Posted by: Becca on: December 17, 2009
I was driving home, down a dirt road with my daughter when I ran into so much snow on the road that my car stopped moving. I panicked and then got it moving again. Farther down the road it spun and flipped into a ditch. I then got out and pushed it back up on the road. I drove around a corner and there was no more snow and my mom was at home cleaning the porch. I later told a friend about lifting the car and we laughed.
http://www.mydreamvisions.com/dreamdictionary/analysis.php
Posted by: Becca on: December 17, 2009
I had cancer, but was hiding it from everyone
http://www.mydreamvisions.com/dreamdictionary/analysis.php
Posted by: Becca on: December 17, 2009
Last night was strange, in regards to my previous post. I’ve heard people talk about releasing things into the universe (or to God) and having quick, clear answers appear. Last night, I actually said some things I really thought instead of what I knew would make everything okay, and I know writing it out first is what empowered me to say it. How can I write it out, post it on the internet and still fall back into my old pattern that destroys me? I couldn’t. And it felt awesome, incredible, empowering. And sad. Because it’s not all about me, so there was sadness in it. And maybe some guilt, that I couldn’t do this before, that I didn’t know myself well enough, didn’t trust myself well enough all along to voice my words, my thoughts, my honesty.
At first, I thought, is this it? It’s this easy? And then I realized that of course it wasn’t. This was warm up, a practice round. It’s not there yet. And that frustrates me and frightens me and throws me off, but it’s gonna be okay. I’m out of whack, particularly after last night, but it’s okay. I’m going to keep believing. I’m going to keep believing that God doesn’t intend for me to settle, to compensate, to reconcile. I believe in everything I’ve got in me…it’s going to be great. At some point. Again, it’s the here to there that I don’t know about, that I have to let go of. And I know, of course, that this is part of the point, the journey is precious, purposeful. The wait, the frustration, the question is still there-
“Do you trust me child? Do you really? Then let go. This is not in your hands. Just trust. Just accept. Just believe. Allow for time. Be open. Be open. And believe. No matter what- no matter what hurts, no matter what you don’t understand, no matter what scares you, don’t give up believing- don’t. Just believe. That’s really all you have to do. Everything else will come, I promise, child, I promise.”
I’m trying. I don’t want to do this on my own. None of it. I don’t understand, but I believe.
Posted by: Becca on: December 16, 2009
I’m in this place again where I keep thinking “I don’t think I can do this anymore”, but I’m not quite sure what “this” is. Is it everything? Is it work? Is it home? Is it life?
Work is work. It changes. Some things I’m good at, some things I struggle with…but it’s do able. It’s not work that I can’t do anymore. Work suffers sometimes, while I try to manage my life, but work is work. It’s good work. It’s work I’m glad to be doing. So it’s not work. Not specifically.
It’s home. I know it is. I hate going home. It’s not home. It’s where I live, it’s who I live with, it’s how it is there. I suffocate. I really can’t stand playing family and house. I hate knowing everyday I have to come home and play that role. I hate thinking about making dinner, buying groceries. I don’t care. I don’t care about decorating shit or about the yard or about the floor or about making sure the laundry is done and put up and the dishes are out of the sink. I just don’t care. And it’s not that I’m lazy, as a family member suggested. It’s that I DON’T CARE. I DO NOT CARE. IT IS NOT IMPORTANT TO ME. Why is that so hard to understand? Just because I’m female, I’m a wife, a mother…that doesn’t mean I give a shit about that stuff. It doesn’t mean I want a certain kind of life. Being a mom changes some perspectives, some priorities, but it doesn’t change who I am. All those internal things that made me up before I was a mom still make me up now. I have more things than before, because of motherhood- not less.
This doesn’t mean that if I weren’t under some form of obligation to do some of these things due to the set up I’ve got myself into that I wouldn’t do them. Of course I would still buy groceries and feed myself and my child and wash clothes and clean the bathroom and wash dishes. But I would do it how I do it. In my time, in a way that is comfortable to me. And that may very well mean we eat pasta for 3 days straight and leave clothes sitting on the dryer all week long. Who gives a fuck? That doesn’t make me a bad person or a bad mom, not to me. But I’m not the only person in the picture, am I?
Something’s going to have to happen soon with our financial situation Everything is getting later and later and our life lines are drying up. Even if/when the other person in the house is bringing an income in again, somethings are just so far gone. It’s not like I’ve had a choice. Managing our finances for 16 months of one income when we had two and unemployment where we are consistently more than 1,000 dollars short every month…some people just don’t get paid. And everyone gets paid late. And money is begged off of family members. And credit is maxed, savings is drained. But do we still have our house, car, utilities, phone, tv, internet, clothes, food…yes. Thanks to God and generous family and in some part, me, right? I run this shit. This is one of the things I just about can’t do any more. I’m ready to give up. Whatever that means…Bankruptcy? I don’t know. I just about do not care. I’m so done.
I want to start over. I know so much more now than I did when I let myself go down this road. I want to start over with what I have within me now. But I’m scared. Not so much for myself, but for my child. There is a lot of manipulative destructiveness and blind anger that resides here. I don’t want to be the one to unleash it. I don’t want my child damaged by it. I also, don’t want to live a life I don’t want. I won’t do that. I already decided that. I just don’t know how to get from here to there.
I’ve dissected the past, I’ve imagined the future, I’ve examined my self and I know that what matters is this- this doesn’t fit, this doesn’t work for me, and honestly, I don’t believe it will, I don’t believe it can. I don’t think I should have to be different, should have to adjust myself to make something work – I don’t think anyone should. It works or it doesn’t. Not that everything has to be perfect, or easy, but it shouldn’t be a job. It shouldn’t be work. It shouldn’t be constant sacrifice of a person to meet another person’s standards or needs. I don’t want that. I can’t do that. I’m not okay with that. I don’t think that in itself means anything bad, it just is. It just is. But that isn’t really that simple.
I’m afraid (and relieved?) that I think this is out of my hands. I think I have to keep my mind right and wait. I think. Or I will be pushed. I don’t know, I’m not clear on this yet…I’m trying to listen. God, I’m trying to listen. I’m petitioning these weights on my heart. I’m asking for your help. I have throughly made mistakes, set you and my belief aside, let someone else take the lead. I am so so sorry. I understand your forgiveness. Please help me get to the life you have in mind for me, the one that does work for me, that does fit me. I love you. I love you. I love you. Thank you for never forsaking me, for holding my heart, for open arms, for healing, for every little moment you gift me with your presence, your assurance, your guidance, I don’t want to do this without you again. I believe.
The only thing that makes sense right now is art and faith. I just want to immerse myself in these things and not have to come up, not have to come back. I know to really appreciate either though, you have to go back and forth, you have to step away and apply creativity and belief to daily life. I don’t feel like I can ever function enough…I’m just tired. Really tired. And foggy.
I’m laying in belief Lord, I’m hiding in hope. I’m moving in love, in the art of it all, the beauty. Lead, guide, bless. Please.
Posted by: Becca on: December 5, 2009
I’m typing this too early in the morning considering the fact that I didn’t get home last night til 3am…but Natalie’s not here and Jason’s still in bed, so it’s my best bet for a moment to myself today…
I went and saw Harvard last night. I was wanting to explain something about this, but my brain is so damn foggy right now. Ever since the first time one of my guy friends picked up a guitar and played a line of a song for me I was hooked on hearing people I know make music.
So, through the years I try to keep track of the people I know who are making music…I always feel more creatively inspired by people I know being creative than by anything else. I was so envious last night though. Envious of musicians in general, really. Envious of the connections people have to one another, creatively as a large group…not to say I didn’t enjoy the show, because I really did. I always do. All the people in one spot right up near the stage with the music shaking everything, I love it. It’s a beautiful high.
It’s always hard for me after things like that though, to come back to the day to day. I have a really hard time with some things in my day to day right now. I feel like I can’t be everything and I just want to give into the pull…it’s just not that easy…and really, I don’t know that there’s any place for me at all.
Maybe not that so much, because there’s actually always a place, everywhere…it just seems like I choose to stand right on the edge of everything. But that’s what I choose…Like I said, it’s far to early for me to be writing coherently. I’m gonna have to follow up on this later.
I’m writing this to remind myself what I’m doing, because my head is all over the place right now. I’m being still and knowing that God is God. I’m forgetting the world. I’m following my spirit over my mind. I’m believing in the rainbow fragments and quiet rushes and solid embraces and I am not listening to the noise around me, I am being quiet to hear what’s within me. I am trusting love over all else. In case I forget…
Posted by: Becca on: November 28, 2009
I know an increasing amount of people arguing against the commercialization of Christmas (besides Charlie Brown, of course). And I agree. In many ways, we have turned a day set aside to celebrate the birth (and subsequent life) of Jesus Christ, earthly God incarnate, something that could (should?) be a holy day for Christians into something…else.
It’s a whole month of family gatherings, decorations, parties, programs, events, fundraisers, special church services, Santa Claus movies, and of course, gift exchanging. So, I get that. But here’s the thing- I think, if we let it, it can be good for us.
Christmas is what you make it in your life, what you let it be, what you insist it be. Being cynical, bitter, rejecting, or averse to other’s implementation of Christmas really doesn’t benefit you (or anyone else) at all. If you don’t like how other’s utilize this time of the year, then don’t engage. But think about some of the idealogic cornerstones (no matter how far many deviate from them) of the Christmas season: faith, hope, love, joy, generousity. Make those things a part of your daily life and then take a month at the end of the year to kick it up a notch and really bask in it, really celebrate it the whole month.Those around you can benefit from this and may possibly join in- and I can’t think of a better way to keep Christ in Christmas.
Posted by: Becca on: November 19, 2009
I cycle through depressive states regarding writing. Regarding the point of it. I always come back to this- the point of it is for me to cope. I know that. (but it doesn’t change my moodiness about the whole thing) It is, for as long as I remember, how I cope. The person I talk to to work things out in my head is myself, through writing. It’s a big part of a lot of growth and movement personally, spiritually.
At the same time, I address all the world around me, through writing, whether they read it or not. But that’s where the depressing part comes in, particularly with poetry. No one really gives a shit about poetry, except maybe, for poets. But I don’t even really like reading other people’s poetry, so how can I think anyone wants to read mine? Maybe it’s like how some musicians can’t stomach certain “mass manufactured” music. But I am not, as an artist, a musician, so I don’t see it and can still enjoy it…
I’m digressing. The poetry thing…it’s just so pointless. Except when it’s not. When a poem is pressing it’s way out of my pores, it matters so much. But then…what? There are journals and contests and other avenues to share poems and possibly be recognized as a talented writer, but it’s so annoying because they care so much about poetic stuff and I just write. I write and write and write. And yes, I have some dedicated persons who consistently lift me up and assure me that my writing matters to them…why can’t that be enough??
I feel like I’m hungry for something that I’m not even sure I want. I don’t crave a million people telling me my poems matter. I just want this select group that quite obviously just does not care. Why? Why is that?
That’s part of the reason I started the poetry art collaborative experiment, to try and do something with the poetry, to try and connect it to others (and maybe find that I don’t need that certain group… maybe I could make my own group…a group that does something with the poetry besides tell me it’s “good”, which is nice and I appreciate, but it leaves me hungering for more…). But that’s been quite a slow (discouraging) start. I’ m on hiatus from it (although I doubt anyone’s noticed!) and I don’t want to be a quitter so early into the project, but it seems a bit silly to keep at it.
Oh well, I have a couple more weeks, my mood will quite possibly be more positive then.
I just want my poetry to be part of something, like music is. You can write a song that becomes part of the world, part of society, part of memories and conversations…it’s a backdrop for a million different moments…what the hell does a poem do? Not a damn thing really. So annoying. If I weren’t so innately a poet, I would just stop. But I can’t. It’s part of me, if nothing else.
Posted by: Becca on: November 17, 2009
So, I have been minimally participating in the two challenges I posted about prior to this post. This month has not been as conducive to writing time as I’d hoped it would be. I have written some poems and started a novel. Barely started, but started. This is actually a pretty big deal for me, since I haven’t even wanted to start a novel, had any characters, ideas, outline, or research prior to Nov 1st when I wrote the first 1,542 words. Now, it’s brewing in my head, and though I won’t meet the nanowrimo challenge, it’s got me started on a good thing. I’m not sure what I’ll do about the PAD challenge. I can most likely complete it…and I suppose I’ll put together a chapbook? May as well do this…I’ve got to do something with my poems and this would be a good experience.
In other news…I turned 26 a couple of weeks ago, and have had a good two weekends of friends and family and celebrations.
In sad and silly news, book club had a rift, resulting in one member leaving to a new book club. The member leaving happens to be my dearest friend in the group, so I will join her, and stay in old book club as well. Make new friends and keep the old (just like the girl scout song).
Work life is…ever changing. I’m just holding on and doing what I do – help people as best I can.
Money is…short. I’m constantly floating payments around, robbing from peter to pay paul, having to tell people I do not know whenI can pay them, and just not opening the bills I know good and well we can’t pay, while trying to still live a fairly joyful life and indulge in little things because that’s what you do when you’re poor. You don’t pay a bill on time and you go out to eat and buy a shirt because damn it, you want to and there’s no other way to do it.
I had to use money we saved for Christmas and money I got for my birthday to fix my car. Again. And used the rest of my b-day money to get our phones turned back on. My dad and mother in law made me promise I’d use the money on myself, and technically, I did.
Home life is…quite honestly driving me insane. IN SANE. As in, I consistently feel as if I am losing my sanity. I feel as if it is wrong to go into it much more than that, but, should I lose my sanity, all the ridiculous details may spill themselves on a drunken blogging rage one night.
My family life outside of the home is really not much better. My dad claimed he was going have to pretend he only has one daughter (not me) after a very stupid and pointless fight about the holidays and in-laws. After about two weeks and a good fight complete with me hurling f-bombs in front of my parents (at my dad), and my dad claiming he will just not celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas anymore, the problem resolved itself with my sister in law’s work schedule, at least for Thanksgiving. My dad then bought me a very nice watch and necklace for my birthday, along with cash, and bulbs of my grandmother’s favorite flower to plant in my flower bed. He is now torturing my sister on a daily basis. I am apparently back in the family? We are watching Flashforward together this week, so I guess so.
Socially though, my life rocks. So, that’s something.
My library items are about 20 days overdue, so that does not rock. That didn’t really fit into any other categories, I thought I’d just like to note that.
My dog is super cute and does not drive me crazy though, because he’s just so damn cute and fluffy. Even when he uses the bathroom in the house.
Natalie on the other hand, has been trying my nerves severely, but then I feel like a really shitty mom for not being able to handle it and being short with her – like all the time.
There’s so much more (there always is), but I’m done for now.
