My tongue is in my hand…

I was raised in a house that came in on wheels

Posted on: December 10, 2008

What to eat when you get home from school at night and have nothing meal worthy that doesn’t require way too much effort? Wine and cheese! Now, before you get an impression of me that may not be accurate, you should know this is twist top wine ($4.49 stuff again) and good old Food Lion brand cheddar. Followed by pizza rolls and a fudge round. So there.

I got a text from my husband tonight asking where Natalie’s pull ups are ( I had moved them over the weekend). I don’t have service in class so I didn’t get it till about 30 min after he sent it. I called after class to make sure he found them (he hadn’t). I told him where they were. He said he would be so glad when my class was over. I said grow the fuck up. Too bad I said it after he hung up. By the way, she was still not wearing a pull up when I got home. Though she was bathed, unlike last week, so that’s something. I am 99% sure he won’t read this because he never read the poetry blog I had on myspace (which he has an account with) and I asked him if he had gone to my new poetry blog and he said “what, you have a new blog?”  So yea.  And I’ve had this blog for months.

I’m 3 glasses of wine in. I haven’t had time to myself since sometime last week. It drives me insane. I need hours at a time.

I don’t know what to do about school. I love school. I love going to class. I love discussions. I love learning.  I love the people I was in class with this semester, and the professor. I just don’t know if I can do the work. I mean, I know I am capable, I just don’t know if I can do the work considering everything else. I was walking to my car tonight and I just kept thinking how I don’t want to give this up.  I know I could just take writing classes at CP if that’s all I wanted, but I think I really want more. It’s just not fair to the professors or my dad (who is paying for this) if I’m not going to be able to do the work outside of class.  It doesn’t help that I had to make such little out of class effort in high school and undergrad. My mom said that things were too easy for me in the past, and even though I didn’t think so, maybe they were.

I filled out and turned in an internal application today to move up at work. I hope this eases some things, but I know for a while it won’t, for a while it will be crazier.

I am so thankful for so many things. I am trying to just not give a shit about the rest. It’s easy right now, but it’s hard in the morning. Like my body is used to waking up with knots and hiding in the covers. Meanwhile my little sweetheart is telling me she’s hungry and that “it’s goodmorningtime!”. Sometimes I think I am not a good mom at all and she would really be better off with someone else, but then I think of what I would tell someone I work with if they said that and I would say that maybe she would be best with you if you work on being the best you can, that your love is irreplaceable.

I have yet to decide if this job has saved me thousands of therapy sessions or set me up for thousands. Pretty sure it’s saved me, but I’m not there yet. Is anybody? Ever? Not really. There’s always something. And that’s okay. But how do you get to the place where you start thinking you are living and you aren’t “in recovery” or  “sick” or just generally messed up?  Or is it like addiction, where you are always in recovery?

Isn’t everybody part of one place or the other, in some way? No one gets out of this untouched, unmarked, even if the marks aren’t visible to everyone else. Our lives and our landscapes are changed all the time. And sometimes that really throws us. Sometimes that breaks us. And it’s okay to be broken. I really believe that, because I am so broken all the time. And the only time I thought I wasn’t broken was the time I was most broken but too numb to know.  Broken is open and open is able so the broken are able. But this is part of something bigger, something our world of systems and institutions neither recognizes or honors. We are supposed to be prepared and right and we are supposed to subscribe to and play these games that go along with these systems and institutions. We are supposed to look over the rule books and act accordingly. And more and more, I can’t. I just want to live. I just don’t care about so much of that stuff. I just can’t even make myself.

It’s a certain kind of high, not caring. Sometimes I don’t even get it – the world. And I wake up so confused and don’t know what I’m supposed to do between what I feel is best and necessary and right and what I’m told is expected of me and necessary. I said before that sometimes every act of “normal” life feels like treason against my spirit and it still does…sometimes I just don’ t understand how to live in this world. And really, if it weren’t for Natalie, I would check out of this place, I would just live in and out of  my head.

But she deserves my presence. So how do I honor my daughter, my self, my faith, my community of family, friends, colleagues, fellow citizens, etc simultaneously? Or is just that something’s always going to get the short end of the stick?

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