Hallelujah

lately, moreso than ever in my life, I find myself embracing things that cause me pain or worry. i feel so completely detached and bored with everything, that "fixing" something seems good, even when it's bad. this goes in almost every case, of course there are some things that i'd rather be without regardless, but all the stupid minutiae that pops up...it's good. i feel like a fox news reporter, waiting for the next catastrophe. Only in my personal life.

Ouch!

It's that old familiar feeling. Do you know it?

Your chest is getting tighter and your throat feels like it is closing up. You start breathing faster without even noticing and your hands tingle and start to sweat. You might even start to get sick to your stomach.

Yeah.... that's it. High anxiety... your old friend. Back and ready to do business.

It's all over me. I feel like I am about to die, like something bad is about to happen, like someone is about to hurt me and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

It's not a good feeling. "It's bad, bad, very bad," to quote a friend.

In this case, I've done it to myself.

I've only had.... let's see now... a year to produce some paperwork for my lawyer. That should've been done about 9 months ago.

Yet my state of anxiety and upset over not knowing what I'm doing and the emotional trauma of it all and what has happened in my life as a result of my own initiation of a new path in my life has immobilized me. I did some work on it last August. I worked on it again in May.

But not since.

Now I'm in trouble. Why did I do this to myself? I just need to sit down and do it. Even if it is hard, it must be done.

There's just no nice way to say, "Yes. We do have to get divorced. Yes. I do miss you but we have to get divorced because I have moved on. Yes. I realize that you realize that you made mistakes. Yes. I realize that I made mistakes. Yes. I think I'm smarter now and I believe that you believe that you're smarter now. But no... we aren't getting back together."

I always want a happy ending. But I'm part of two other people's stories. And what's the real happy ending for me?

I thought I knew the answer to that question more than once in my life, yet here I am asking the question again.

And then there's the anxiety. The sense of panic.

Sigh. I need to get out of the muck I've created and move on where ever that moving takes me. I am not sure it is going to take me to a happy place.

"All I wanna do is have some fun before I die." Sheryl Crow

Yeah. Righ back atcha, Sistah.

Megan Cosby

I don't remember where Portia and I saw her. Or perhaps Portia didn't, although I remember talk of the technique. Notwithstanding, I stumbled across her work recently on the interweb and love it all over again. See my favourite for yourself here.  

In other news, I've been hammering pellets into wood for what seems like an eternity, building something that belongs in a funeral home. And it lives in my living room. I really should leave this sort of thing to the professionals. 

Missing a Tater Tot

It is one of those days I miss my tater tot. I hear now that I am to blame for some heinous wrong done to my offspring. That, somehow, in trying to be the parent I should be, in trying to do what I thought was the right thing, I got it all wrong.

So wrong.

How do I pay for this transgression? By being held at arm's length and not being given the priviledge of the one thing I always wanted- just to know who he is. Not to tell him what to be, or act disappointed if he chose to be a This over a That, or for him to agree with all I believe... just to get the opportunity to know who he really is.

Maybe this is it.

Maybe this is what really is.

Just emptiness and space and a great quantity of silence.

I miss the pillow fights and tickle time and quiet time. I miss playing tag and going to school plays and playdays and watching him run and smile and laugh.

I miss how he was a self-chosen vegetarian until he was 7.

I miss how he liked tiny red grapes.

I miss how we got frozen yogurt after vaccinations and it seemed to make getting the shot a little less horrible for us both.

I miss seeing a new playground and just stopping spontaneously to try it out.

I miss Toys R Us.

I miss soccer and roller hockey and basketball and t-ball games.

I miss his snaggle-toothed smile.

I miss Halloween and making costumes by hand.

I miss video games and knowing he preferred mustard over ketchup.

The list goes on and on...

I miss a Tater Tot.
My Tater Tot.
I'd like to have that with a side of hugs one day. And a big helping of, "I forgive you."

But it appears that will have to wait.