Monday, July 6, 2015
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Who Will Be The Human Cannonball Now?
My husband's uncle Bob passed away last night. He was too young, positive, funny and smart to fairly leave behind such a void.
Who will be The Human Cannonball now?
Wrapped in something metallic, magnetic, somehow generating its own light. Tough.
Still I think about how I feel. How awful, huh?
How I feel like an outsider to those that used to fold me into every dark corner of their life. How I am "good with trauma" but unable to be good to and with my own family.
"There's nothing you can do now." "We'll let you know when it's time to come."
Rightfully so, they never did tell. It's over now and we'll get to scrapbook the program. Cut the edges off so that the image bleeds. We were spared.
---
Thanks, dear blog, for letting me only come complaining. There are good things too, but burdening some other walking being with my problems seems selfish. So they get the good and you get the bad. I'm not ashamed to say that you get better writing, though.
Who will be The Human Cannonball now?
Wrapped in something metallic, magnetic, somehow generating its own light. Tough.
Still I think about how I feel. How awful, huh?
How I feel like an outsider to those that used to fold me into every dark corner of their life. How I am "good with trauma" but unable to be good to and with my own family.
"There's nothing you can do now." "We'll let you know when it's time to come."
Rightfully so, they never did tell. It's over now and we'll get to scrapbook the program. Cut the edges off so that the image bleeds. We were spared.
---
Thanks, dear blog, for letting me only come complaining. There are good things too, but burdening some other walking being with my problems seems selfish. So they get the good and you get the bad. I'm not ashamed to say that you get better writing, though.
Monday, March 30, 2015
Pollen Eyes: Foolish Hopeful Wants to Go Home
Hi.
Through the wall I can hear Seth talk on the phone to someone who may move to Austin. The restaurants, weather, dogs, outdoors, music. All wonderful.
And I'm on the other side of the door. Choking down pitiful tears. Feeling so sorry for myself as someone chalk-outlines my pain and firmly excludes himself from it.
I have the benefit (is it, though?) of idly riding along on Seth's income until the right (any) job comes along. And in that wheel-spinning waiting game I am shrinking. I am undoing. I hear each itemized loss be listed: my beautiful home, my important (it was! I think!) job, my proximity to the known.
But I've been given a do-over! A fresh set of monopoly money and a new shiny shoe from which to launch my real estate career! C'mon railroads!
All I have to do in that time is decide who I want to be and then spend 4 months (so far) trying to be that. Then, when (now) it doesn't work, decide that I would want to be a receptionist or other professional warm body, or for Christ's sake a volunteer only to find that I am one of 100 people vying for said free labor and there is someone with 15 years of volunteering experience and I'll be put in the maybe-next-time pile. Still waiting for next time over here!
I have a 15-month lease to get my shit figured out so we can repurchase a home and I can get back to being the adult I was so proud of from 2011-2014.
Until then it's sad blogging or therapy.
With all the guests I'm having to endure (sorry, but I really am having a hard time with all the people... it's a bad time for 20 questions about how my job search is going. Short answer: shitty.) I chose blogging. Talking to a stranger for money sounds a lot like networking and I have to do more of that than I like as it is.
Through the wall I can hear Seth talk on the phone to someone who may move to Austin. The restaurants, weather, dogs, outdoors, music. All wonderful.
What do you do for work? I get to work for my company back in Chicago, but unfortunately Jenny hasn't found work yet. Its a tough, saturated market for her skill set. You're in HTM, right? Oh there's tons of visitor traffic and hotels here. You should be fine.
Do you own your home? We did in Chicago. We sold it to move here. We are renting right now because we don't know where we want to be. We thought living in an apartment building would help us make friends too.
What's the air quality in terms of allergies? I don't have allergies, but Jenny has had a bad time with them. I think they're worse than Chicago. Oh and the bugs are bad. Jenny sorta attracts them. I don't usually have a problem with mosquitos.
Is is really, really unbearably hot? I love the heat! I am so glad to not have to wear a winter coat again. Jenny sunburns easily and gets heat rash with anything over 90*, but I don't have that problem.
And I'm on the other side of the door. Choking down pitiful tears. Feeling so sorry for myself as someone chalk-outlines my pain and firmly excludes himself from it.
I have the benefit (is it, though?) of idly riding along on Seth's income until the right (any) job comes along. And in that wheel-spinning waiting game I am shrinking. I am undoing. I hear each itemized loss be listed: my beautiful home, my important (it was! I think!) job, my proximity to the known.
But I've been given a do-over! A fresh set of monopoly money and a new shiny shoe from which to launch my real estate career! C'mon railroads!
All I have to do in that time is decide who I want to be and then spend 4 months (so far) trying to be that. Then, when (now) it doesn't work, decide that I would want to be a receptionist or other professional warm body, or for Christ's sake a volunteer only to find that I am one of 100 people vying for said free labor and there is someone with 15 years of volunteering experience and I'll be put in the maybe-next-time pile. Still waiting for next time over here!
I have a 15-month lease to get my shit figured out so we can repurchase a home and I can get back to being the adult I was so proud of from 2011-2014.
Until then it's sad blogging or therapy.
With all the guests I'm having to endure (sorry, but I really am having a hard time with all the people... it's a bad time for 20 questions about how my job search is going. Short answer: shitty.) I chose blogging. Talking to a stranger for money sounds a lot like networking and I have to do more of that than I like as it is.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
In Which I Say To Self, "That Sounds Hard"
I wrote an advice blogs for years and am JUST NOW realizing how annoying that is.
I had caffeine with a friend and alcohol with another friend. I had lots of revelations about how much I just can't know anyone else's struggle. Its impossible to walk in their shoes, as one said. Who cares what my opinions are on other people's lives. Statement, not question.
I've been wrong about a lot, and I've published most of it here to really rub the salt in. I've given up whatever "faith" used to be to me and pretty much take guidance from gut feelings and Yogi tea tags.
"By honoring your words, you are honored."
"If you don't love where you come from, you can't love where you're going."
"We are here to love each other, serve each other and uplift each other."
"Socialize with compassion, kindness and grace."
Love! Compassion! St. John's Wort steeped for 5 minutes!
On what I can advise (myself) is how to just be with your feelings. Let them out when they need to be out. Practice self care. Practice listening. Forgive people when they try to tell you to put your feelings away and just "embrace it" already. YogiTeaJesus knows I need some forgiveness for that, too.
In this advice about getting through mundane cocktail parties, we're asked to just level with people instead of trying to identify with them. "That sounds hard," is always the best response to hearing about someone's career. It helps them feel heard. Important. Sympathy.
Same goes for moving, divorce, unemployment, depression, loss, overwhelming wins, guilt, backhanded compliments and just "venting".
"That sounds hard."
"Yeah, it is."
I had caffeine with a friend and alcohol with another friend. I had lots of revelations about how much I just can't know anyone else's struggle. Its impossible to walk in their shoes, as one said. Who cares what my opinions are on other people's lives. Statement, not question.
I've been wrong about a lot, and I've published most of it here to really rub the salt in. I've given up whatever "faith" used to be to me and pretty much take guidance from gut feelings and Yogi tea tags.
"By honoring your words, you are honored."
"If you don't love where you come from, you can't love where you're going."
"We are here to love each other, serve each other and uplift each other."
"Socialize with compassion, kindness and grace."
Love! Compassion! St. John's Wort steeped for 5 minutes!
On what I can advise (myself) is how to just be with your feelings. Let them out when they need to be out. Practice self care. Practice listening. Forgive people when they try to tell you to put your feelings away and just "embrace it" already. YogiTeaJesus knows I need some forgiveness for that, too.
In this advice about getting through mundane cocktail parties, we're asked to just level with people instead of trying to identify with them. "That sounds hard," is always the best response to hearing about someone's career. It helps them feel heard. Important. Sympathy.
Same goes for moving, divorce, unemployment, depression, loss, overwhelming wins, guilt, backhanded compliments and just "venting".
"That sounds hard."
"Yeah, it is."
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Something's Coming
Something's coming.
I can feel it at the back of my neck
the back of my throat.
I could split all my hairs from the end up
waiting for it.
Winter's early and hard and different this year.
It's full of change. Change within change.
I'll never be this again.
I don't know if I'll miss it.
I'm hurting you and you and you.
It's not my fault. I'm so sorry. I wish I could stop it.
Stop it.
god I hope no one reads this anymore.
Speaking of change. I'm not. I'm still stuck.
I'll always be unable to change. Let go. Move.
Move.
Move.
Time and space don't measure the same but somehow I'm supposed to move.
Start over.
Move.
Start over.
Move.
Time and space, I have threads and they'll be cut, surely. And moved.
Regrow.
Move.
Regrow.
Move.
That hard V. Why does it have to be so hard.
A turn.
A hard left or right.
Oh! Reserve your judgement because your turns are just as pointed.
Move.
I can leave a trail but I'll never go home again.
You'll have your cake and eat without me.
The postal service can stay in business maybe.
Your kids will hug me tentatively, strangely.
I'll keep sending checks and they'll know me from paper.
I'll be new, blonde, an entrepreneur. Shit. Ha!
How dumb.
If I can, if I am smart, I'll turn the dial way down.
Get really quiet.
Move
and just be.
I can feel it at the back of my neck
the back of my throat.
I could split all my hairs from the end up
waiting for it.
Winter's early and hard and different this year.
It's full of change. Change within change.
I'll never be this again.
I don't know if I'll miss it.
I'm hurting you and you and you.
It's not my fault. I'm so sorry. I wish I could stop it.
Stop it.
god I hope no one reads this anymore.
Speaking of change. I'm not. I'm still stuck.
I'll always be unable to change. Let go. Move.
Move.
Move.
Time and space don't measure the same but somehow I'm supposed to move.
Start over.
Move.
Start over.
Move.
Time and space, I have threads and they'll be cut, surely. And moved.
Regrow.
Move.
Regrow.
Move.
That hard V. Why does it have to be so hard.
A turn.
A hard left or right.
Oh! Reserve your judgement because your turns are just as pointed.
Move.
I can leave a trail but I'll never go home again.
You'll have your cake and eat without me.
The postal service can stay in business maybe.
Your kids will hug me tentatively, strangely.
I'll keep sending checks and they'll know me from paper.
I'll be new, blonde, an entrepreneur. Shit. Ha!
How dumb.
If I can, if I am smart, I'll turn the dial way down.
Get really quiet.
Move
and just be.
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