Something New Old

Something I used to do and do again (for now).

Tarot for the next 78 days:

Current Position - Three of Wands. Hard work and travel. The princess takes a long journey to rescue her prince, making sacrifices and surviving trials along the way. If she stays motivated, her efforts will be rewarded. Self-motivation, freedom, reward, romance.

What Crosses - The Sun (inverted). Missed opportunities, delays, doubt, fear of missing out, depression.

What's Above (cerebral influences) - Eight of  Swords (inverted). Freedom, new perspectives, taking a stand, strength, healing.

What's Below (emotional influences) - Ace of Coins (inverted). Bad finances, excessive spending, greed, stinginess, poor planning.

What's Behind (the past) - Two of Swords. Being stuck between hard choices. Sita's decision between Scylla and Charybdis is not easy and cannot be made blindly; it calls for self-reflection. Things can only remain balanced for so long before a move must be made. Facing fears, a stalemate, denial, opposition, a precarious position.

What's Before (the future) - Five of Swords. A fight won through deceit. Set overthrows his brother Osiris and is seen gloating over his brother's inconsolable wife, Isis. While Set represents a tyrant of a victor, Isis is a defeated combatant who will eventually bring about Set's defeat. Surrender, betrayal, bullying, violence, crime.

How Others See It/You - The Moon. The subconscious and all its illusions, potential, pitfalls, and the possibility of self-deception. Here, two tanukis - shape-shifting raccoon-like animals - each stare at a different moon, though it is not clear which is the real one. Trickery, melancholy, anguish, illusion, secrecy.

Where You Will Find Yourself (the environment) - The Chariot. Harnessing emotions and charging down a straight, clear path. Where the prince may have floundered before, he has learned from his mistakes and now blazes forward confidently. A journey, perseverance, rushed decisions vengeance, victory.

Hopes & Fears - The Hierophant. A divine figure and teacher who shares the rules, rites, and rituals to follow as a community. There is a place for everyone, and everyone in their place. She encourages the comfort and support of the group, the path well-trodden. Conformity, compassion, social approval, tradition, legacy.

(Possible) Outcome - Page of Swords. Youthful intelligence. Princess Parizade uses her wit to succeed where others have failed, her optimism intact through it all. She is a harbinger of new beginnings and new ideas for herself and those around her. Talkativeness, energy, thoughtfulness, curiosity, truthfulness. 

...as they say in Letterkenny - "Not s' bad."

11/22/2014

 Damn my makeup looks on-point tonight. It takes about an hour no matter what. So, for the last show, I'm glad it's going to be looking okay. Smooth jazz. While they're playing, setting up for the filming. 35 minutes 'til mic check. Haven't done much all day except play The Sims. It's my personal morse code SOS of IHATEMYLIFE. Except, of course, I don't. I do. I shouldn't. The fuck would make me happy? It's a real "Waters of March" situation. I mixed clary sage and lavender togthter and it smells like a barn. It's hay. I guess I never thought about it before. Maybe I'd just always assumed that the musty undertones of smell were dung and sweat. Nope. Just the smell of dried grass and flowers. It reminds me of the summers I hauled hay on the farm. Not really a happy time of life either. I was trying to remember a time when I was happy and...I can't. I should stop trying to. But between the smooth jazz and smells I can't help it. Am I really supposed to spend the rest of my life trying to build the happy universe I imagined my childhood to be? That's horrifying. These things I love and love deeply have a lot of power. But why should they? Frustrating. It seems like I'm trying to distract myself. But from what? Are the distractions really the business of living? I used to believe they were. Details, minutiae were everything. Now...what great meaning do Tumblr posts and Sims and Skyrim, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and wrestling have? I'm depressed, but I don't really have a way of communicating that. Let the business of living wash over me and try to keep nose and mouth above water line. Buffy in the musical. Ecclesiastes. Like, is it a matter of just following the yellow brick road. And what about the voice that tells me to slow, rest, stop, not bother. That's the same voice that feels shame, regret. And my joy is so often just...absent. It has this vibe, like, one of those absentee moms. Barely there. Sweeping in with stories of where she's been. What could be.

11/8/2014

 I'm kind of mad at you this week. It's been about a year since that last time I've heard from you.

Mainly I'm just continuing this feeling of isolation. Discomfort, unease, quiet, busy-ness. Being as far as far can be. Thank fuck for my job. At least I feel loved during the day. 40 hours a week.

This time of year - fuck - most times of year I feel sucked into outer space. Although I've done a lot since I've been here, there's something in-between. Maybe because I don't really have many strong opinions any more. Part of getting older for introverts? Same amount of anger. Nowhere to direct it, really.

Myself, sometimes. My therapist doesn't suggest I do that. Reprogramming, reprogramming.

Gearing up for parent-teacher conferences. I'm sure I'll think of you while I'm sitting there talking to all the parents about their children. I'll take notes. I'll love it, I'm sure. I love meetings, conferences, interviews. I suppose I would have done well in business. I don't do well without a context.

Had a dream last night that my dad had died and nobody told me, but it was posted on Facebook. Metaphor for my life.

Still unpacking. Sc's spending lots of time unpacking. I'm filling out forms, evaluating small humans, and doing the occasional dish.

Was toying with the idea of taking a week to be lonely and angry in January. Or, maybe, the whole month. Like, just hole up at all the times I don't have to be at work or working out. Just - get it all out of the way, in January so I can enjoy December in Texas and the rest of 2015. March was exceptionally rough this year and there've been a few rough weeks since then.

There's a huge problem trying to balance self-care and all that shit and relationship, work, and Rocky. I suppose friends are what had to go. Have been going.

Anyway. What else is going on...? Level 41 in Skyrim. Both characters. Maybe I'll work on that some this evening.

Sc may have gotten some tequila to bring home by then. There's very little love more than tequila and Skyrim by myself. Then maybe some late night cleaning in that sweet spot of "too stressed and buzzed to go to sleep, so may as well be productive".

Hope all is well with you. Miss you.

11/1/2014

Happy Halloween. Samhain. New Year. It's been a little while since I've written you. Busy this week - every week? Moving, cleaning. Rocky, therapy, work. My carpal tunnel's been acting up lately. So that's been a Thing. Most kitchen things are unpacked. Sc's voiced a preference to be more involved in the unpacking - well, decorating. But it's difficult to decorate if the house is in a state of disarray.

R sent me copies of two books he's been published in. Compilation of short stories centered around Southern horror. I liked one of them more than the other.... I feel like specific place names evoke more of a reaction. Specificity of circumstance, name, and emotion.

Still reading a Flannery O'Connor compilation of short stories. Two shows tonight. Exhausting. The people are great. I suppose it's more the waiting around that bothers. And the fact that I've gotten used to having two home days per week.

Parent-Teacher Conferences next week. Oh my God. So unprepared.

There's a shard of anger in-between the bars of my ribcage. Trying to work its way out. Not directed towards anyone or anything in particular. Just there.

Depression ebbs and flows. Sometimes. Sometimes manageable. Right now is manageable.

So. What struck me about Norwegian Wood was the way the characters simultaneously had symbiosis with each other and couldn't exist, survive, thrive whilst participating in that symbiosis. I related to different parts of every single character. It causes me to feel the distance between myself and those around me. It's comfortable, but disheartening.

Young Frankenstein tomorrow at Bear Tooth if I end up wanting to get out of bed.

I don't know what to say these days. I was talking to my therapist about it and we didn't really resolve it. But maybe that' snot the point of therapy anyway.

So many shoulds between now and Thanksgiving. I think my friends have gotten tired of reaching out and asking me to do things, because...so busy doing things at night. No carving pumpkins except for at work. And, shit. No real sense of identity or place right now.

I mean, I'm where I'm supposed to be, doing what I'm supposed to be doing. But it feels like swimming through murky water. I never was much of a navigator.

The Children of OT - What Beautiful Music They Make!

I worry sometimes. Okay.  Often. I often worry.

S was getting ready for work/waking up in our(?) bedroom, when I heard him loudly say "Deutsch." When he wandered into the office next door a few minutes later I asked him why he'd said deutsch upon which he got angry with me for asking him

"This is the third time I've asked you not to mention the things I say to myself in the mornings. They don't mean anything!"

After which he said that that was the last name of someone (a police officer, I think he said) at Eielson Base in Fairbanks.

*sigh* 

I cried a little. Partly because: hormones. I cry! It happens.

Partly because: why? Ugh. Things are...the same. I am worried.

We Talked About Medication but It Was Inconclusive

- First day of OT school. Woo!

- First day of OT school on very little sleep because I went and anxiety-spiraled at 2:30 in the morning. And L does the bed-hopping thing. Which is very cute when other kids do it. But not to S.

- Something is afoot. I feel it like a storm rolling in. I was trying to get myself to sleep last night with the oppressive hang of a cloud over me. I thought of the ancestors supporting me. Praying over me, even. It seemed like they were implying I need strength for what's coming. I don't think it's just school, either. This is going to be a hard season.

- I can't exactly predict what's coming. And I almost hate to speak whatever's coming into being. But...here are some guesses:

      - S was having or is having or is considering having an affair. This will be my fault. I will be expected         to "fix" it. I won't.

    - Someone will get sick or injured or die. Always a classic. I have L and S's insurance cards, but not one        for me yet. This is stressing me out. And then all the elder stuff, of course.

    - All the fights yet to be. The ones where I am called out for being a shitty stepmom this summer                   (valid). The one where I haven't been keeping up with the house the way I should (I concur). The one         where I will be asked to choose between the OT program and "my family" when "my family" really            means S. This will happen either on my birthday or the night before. There's also the one where I will         get told just how "rude" I am and why and that will probably be valid too. (But I am almost 40 and that       much closer to just not giving a fuck!)

    - "Just" a fire.

- I feel like it always comes back to this, but I'm just strung out on anxiety and not feeling safe. And yes, I know that's kind of how it always is for me. And yes, I am chipping away at that (sort of). But it's...not there yet.

- Currently reading The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert

Cruel to Be Kind In the Right Measure; (fuck that, if it's not clear)

Maybe it's just the dissonance. The disconnect between wanting not to hurt. For things to be black and white. For trusting a new friend over an old friend. Because I wanted!

I wanted to be okay. And capable. And as a result of being believed in to be well. Well, I wasn't then and am not now well. But I am someone who tries.

Of course I wish I were not so difficult a person. And that's why I tamp so much down and squirrel it away out of sight.

Several men have lamented that I'm not "happy". I wearily assume they all had, at one point or another, either become used to the masking I do because...that's what society wants from women, my guys. But it's exhausting to keep up. Or they think we can always be cocooned in the arms of infatuation and first getting to know someone. Being in love.

Infatuation biologically
Lasts 4 years at most
But that doesn't apply to us

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend said it.

So what is wanted or needed here (for my kid, specifically)? Is she to repeat this pattern? I don't know. It's such a very personal thing. While I'm certain she'll have different experiences than myself, I really don't know what to pass along to her regarding neurodivergence, needing downtime, expressing that - or even what's really appropriate from an impartial standpoint! 

That's some of the shit I'm hoping to learn in the OTD program. Watch, it'll be un-researched as of yet. *sigh*. 

Gatekeep. Girlboss. Grey's Anatomy.

Help and Hurt are BOTH Four-Letter-Words

 This week has been solidly in the perma-twilight feels, but I've worked out all TWO days of it so far (or three? Are we counting Sunday? Unsure.) and that's been helping. Dope. 👏Ah.👏Mine.👏

This morning's waking-up-probably-dream-related insight has been: mismatch. Relationships don't work if there's a mismatch in lifestyle, needs, or goals. That's so obvious, right? But there's a big core piece of me that's always been like, "No! I am a bulldozer! This will work because it has to!" To the extent that when I first got to college and started dating I said, aloud, "I think I could be in a relationship with anybody - because I can adjust myself to who they are." WOW. CRINGE. HUGE RED FLAG. I think my mom said something like, "That's not...ideal." But not forcefully. And that says a lot about who we both were at that time.

My uncle posted something on Facebook yesterday in which he wrote a small essay on his dad, my grandpa. My grandpa's great qualities and what he learned from him and blah blah blah. And honestly - yes! My grandpa had some stellar qualities. I hear he even liked to help take care of newborn babies. He would walk them babies around the house late at night when they woke up in the wee hours, which was unheard of in the 50s. The only caveat my uncle gave was that he had "anger issues". No elaboration on what that meant. I wanted to add, "Yeah, and he asked grandma for a divorce and moved out too and you were the only one who got any visitation time with him when they were separated!" But I suppose that's not really my story to tell or information to share. Just a fun little nugget my mom shared with me when S was asking for a separation.

And, to be clear, I adored my grandpa. He was a 10/10 grandpa and managed his anger so well by the time that I came along that there are only three or four instances I can remember in which I realized he was upset at all. But it smacks of gatekeeping to me. My uncle had a completely different relationship with my grandpa than did my mom or my aunt. 

Eh. Families are complicated. Nobody's ever completely Good or completely Bad. And we're all getting triggered like whoa.

Driving around yesterday I realized that when a person is in a helping profession with kids they are, of course, helping and dealing with all the other adults in that child's life as well, but also - they're helping and dealing with the children that those adults were (due to triggering), and the adults those adults-who-were-children had in their lives. An infinity mirror of children back to time before history.

Fun!

Work It Out! It won't work ITSELF out, Charlie.

 In dreams, as in real life, I don't feel as though I can control other people. My subconscious is doing its best to work things out. Without going into specifics, I feel like I need to make a short list of My Shit that I Need to Deal With...and then spend the rest of my life doing that. The following isn't necessarily the list. I just like lists. Bullet points are my bete noir. Or whatever the more current equivalent is en francais.

• Disorganized attachment style and just not...digging very many people romantically/sexually? I understand that there are terms like aromantic and asexual and etc. but those don't quite resonate. I feel like it's messier than that, in my head? And with the physical body I've been dealt the sexual stuff goes in predictable cycles. 28 days if you're nasty. But it doesn't really seem...specific, if that makes sense. Just like, "Ope, those hormones are kicking in. I see what's happening here!" And then as far as disorganized attachment stuff goes, it seems like there's some correlation for me with just staying in situations and not rocking the boat because of unpredictable reward feedback (most addictive form of, etc.) and also just...at this point in my life recognizing that...it's probably just not going to feel different to me in a different relationship. From the outside looking in I imagine that my past relationships all looked very different from each other. To me, the insider, they all felt similar because, yes, I was in them (sorry, guys) but specifically because of my disorganized attachment style. It also seems as though I'm Dismissive Avoidant? Which doesn't feel great to realize. But is great to realize. So anyway, in that sense - no. There isn't a Better Case Scenario where I just Lifetime Movie it and uproot my life and my child's life and life is magically better because Different Partner. Nope. I would still be this (gestures to self) and problems would still be similar (gestures to flowchart I haven't made yet but probably will someday). 
• Masking. Part of the Summer of Suck that it's been is probably coming out of twenty-ish years of having to mask in a context and then let that mask drop and the predictable rise and fall of all that effort and burnout. I took that away and all of a sudden it was either irritating or just not as differentiated and honestly? I can't really tell when I'm masking versus when I'm not. I think my system just susses out the differences using a combination of familiar/versus unfamiliar people and situations but then does that just mean I'm an asshole all the time because I'm not masking? Is it unmasking or is it being bitchy and inconsiderate? Plus everything the Barbie move addressed. WHAT IS THE ANSWER, UNIVERSE?
• Dance 4 Kids. Maybe I've talked about this before, but the question I keep coming back to surrounding sending L to dance classes is, "Look. Not that this is the best option, but is there anything better?" A lot of my contemporaries are already sending their daughters to dance classes and posting pictures like they're so proud that their "minis" are following in their footsteps. And I'm over here like, "Ugh. Do we want to start all that now? Am I ready to drop money on costumes like I have it (I don't)?" I don't want to teach dance classes again yet in order to obtain free classes for L. Gymnastics? Apparently sexual assault and that will way fuck up your body. Swimming? Great! But limited application. Don't come at me, swimming lovers - I don't know my shit. Soccer? I've been told that's not great before the age of, like, eight? From women who did it way to young too long and it fucked up their bodies. Horses? I'm NOT RICH, OKAY. Ice skating? I guess we'll find out. But I'm sure there's some significant problems with that, too. Hockey? I'm not fixing on dropping a few hundred dollars on new equipment every time my kid grows? Martial arts? Maybe. That's a solid maybe.

Okay, gotta go do the paperwork and workout and do the IPE Passport Thing and rearrange the office and do the dishes and laundry and sweep the floor and get ready to go deliver tha' food. 😅

thank you for explaining

 L has been obsessed with Wednesday Addams off-and-on for about the past year, and she loves those videos where they redesign LOL dolls with acetone and tweezers. There are some where they make dolls into characters from Wednesday...but as mermaids?

I don't know why these things exist...but damn. What a time to be alive.

Big Puff Adder

 - You know...it does seem to be helping so far. I'm kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop (systemically), but. Seeing pictures of you brings it together. You are happy! You are living what appears to be a great life. And now I kind of know what's going on. And I feel peaceful about that. Happy even? Dude. You're so happy! At the risk of sounding Gen Alpha - I love that for you. I still wish I could talk to you about life, but the pictures really solidify why that's not an option.

- Listening to podcasts about CPTSD, insecure attachment, and limerence have been helping, as well. Shout out to the Crappy Childhood Fairy!

- Anyway. Moving the upstairs around has been a bit of a rodeo, but probably...one more day? And it'll be sorted. Plus S is in Kodiak Monday and Tuesday, so that means I can probably use his truck while he's gone and haul a whole bunch of stuff to the dump. The rest is going to Buy Nothing groups or getting semi-organized into the new study.

- I've felt like a bit of a stepmonster this summer, and while there are certainly reasons for that (see most of the previous entries and imagine the emotional fallout that definitely expressed itself in some inappropriate ways) that doesn't make it okay. So I feel guilty about uprooting the boys' room and shunting them downstairs and into the study. They're 13 and 11 now, and the hardest thing for me (for reasons that are completely resultant of my own personal experiences) is that they're always on their phones and/or just hole up in their room until noon or 1:00 PM unless the internet is turned off. Do I feel like an asshole for rooting them out of their rooms early when they haven't gotten to sleep until 2:00 AM? Or do I feel like an asshole just...doing my damn stat homework and letting them do whatever until they have to come out but that still involving rooting them out and throwing them into the car...at which time they're still on their phones.... See? I feel like a total asshole no matter what. When they were smaller it was easier in some ways. Harder in others. But I'm not looking forward to when L hits tween-hood. Maybe I'll have more coping skills by then.

- But, so, the hope is that they'll be at least a little more likely to a) get to sleep earlier b) emerge more regularly c) have a built-in staging area for spending time with their dad. But I still feel like I've set their den on fire. And I don't know what the fuck to do with all the clothes they didn't take (most of them) or the toys and arsenals that remain. I mean, they'll end up in the office, one hundred percent, but a large part of me wants to send the guns to Texas. They barely get any use anyway. I know, I know. They still care, they just might not show it explicitly, they don't have the organization or regulation skills and the phones and hiding are a regulatory mechanism, etc., etc. Well, it still sucks. And it's not something I can fix.

- Plus, if we do move? Or if things...do continue to deteriorate.... Things will need to be in a place where they can be stored, moved - whatever needs to happen.

- Anyway, bye. Dropping S off at the airport tomorrow morning. 5:00 AM - woo!

I don't know what that arrangement was I could never tell like you could.

These things take practice.
I wish I didn't seem to need a base of quiet, order, introspection to be my best self.
It can mean I'm not the best mom. Partner. Daughter. Person. 
There are all the metaphors about how everyone is a different type of plant. We all need different things to be okay. To function.

Some seasons are horrible growing seasons.

Stuck in the past. Drawing rings around Saturn.

Things are supposed to get easier with time.

My borderline ass is trying to scoop as much compassion for others. For self. Trying to find the socially appropriate way to be. Trying not to talk too much. Not to shut down too much. Not to respond to the stimuli that tell me: you're back in Mississippi.

This is a new place. Not a do-over. But...it's also a do-over.

Y'know?

Magis

Just kidding; I'm in a very small cohort - and it's all women. So I did join an Ajah!

And the working in fields dominated by women continues. When I was a snotty-nosed twenty-year-old I might have hated that for me, but now? I kind of love it. Perhaps someday I'll find some sort of...middle way.

One of the presenters yesterday said something about how the field is so female dominated that it's something of the opposite of the conventional glass ceiling. He was a he, however, and in my personal experience in female-dominated fields the few men who are there, assuming they're not horribly incompetent, are treated as though they walk on water.

Dance? You can (or used to be able to) be horrible and you'll still get gigs and treated really well. I think that's shifting, but it's taken a long time. And also - the men need to be really horrible. Like, being in your 20s, and instructor, and sexting eighteen-year-olds to the dismay of their parents does not seem to be enough.

Early childhood? Not exactly the same, but, still, a lot of leeway.

Time to go get ready. We're learning more about the Jesuit mission today - which I'm surprisingly feeling connected to. Then volunteering at a food pantry. Which I'm always down for, but seldom initiate on my own. 

Maybe that's the word of the day. Initiation. Then tomorrow it'll be sustenance. Then persistence.