It must be summer....

Today was a good day.

Our housing co-op's social committee organized a barbecue at lunch and at supper, which gave plenty of opportunity for me and the kids to socialize with neighbours. Since some of the other kids had their guinea pigs out, we had out our two remaining rats, who seemed to enjoy themselves, too.

After supper, we met up with Sweetie, and drove out to what we hope will be our new neighbourhood. Said potentially new neighbourhood is in a fairly redneck area, although there is much gentrification taking place. One of the attractions not far from what we hope will be our new house is a racecar track. Our ulterior motive was to check out whether the Saturday night sounds from the track are audible from "our" house. We never did get to the house: boy-child was very excited about the racetrack, and although Sweetie and I were ambivalent about paying money and going in to the stands, that is what we did. We surprised ourselves by having a lot of fun. We couldn't help laughing throughout the boat race- decrepit cars dragging behind them on chains equally decrepit boats, with each driver trying to smash the boat of every other driver. Real redneck type entertainment; since we laughed lots, maybe we're a little redneck, too.

There were fireworks at the end of the evening, in honour of Canada Day. Although girl-child fell asleep during them, the rest of us were treated to a fine display of pyro-technics. Boy-child was very eager to go to the "pits" after all this, but the clean-up from the boat race dragged on interminably, preventing timely access to the pits. "Next time", we told him. I have little doubt that there will be a next time, regardless of where we end up living.

End of the School Year?

The last day of school kind of took me by surprise. I'm not sure how this is possible, but at the end of the day, when I picked up boy-child from after-school care, I was saddened to realize that I had missed the opportunity to thank his teacher, the principal and vice-principal for their influence this year.

It has been a tough year. I was burdened with grief and solo-parenting, which made two things particularly challenging. As previously blogged, one was punctuality. The number of lates on Sam's report card is appalling. I really struggled with getting myself out of bed and functioning, let alone getting two kids out the door and myself to work in a timely manner.

The other huge challenge was supporting Sam's learning at home. Even in Grade One, he has needed to be supported, particularly in his reading. I am still not sure of how to structure an evening to include getting home from work, picking up two children from care, feeding them and attending to homework, bathing and bedding them, all on my own, and all while wanting to escape from the awful reality of my life into the sanctuary of my computer. It has not been a particularly successful endeavour.

This is where Sam's teacher comes in. She has been patient with me and supportive of Sam. She trimmed down the home reading program to include only the reading, saying she would work on the writing in the classroom. He has managed to get through this year, and so have I. Although I have heard from other parents that they found this teacher to be a little hard on occasion, I have felt supported throughout the year, and Sam has too.

The principal and vice-principal have been so supportive, too. They have always had time to talk when I needed it; they have looked out for Sam throughout the year. When I was cracking up this spring, they put us on the school lunch program, which made it possible for me to get through the morning routine again. 'Course, the lunches were pretty awful, but having them provided for him reduced the need for me to stress about making them, and when I did pull a lunch together for him, I had the satisfaction of knowing that I had done a good job with something.

Even though I didn't get the chance to thank them in person, I offer thanks here, to three educators who made a difference this past year.

Pre-Nuptial Agreements?

Optimism, "The Secret", "Pay It Forward", what goes around comes around, the meek shall inherit the earth, karma....

These are the sorts of sentiments I tend to abide by. They have served me well throughout my life; I am generally lucky with parking spots, luggage, love. I do buy insurance for some things, but eschew it for others, thinking "what will be will be".

The topic of pre-nuptial agreements came up on the board recently; I was taken aback by how many people were adamantly in favour of them. I can't quite understand the sentiment. I don't understand why someone would plan for the demise of their relationship, right on the eve of making a commitment to "forever"- it just doesn't make sense to me. Certainly, there are exceptional circumstances, and protection against these may be desirable, but...

Maybe it comes down to living life, in the moment, with joy and abandonment and passion. I don't always manage this, myself, but I aspire to it. I spend far too much time on the computer these days to be a true devotee of impassioned living. I refuse, however, to live my life wrapped in cotton-wool. As one widow, "out" one week longer than I, put it: "I REFUSE to live on the side-lines of life". She has grabbed hold of said life, and has just remarried, to a widower. A widower from the board, also "out" a week longer than I, has also just remarried, to a widow from the board. They aspire to be married for "a damn long time".

I'm willing to bet that neither of these couples has signed a pre-nuptial agreement. I bet neither couple is going to squander more than a moment of this next chapter in their lives fearing things that MAY go bump in the night. Even at 10 months out from what is probably the most seminal event in their lives, two of these young widders have "grabbed the brass ring" for a second time (another young widow's expression) and have chosen to let JOY, rather than fear, rule their lives. I salute them for this, and hope to be right behind them. (Can I have my new house with Sweetie next month, please?)

The Pros and Cons of Tardiness

Yep, that was the focus of my therapy session today.

It turns out that I have quite a lot invested in being late. Although it is a strategy that no longer works all that well for me, psychologically-speaking, it's going to be as tough a behaviour to change as any other addiction. Yikes! Who knew I was an addict?

Through the convoluted illogic of childhood, I came away with a stay-under-the-radar, keep-the-expectations-low, you-can-feel-valued-if-everyone-is-waiting-for-you kind of thought process. I know that I am better than that; I know I want to be/act better than that, but it's actually quite difficult. Wanting to be an "on-time" person is not going to be enough. Having ambivalent feelings about punctuality will make it that much more challenging, too.

Tomorrow morning is a big test- can I make it to work on time? I sure hope so. I'll need to stay away from the computer, and all other time-sucking diversions. I'll need to stay on target, and keep the kids on task. I'll need to applaud all that I do accomplish and be gentle with all that I do not acheive. Cross your fingers for me that I can do what needs doing to become this grown-up person, and that the little person inside me feels safe enough and cared for enough on the journey so as not to sabotage the process.

Isolation

The rest of them are sitting outside. The children are screaming and laughing. There are scooters and skateboards and sprinklers in use. I sit alone, with my computer, inside, listening. I feel so un-connected. It's probably a choice at some level. I feel like an outsider, perhaps even a little rejected. I no longer fit the norm. It was fine while LH was alive. It was fine while I was a grieving widow. Now that I have aspirations outside this community, I am a misfit.

What do I want?

I would love to be with my Sweetie- he's otherwise occupied. If we had our house together, would I feel less empty and alone? Would my misfit status go with me? If it's a feeling, more than a status, then moving away from the harpies will make no difference. If my emptiness is about grief, then when I live with my Sweetie, I will still feel empty.

So, what do I want?

To feel valued, fulfilled, loved, important. To be content, peaceful, loving, purposeful. I have much to do. I am paralysed. I am so close to being all I want to be, but I am miles from doing all I want to do.

I have often wondered whether waiting for the motivation to act and change and do is wise. If I were to act and change and do FIRST, and assess the feelings subsequently, I'd have good results. I know this, but this is insufficient motivation. It would be so simple to leave my computer, my self-created isolation, my blog and my head, and get into my life, play with my kids, socialize with my neighbours- simple, but not easy. Inside, I am still a bereft little girl, hurting from her awkward childhood and her traumatic widowing. It's hard to do and be all of those grown-up things, when I feel so little and so hurt.

Grief underlines the disconnect between inner feelings and outer actions; grief is belittling and diminishing. I am grieving. I would like to feel less little. I'm glad to be seeing the therapist tomorrow. I hope for more peace and contentment soon.

Anxiety makes me crabby.

I've been cruising the blogs- there are some gooood writers out there! These women (primarily) write with humour and intelligence. On the YWBB, there are also some very good writers. There are also some whose spelling and grammar is atrocious. Some of these folks are teachers, or have post-secondary degrees. How the heck do such educated folks consistently use "your" for "you're" and "than" for "then"? This is clearly a pet peeve of mine.


Solo parenting is a crappy deal. I don't have the energy to deal with my son, nor the patience to deal with my daughter. The constant demands are getting under my skin big-time, tonight. I'm really tired: of living in two separate households from my sweetie; from insufficient sleep, perhaps related to thinking about housing. I don't understand how, after spending the bulk of the day with sweetie, I can be so frazzled when on my own with the kids at the end of the day. I want to find a house for us all NOW!


I'm going into work tomorrow: my first scheduled shift in 8 weeks. I'm anxious. It's just a staff meeting they want me for, as there will be some training on new equipment and systems. Why does this feel like such a big deal? I'm worried about being on time, but since the start time is 11am, I should have no trouble. Really, I need to shrug this off a little, or I could well have a crappy night, a stressed-out morning and end up taking it out on the kids. Let it go, girl, let it be.

Suppertime, and another fiasco.

Syd is apparently not eating enough, or not the "right" things. The lecture afterwards was peppered with "I know you don't think this is right or true, and I know you don't agree with me. I was brought up very differently, and I've changed since then, and I’ve even changed since when you grew up, and I'm not pushy or directive anymore...." (Could have fooled me!) For the second time recently, I pushed back a little. Said "I don't HAVE to agree with you".

Syd wanted to wear her bike helmet in the bath; She says no. "Why the hell not???" I wonder, but I can't get a word in edgewise. She says to me, "You may not agree with Me about supper, but you'd better agree with Me about the helmet..."

I went in the bath with Syd (sans helmet), and She did dishes. She was sulky. I was petulant. Got to thinking: don't want to spend the rest of Her holiday resenting Her presence and wanting Her to go home- no good for anyone. Gonna have to find a way to get along. Thanked Her for supper and dishes- seemed better. Will try to have some holiday time: do good, fun stuff, probably without kids, cause they seem to be a trigger point at the moment.

Why can't I protect myself?

OMG, She drives me to tears- She is so insulting sometimes; no wonder I am so damaged. She tries to do it to my kids, too, and my first response is to curl up and avoid- stay under the radar. What kind of mum am I that I don't immediately jump in and help my kids?

I did jump in after a bit recently- She was shaming Sam, and I hated it, and eventually, I told Her to stop. Sam was pretty bouncy a little after that, which made me feel like there was hope. She tries so hard to control everything and everyone, and I don't stand up to Her and I think I might need to, for my own well-being, and that of my kids and even my marriage (not that I’m married).

I don't remember being shamed as a child, but I think that was Her primary way of correction- at least it is now. She drinks so much, too. Almost looks as though She needs too. I don't drink at all, hate it in fact. Wonder whether that's no accident.

When’s the next attack coming? I so dislike this living in fear, in my own home. My adrenaline is up, and my “flight or fight” runs deep and strong, and I know which one I choose. Duck! Escape! The computer is one escape. So is bed. A man has been an escape too many times. Enough!

I am so very tired. Is the tiredness an escape? I want to have a good cry, and a cuddle and to feel safe. I want my own home, where no-one can get me. I can see that that has to come from within; that it's an internal process. I can see that there is sooo much self-discovery and sooo much work to be done. I need to muster the resources to fight back, make myself home, be a "fighter" not a "flighter". I need to do this with my mornings and with my work, too.

Has the grief reduced my ability to fight? I’m having trouble finding the energy at the moment. I need to be gentle with myself. I need a hug- gotta be virtual at the moment, I guess. Maybe a Pentax hug will help.

Sleep, and musical beds

Sam will only sleep with someone, preferably me. Syd will resist going to sleep, and may wake her brother with her thrashing if they are together. Pentax will sleep with Sam, but not necessarily all night, and he has a knack for walking on whichever child is on the verge of sleep, thus arousing everyone. Claudia occasionally chooses the family bed; she's an under-the-covers kind of cat, or perhaps my pillow will do. Syd's an over-the-covers kind of girl, in the middle of the bed. With just the five of us (2 cats, 2 kids, and me), we can usually manage. When Sweetie sleeps over, I need to put my kids to bed someplace other than my bed, which is fine when the guest bed is unoccupied, but was a challenge during my mother's recent visit. Also a challenge was the critique of bedtime routines, or lack thereof. At least Sweetie is a quiet sleeper, unlike LH, who was a snorer. One day, I'll sleep alone, and be quietly peaceful, and very lonely. Maybe it's time to be thankful for the chaos of a bed full of warm snugglers...

Stepping Out

It's late... or early, depending on how much sleep I'll get before the day starts. The insomnia hasn't been too bad lately, but here I am, middle of the night, alone with my computer. I'm not sure what it is that keeps me awake; it might be a too-crowded bed, or the deafening silence of my own isolation.

I’m not truly isolated. I have children I love intensely; I love and am thoroughly loved by a very sweet man. It’s just that I am, as we all are, alone. The grief is, no doubt, what accentuates this feeling. I have a large emptiness, a hollowness that all widows experience, I suspect. Does the emptiness diminish as we cover the miles between death and our “new normal”? I hope so.

What does it take to lessen the emptiness? It’s not just time. It must be tears, and (dammit) exercise, and consciousness and living in the moment, and sleep, and basic self-care. It must also be acceptance and rage and guilt and despair and self-loathing and therapy. It will take sunshine and laughter and moments of transcendent joy.

The grief may always be with me. I expect to “experience temporary periods of acute grief long after the death.” I also know that “a course of mourning does not decline linearly with time.” What I do not yet know is when the grief will not be a defining characteristic of my life, but rather, a thin slice of the pie that makes up the whole of me. What I do know is that it will happen, is already happening….

From Charlotte’s Web:
Fragile and magical shadows

Silently start to appear

Lovely and lyrical

Silvery miracle

Charlotte's web


Sometimes when somebody loves you

Miracles somehow appear

And there in the warp and the woof is the proof of it

Charlotte's web