stuff out of the attic and scheduled a pick-up with a local charity. This morning, it is all gone. Hurrah!

My moods are still rocky at best, but I am getting things done and that helps a lot. Tonight, Beloved wants to meet up at the gym and has given me the option of taking off for the evening. I'm debating on doing my own workout. I could use it, if I can summon up the energy and motivation to do it...