four poster, dull torpor, pulling downwards.

So. I have been silent for a while here, haven't I?

And I don't really know what to say now. Something like a dark cloud seems to have me. Not a dark cloud, not really. But not a sunny one either. It feels like a lot to call this "depression" but maybe....if I am being honest....

Friday I came home from work, sat down on the couch, and barely moved for nine hours. NINE hours, people. Watched movies, made food, peed, but really, little else. The weight is ballooning, the exercise rate is down to zero - ZERO - and I am basically in "have to" mode. Every.single.day. I make myself get up and go to work, even though my brain is screeching at me to call in! use those sick hours! just stay here where it is warm and cozy and safe!

Not safe. Not at all. I know if I call in, just one day, if I let myself fall into that black hole, I will never get out. Or at least not for a long time. And I have people who depend on me. Precious, adorable, wonderful people who need me to get up every day. Blackness, you stay over there. I mean it.  You are tempting, but I will NEVER let you in near my children. Ever.

I am stronger than you. I am stronger than this. I just can't seem to get off the couch.

I wish you a peace-filled 2012

The end of the year is such a time for ruminations, isn't it? I looked over statuses, mused over letters written and received, looked around my home, looked through photos of the kids, mused as I flipped through pages of a journal I keep where I don't write so much as draw, and all in all, I felt pretty good.

2011 and I were mostly friends, I think. I see the progress I have made this year and I am happy. Each of my children hit major high points in this past year and like mothers everywhere I feel cheered when they are cheered. I am so proud of US, as a family, and as I think over my last post I realize that maybe I have not been so alone, after all.

I am not one for resolutions, not so much. I think I believe more in absolution. "In 2012 I will no longer beat myself up for the following...." I have thought long and hard over this one, and my center self, the one I am learning to listen to and regard more and more, seems to be yearning for PEACE. Peace.

Peace in my home environment - keep on with the major over haul decluttering we have been doing, and gain control over the house, in hopes that a quieter, more organized living space can aid in creating a quieter, more organized mind inside me.

Peace in my family. I know children will always have their squabbles, but I would like to somehow reduce the simmering teenage hostility that seems to be always lurking.

Peace in my heart - to see Mr. Hate without much of a twinge would be so lovely. And maybe, even, find a new cause for palpitations in 2012 when I see someone new?

Peace in my body, peace with food - it's about choices, time, and intent. I have the ability to do better, and I need to focus on that.

Peace in my soul - a better prayer life, more time to just be still, more time to dream. Who wouldn't want that?

And finally, I will strive in 2012 to make peace with my finances. I have danced around it long enough. What an amazing feeling of relief would I have at the end of 2012 with that cursed monkey debt of my back at last?

So not resolutions, exactly, but nice thoughts. I strive for peace. Released from the crushing sorrow of the divorce, which seems to abate every day, I think maybe I could really make progress in these areas this year.

Peace to you all, my dear ones.

PS - assuming the Mayans were wrong, of course! :)

WE wish you a Merry Christmas....

WE, WE, WE wish you a Merry Christmas! WE seems to be everywhere, hitting me right in the heart.

Funny, but last year it didn't bother me so much, but this year, I am getting we'ed all over, and it smarts.

Little things - Mr. Hate on the phone, discussing shopping plans - "not sure where WE are going..."

A man in church, up at the altar rail. Puts his hand on his wife's shoulder, whispers in her ear, they laugh.

"WE are going to my mom's for Christmas"
"WE always go to Lasallette...."
" WE do this secret thing for the kids..."

Christmas card photos showing families in fun outifts by the tree.
Happy families shopping, men and women holding hands at the pagaents, driving in cars as a family.
I miss that.

All around me are people who are dating again. Everyone tells me I should. I should. Should I? I am lonely. I would like to have love in my life again.

But I am terrified too. The last time I went on a date I was 24 years old. The women at my office go on dates and regale me with tales of absolute horror shows and losers that cheat, lie,steal, enough to keep me locked at home for the next 20 years. ugh.

Why would I want to do that? Just so "we" could wish you a Merry Christmas?

No, of course not. Not just that. I want to feel a hand on my shoulder. I want someone to smile that smile at me. I want to have someone to ride in a car with. To talk to. To be ME with.

For now, I wish ME a Merry Christmas!

Thanks, Ben

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One step forward. And then another one....

Just when I was doing so well. Just when I was starting to breathe. Just a little breath, not a big one.

Tell me, where can I go that he can't hurt me anymore? Where can I go where his toxic fingers won't reach me, freezing me with his illness, his lying, his....slime?

Tell me, Lord, and I will go. I will so gladly go.

Save me, my dearest, most beloved Lord, save me from him and all he ruins. Keep me out of his path of destruction, bullying, hatred.  Keep me safe, and spare the children.

I will go Lord. I promise that I will.
Show me. Save me. Help me.

Where is the warranty?

I love her. I do. Never doubt it. But something is up with Third that is making her damn hard to like. She is as close to being out of control as a 12 year old can get, and I am thiiiiiiis close to losing it. Seriously.

She is way -- WAY -- too old for magical thinking, so what is UP with her latest nonsense? I asked her almost every single day of summer vacation to do her summer reading. I READ HER THE FIRST SEVEN OR EIGHT CHAPTERS of the book. I offered to get it for her on tape....in short, I tried everything. Tomorrow is her test on the book, and it's not done. Not no way, not no how. She was supposed to come read it today at my work, in a quiet study carrel. She went to a friend's house instead, and lied and told the mom I said she could. I'm letting her swing. I hope they throw the book (heh) at her. I hope she flunks. I really do. I have told that child about actions having consequences from the day her feet hit the ground, and I swear to Gawd if the school let's her off, fearing the skew to their MCAS results I will knee cap someone.

Last month she told the med evaluation lady that she was just not sure she could take medicine, (as both her therapist AND her pediatrician suggested) because I get drunk every night and thus could not be trusted to dose the meds properly. She told her therapist I beat her when she doesn't do her chores. She told me her father's partner raised his hand to her and that her father hit her repeatedly when they were on vacation.

One of these days she is going to say something like that to the wrong burdened reporter, and all hell will rain down on her head, and what then? I have tried to explain this to her. Every one has. What is going on in that brain of hers?

I am sorrier than she is that her dad and I split up. I am sorry she has some special needs that make it harder for her to learn. I am sorry she has a late birthday and I didn't know she was going to turn out to have learning issues so I let her start kindergarten at 5 instead of holding her back a year. I am sorry for all the things she claims I do that ruin her and cause her to be sure to fail. I am beyond sorry that I don't have a co-parent of ANY weight or merit to spell me when I just need a break.

I am sorry that I don't have a magic wand to wave it all away. Mostly though, I am sorry she has a human for a mother. I get tired, I don't always have excellent parenting replies at the ready, and sometimes I really just wish she would shut the hell UP already, and go to sleep in her own bed and stop with the demands, demands, demands, an unquenchable endless squawking baby bird, mouth open, never, ever filled. I am sorry for the voice in my head that says "you created Veruca, Mrs. Salt!" I am sorry I don't know how to best help my little girl every time she needs my help.

I am sorry, because she is EXHAUSTING me, and I am almost out of patience.

What happens when it's really gone?

Enough?

Ah, the sun sets on another weekend. Did I use every minute wisely? Did I seize each day, crush it, and make it count? Ummmm. No. Not so much.

But I did get quite a lot done. So it is enough? Enough is a word and a concept I have been grappling a lot with lately. I have more than enough. Too much, in fact, given the clutter around here. And yet, the desire to accumulate more is with me, all the time. Not in a compulsive, HAVE to have it way, but I do wish my house was fixed up more nicely, better appointed, if you will. There is more than enough food in the cabinets, and yet I think every other day one of the fry will wail about how "we have nothing to eat in this house!" I have seen people with NOTHING to eat in their homes. A dirt kitchen floor, and an open fire pit for a stove. I will never, ever say I do not have enough to eat. I have a roof over my head, I know where my children are at night, and I have a dry, comfortable, and safe place to sleep. That, in itself, is enough.

And yet -- here it is Sunday evening, and the list of all I did NOT do this weekend hangs heavy over me. I did not weed that garden, clean out this or that space, did not bring this or that to here or there. Did not spend time walking in nature, did not spend enough time with each child individually, did not spend enough time with my mother, did not did not did not. It does not feel like I got "enough" done. I made it to church, but not a museum. I cooked delicious food, but did not work in the garden. I did several long put off tasks, but did not complete several others....so does it count?

Who am I comparing against? When will enough be enough? It is true, that when the house is tidy, I feel less stressed. But right now to get the house really tidy would require a dumpster, a flame thrower and the team from Hoarders.....And again, "enough" comes into to play. Is it clean enough? Enough for whom?

And how is this all my job? Have I done a good enough job parenting, if the girls don't feel vested in keeping the house clean? Let's get real here, peeps -- who in the hell has kids who skip down the halls singing "yes, it's time to help mom clean today!" This isn't the Disney channel, folks. My kids walk around here with the same baffled looks I see on the faces of all of the friends too - how does the house get clean? They don't know.


Enough. Such a fun word to say, with that groovy fricative and all. So much, in two small syllables. Yes, I have enough. But did I do enough this weekend? And who is asking?