Don't Count Your Chickens...

I’ve got blisters on my fingers from learning chords on the guitar, darker hair cause I discovered some new grays and a ball of ugly emotion right in my core. I’m working hard to release that ball before it wins the whole day. My husband got the call yesterday that his deployment got pushed back from March to July. Just like that. How many things were riding on that initial March date? How many decisions were made based on that March date? How many sacrifices did that March date require of me? It just serves as a reminder that no matter what, I cannot live this military lifestyle any longer. It is not in my nature to play second fiddle. It is not acceptable to know that my plans, no matter the importance, are not considered by those who hand out the orders. Ah well, life doesn’t play by rules when handing out the orders or consider everybody’s plans so I need to button it.

I went to see ‘Crazy Heart’ on Sunday night. Great movie, great sound track. I had some time to kill before the movie started so I decided to do a little work. I write an entertainment blog for a local glossy and basically get paid to visit bars and restaurants where I am given entrees and drinks and then write a review on the ambience, cuisine, crowd etc… They have me on a project while I’m here promoting a city-wide cocktail competition that will be featured in their May food and wine issue. I’ll get to pick the top ten winners and there will be a photographer to chronicle my sipping escapades. So I decided to pop into a few bars to drop off my card and recruit for participants. The first place I stopped at is a biker bar and as soon as I pulled into the parking lot about 14 bikers pull up in their colors. There were about 12 more already in the small bar when I walked in and it occurred to me that some one raised differently from myself might not have been as comfortable sauntering into this particular atmosphere. Alone. But hell I’m from NH and grew up around burly, nasty looking men in denim and leather so I can hold my own and at the very least appear confident. Second place I visited is what I like to call your basic, square bar. Small and square with one window and the light from one door. Old men with their cans of beer snuggled in their own koozies they brought from home. Coupla drunk Mexican men walk in trying to act sober enough to get some beers.. A pool table is squeezed in one corner and the players are good naturedly vying with other patrons for space to shoot. And there’s this great band playing all my favorite classic rock tunes so I have to stay for a beer. The band is comprised mostly of middle-aged men but the bassist is some young stud in sunglasses. They’ve got talent and a hell of a lot of love for these old tunes and I quite enjoyed myself. The really, really old man to my right identified himself as ‘Peanut’ and a manager of the bar. He had a koozy full and one on ice in his little beer bucket in front of him at the bar. There was a constant variety of patrons coming up and buying him a beer so that little bucket always had one chilling. Then one of the patrons was nice enough to replenish my beer as well as Peanuts’. His name was Bill and Bill is a skydiver. Bill seems to eat, drink and sleep skydiving. Bill talked to me about skydiving for a long time. A long time.

Now that’s the kind of review I wish I could write but the magazine is pre-tty conservative so my blogs are basically like advertisements for the places. Today is a crappy, rainy day. Even the kitties are choosing to sleep away the gloomy hours. There’s the occasional flash of red or blue in our yard of a cardinal or bluebird. I can hear the rain dripping on the flower boxes outside and our wind chimes are working overtime. I can get through today, hopefully with some grace and positivity and tomorrow I am attending women’s group for dinner and a break dancing competition in Raleigh. I’ll spend the night with my friend T, have coffee in the morning and take my time instead of rushing back like I usually do. That will recharge me enough so that I can resume chugging along towards god know what. But hey- I got to rub elbows with an ancient man named Peanut, drink some beers, eat some pretzels, listen to a live version of ‘Sharp Dressed Man’ and now possess a walking wealth of information about skydiving. Life ain’t all that bad.

Coming in Last

Well, as much as I’m tempted, I can’t really glamorize where I’ve been as of late. I am faltering and not feeling strong this week. I am scared of how hard life will be when I’m on my own, a single mother of two children with no college education and no savings. I’m overwhelmed with how much there is to do here in this house and by how much of it is falling on just me. My husband is gone all this week and then home for a few weeks before shipping off to Afghanistan for six months. I will need to have this house in tip top shape and be all moved out by April 1. I’m searching Craig’s list every day but of course unable to view any of the apartments as I am many States away. Where and how everything will fall together is so unclear and all this uncertainty is taking a heavy toll on my mental well-being. I am not able to go to yoga which my body and mind are screaming for, I am binging nearly every night on Cheez-its, chocolate chip cookies, ice cream etc…. I even bought Cool-Whip the other day. I hate Cool-Whip!!! I am not spending quality time with the kids aside from bed time, I am short tempered with them and totally unequipped for this awful angry phase that Everett is going through. I can barely keep myself in check and I have this screaming, hateful 5 1/2 year old stomping around the house all day. I’m desperately unhappy right now. If I just had one person to help me every day, this would feel manageable. Looking around my room right now makes me want to crawl under my covers- there’s so much shit to deal with and add to that five more rooms left to deal with!!! My brain tends to shut down and isn’t inclined towards organization.

My husband and I have fallen into a strange existence together. Upon arriving home I was caught off guard by a great sexual desire that arose in me. Thus when he made the first move I was more than agreeable. We made love twice in one night and let me tell you: that ain’t happened since before I got pregnant the first time. I sincerely wanted to hold him and to be held. We watched movies together and snuggled with arms, legs and fingers entwined. For two days this stuck and then there was some small spat and the bubble was popped. Now I’m back to being disappointed at things he hasn’t done and responsibilities he’s not on top of. The sex drive is back to where ever it’s been all these years. After two months of living in near isolation at my nana’s, being totally broke and grieving the loss of this marriage and friendship, I really needed to be held and he’s been my rock and safe haven for so long; he’s a good lover and knows my body and the way we fit best. I do not think that I would have been able to feel desire if there were not an impending separation. Just driving up to the house took some wind out of my sails because of all the unhappiness, disorganization and stalemate existence that it represents.

Now a little joy is creeping into my heart because I am reminded of the fuller life in NH that awaits my arrival. I will have friends for dinner! I can have birthday parties for the kids! I can call up dozens of people on any given night and say, “Hey want to go see some kick ass blue grass tonight?”

This morning my breath was so awful that I wondered how I could ever have another lover. Am I going to have to wake up at 3am to brush my teeth again so when he rolls over at 7 he’s not bowled out of bed? Do I have to go back to agonizing when I unexpectedly have to take a shit at his house? What about broccoli farts and ass zits? Oh my god. I’m terrified. This is why women stay in unhappy relationships! I am destined to be a pariah in the dating scene…. Eff it. I learned everything I need to know when I was eleven. Wink wink.

**************************Phone call with N *****************************

You can’t hear it but I just let out an audible sigh of release. N gave me a much needed reminder that I am only a human mama and I am doing the best I can under difficult circumstances and it won’t last FOREVER! So what if the kids watch too many movies, so what if I don’t go for a walk everyday, so what if I can’t give everybody my best this month. I have to get through this part and then through the next part and then life will start to resemble something more peaceful with a routine and a rhythm and then I can worry about reaching super mom status. Man was I lost in that self-deprecating sea.

There have been some humorous moments in the past few days that should not go un noted. My cat Zoot, who is going on 10, suffered a most undignified failing of her bodily functions the other night. Whilst snuggling in bed I glanced over to see flecks of diarrhea on the sheet next to my shoulder that had not been there seconds before. My glance immediately zeroed in on Zoot’s bum and confirmed the source. Poor Zoot had sharted and was completely oblivious to the fact. I reached for a tissue to wipe the small amount on her bum before she could sit on my duvet and it wasn’t until I began cleaning her did she catch a waft and investigate. Skip ahead two days and I am on the phone with my father. My nose begins to run and I reach for a tissue that had fallen between the bed and my nightstand. As soon as my snot wetted the tissue the substance already residing there was revived and identified itself as- you guessed it- cat diarrhea. This reminds me of the only segment of the “Jeff Foxworthy Show” worth remembering- ‘Tell me that don’t stank.’

Ok- time to get out of my bathrobe and see what the little heathens have been up to downstairs. Such a huge part of me doesn’t want to know….

Doing the Black Dog Jig

If ever I needed a patron saint of stressed out women with two kids trying to leave the state so she can pack up her house and finalize a separation, but can’t due to multiple snow storms; I do now!!!! I have spent the past few days storing my things away neatly here to please my mom, cleaning up, packing what we’ll bring with us to NC, finalizing travel plans and I’m literally on the road this morning when our accommodation plans fall through. So I turned the car around and here I am at my Nana’s once again. At least it’s clean. But then all the kids toys are packed away and I have no wine!! Ok… I am not going to let the negativity win…. we may have less than two hundred dollars in the bank right now but I can’t sink! I’m trying to change my patterns. My inclination, with depression, is to passively allow myself to go with it, to float slowly down and down, to feel it as completely and thoroughly as possible. It could take hours or days for it to cycle through and while I’m in ‘The Black Dog’s’ clutches I may be lethargic, anxiety ridden, short tempered, self-conscious, or all of the above. I definitely tend to be more creative when I’m full of sorrow. I’m starting to realize that I cannot continue this pattern, that it is very selfish of me to allow myself to descend so easily. I shouldn’t expect my children to adapt to this or to fend for themselves while I’m unable to deal. This is not the history I want written in their future journals or therapy sessions. I know that depression is a part of me and will never cease to be an issue but I can fight it when I feel it coming on! This morning in the car I forced myself to smile instead of cussing out the world and my chest felt less tight almost immediately. I will always feel things deeply and empathetically but I don’t have to own all the sadness in the world. And when it comes to love and attraction, I don’t have to be a moth, distracted from its course by every shiny light. Now that I’m getting ‘freedom’ from my marriage I feel a little giddy, unstable and untrusting of my sensibilities. I need a sexy sequined pair of blinders to keep me on task! I already have exemplified how terrible I am at playing hard to get (J) and am in danger of compromising my inner guide with some one else I haven’t introduced yet. I’ll call him Doc, which is how I addressed him seven years ago when I worked for him. He has been a great comfort to me this past month; he’s made me laugh, taken me to dinner and has been adjusting the kids and I for free which is a tremendous gift. He also is very interested in me romantically which I can’t fully reciprocate. I’ll admit that when we first kissed the night we went to dinner, I was totally living out a fantasy I’d had when I worked for him but passionately, it ended there for me. We recently went to his house for pizza and a movie (he has a son two years older than mine) and when the kids were out of the room he’d rub my back or play with my hair and we kissed a few times. Honestly, it felt nice to sink back into some ones chest, to feel that strength and steadiness. It was a relief! It was a reprieve from the loneliness of my days and the stress of holding it all together for the kids and I. But I have to be so careful not to allow this to go beyond what I want and what I can give. I don’t want to get myself right into another situation where I can’t give a man what he wants! My economy can’t handle another deficit.
The good (?) news is that my sexuality is alive and kicking again. There was some down and dirty blues playing on the radio last night and my thoughts went to J (am I crazy or what?). This was some hair pullin’ hip grindin’ blues and that’s exactly what was going on in my mind. At least I know that my body isn’t dead but does it have to respond to some guy all the way in Northern California who has a girlfriend?! I totally jumped the gun with J by saying in an email that ‘the odds are once again stacked against us’. Which implies that he was even contemplating an ‘us’. We’ve emailed some more but he has yet to respond to that particular one. True to my old form I am incapable of being appropriately disinterested and always put myself in a vulnerable position before I’ve even tested the ground. But as I was saying to my friend N this morning, I have never been good at it, I have zero interest in aspiring to be good at it and if a man can’t or won’t appreciate this quality in me then eff it! (The next time I’m curled under the kitchen table with a bottle of whiskey because I’ve scared off another man will you kindly remind me that I feel this way)
N gently reminded me that perhaps he doesn’t think I’ve jumped the gun at all, he could be processing, or simply not know what to say. Actually the reply he sent to that email was simply a black and white photo of a dead plant intertwined amongst barbed wire with the ocean in the back round. I sent him photos of wire cutters and a watering can. See- I’m changing my patterns! I’m not throwing that Black Dog a bone. Heel Boy!

Leave-taking

I just haven’t been able to write this past week. I am struggling to hold it all together and it feels like I am going to blow or break down but I keep on keeping on. Same old same old in a different house. I had it right the first couple weeks here, I had my little routine and I was writing nearly every day. Then I discovered that I can hop on an internet connection in the neighborhood and that routine was totally disrupted. My correspondence with J has me checking my email every half hour or less and because we’ve been poor and housebound for so long I am desperate again for the social networking of FB. I’m all off track. Over the weekend my son very nearly set himself and the house on fire (only my duvet cover burned) and that experience plummeted me into a dark funk. The next day my mom informed me that a friend of ours was diagnosed with less than two months to live because of a cancer they thought was gone. It had quietly invaded her insides and while she and her husband bought tickets to Puerto Rico, while she was cross-country skiing not two weeks ago, it was working its dark magic on her stomach. By the time she felt the pain it was too late. She and her husband have been my mother’s landlords for twenty-four years now. They live simply in a little house that he built with wood from their beautiful land. There are no electric lines running down the road and they have always used wind and solar to power the house. They’ve known me since I was eight. They found out the terrible news on Friday and she decided that while she was still with her facilities, she wants visitors. The kids and I drove to my mom’s cabin on Sunday afternoon, bundled up and walked up the dirt road. Neither my mother nor I could stop the tears and we walked silently with a comforting arm around each others waists. I thought of all the years and countless times I’d walked this road and how long it had been since I’d done it last. How far and fast we grow from people, even familiar people, when we hit puberty and gain a social life. Suddenly, in a situation like this, you are reminded how much a person means to you and how much you love them. It’s like a distilled experience, a distilled emotion because there is no longer the luxury of time stretching out indefinitely ahead of you in which you may have the opportunity to reminisce and express your love.
As we neared the little red house I prepared myself to follow her lead and I’ll admit it was a little scary waiting at the door, hoping you don’t break down in tears. Her husband opened the door and welcomed us into their warm, sunny home. There is beautiful wood through out the house, his loving craftsmanship in every detail. There is the smell of a homemade soup simmering and not an ounce of doom or gloom in the air. We pile into the sunny sitting room and when she rises to greet us I see how skinny she is, her eyes even bigger behind her glasses, but she is still beautiful in her serene way. The kids dig into the stuffed animals, unaware of any elephants in the room and we settle down with ginger tea and talk of Mongolia, where they had traveled in recent years and then more close friends arrive who have all known me since I was small. The atmosphere remained upbeat as if they were throwing a little mid-winter social instead of hosting friends who where there to say goodbye.
When the kids started to get too high maintenance I knew it was time to go and silently, as if on cue, the other guests quietly left the room when she stood to hug me. “You’re wonderful”, she said as we embraced and we held each other for a long time. I went into the other room to get a letter I had written her and as I reached for my bag I lost my composure and a sob escaped me. There was silence around me and someone lovingly rubbed my back while I took in a deep breath and struggled to compose myself. She was sitting quietly on the couch when I re-entered and I know she must have heard my cry but she showed no outward sign of it.
What I wrote in my letter to her was everything I needed and wanted to say. How much I love her, how she affected me and resides in me. She sent her husband up the driveway yesterday to deliver a card for me via my mother. What she wrote I want to keep private but she ended by saying, “ I love you too and I’m so grateful that we’ve had this opportunity to share what has always been in our hearts.”
I’ve probably lost three pounds of water weight from the tears that won’t stop leaking out and hours of sleep, laying and processing the whole thing. I think of what they lay awake at night discussing; how she wants to live her remaining days, how she wants to die, sorting out the business of death: wills, memorial, etc… I think of her husband who is being so brave and is not thinking about himself, “I’ll worry about myself later, right now this is about her.” he told my mom. They have lived just the two of them, in love, for so many years. They have a small table in their kitchen, just big enough for two.
I think it’s amazing how she is choosing to live her last days and I can’t help but wonder how I would live mine. It certainly encourages me to keep living authentically and to speak what is in my heart because we aren’t always forewarned that time is running out. Really we have so little to lose by speaking or doing what is in our hearts when compared to how much we stand to lose if we don’t.

Descent from the summit

‘I think you are the sweetest, kindest, dearest, loveliest, most thoughtful, best looking and most loveable girl in the whole world. I love you with all the strength that is in me.’
-Dean P. Stiles to Marion E. Davison, April 1945

‘What I want to convey in this note is that my thoughts have been filled with you constantly since Sunday night and that the days have seemed dreadfully long, I’ve missed you so. Already tonight I miss you voice. Somehow the day doesn’t seem complete. I wonder where you are and what you are doing. Are you thinking of me? I love to spend my waking hours each day running over and over again the things we have done together, the things you have said to me and to recall every wonderful moment you have been in my arms. I do believe I remember every little detail. Yes, I even remember that the big toe on each of your feet is relatively shorter than the one next to it.’
-Dean P. Stiles to Marion E. Davison July 1944

‘Can you keep a secret? You can? Well, I love you, sweetheart, so much in fact that these words form with my every breath. May my love for you keep you warm and close to me. I’ll be with you soon.’
-Dean P. Stiles to Marion Davison July 1944

All these love letters and twenty something years worth of birthday, anniversary, Easter and Mothers Day cards, stored away in boxes all over the house. Love. It can be so ephemeral! It can build you up and break you down in a day. I found a card sent from my Grandfather Dean to my Nana after twenty something years of marriage that read on the front- “Can we get together on this?”. When you open it up there is a picture of a bed and it’s signed, your loving and hopeful hubby. He sent it from the post office in their town to the house they shared. Weird. And sad. And damn if history doesn’t repeat itself!! My husband hasn’t had a regular sex life in years. Poor guy… Anyway, the infamous story is that when my Grandfather left my Nana, he threw a book at her that he had bought full of new sexual positions he hoped they could try. My Nana was crippled with arthritis and probably depression and my Grandfather was sexually frustrated and unhappy with the way his life had turned out. Love in all its new beginnings is so Utopian but loves’ decline is anything but idyllic.

My husband told me last night that he’s been spending time with a woman he met. Not official dates, just getting together and talking. I didn’t feel a shock or jolt of pain. I felt calm and actually happy for him. Huh. I mean that says a lot right? But I also have some excitement going on here so maybe that’s why I’m so OK with it?
This guy that I fell head over heels in love with during a summer spent in Oregon eleven years ago, recently opened a FB account just to find me. I mean this guy……… I haven’t ever really gotten over the sense that I missed out on something big with him. Total unrequited love. He, (I’ll call him J), had a girlfriend when I met him but the draw we felt towards one another was so strong that he told his girlfriend he needed to spend time with me to figure out what was going on. She gave him her blessing and I’ll always admire her for that very strong and difficult decision. We only spent time alone on two occasions and kissed with sweet longing and immense restraint. We jumped into a freezing lake and collapsed laughing and shivering on our towels. We lay on our bellies, shoulders touching and talked for hours. On the drive home that day he reached silently across the car and ran his fingers down the entire length of my arm to my fingertips. I can still remember how my arm tingled and practically burned from his touch. Then she recanted and made him choose. He chose her and rightfully so. I was devastated and spent the last three weeks crying myself to sleep and slept with some dude who was just that- some dude. At the end of my last day of work at the resort lodge, I called the bellhop service for a ride to the golf course where the car I shared with friends was parked. Who should show up to get me but J. I walked to the back of the shuttle van, the only passenger in there and sat with arms crossed in the very back. He drove me in silence for most of the way and suddenly pulled off to the side of the road practically skidding to a halt. I can’t remember if he turned to face me or if he spoke to my reflection in the rear-view mirror but he told me that he needed for me to know, with out a doubt, before I left, that the decision had been very difficult for him and that he cared for me very much. That he thought about me every day even though he couldn’t call. He delivered me to the golf course, I hugged him goodbye, flew back to Boston the next day and that was eleven years ago.

He ended up marrying her. She asked for a divorce a few years ago. Now he writes me out of the blue and our emails have that same veiled excitement that our conversations did all those years ago. The excitement that comes from wanting and finding yourself able to discuss anything and everything with a matched wit, imagination and intelligence. Then he tells me in his last email that he has a girlfriend out there that he got together with shortly after his divorce, who followed him from New Orleans to northern California. He intimates his unease at not feeling sure that she is the one he wants to marry and have children with. She wants this with him and he wonders if he is being unrealistic and selfish in holding out for that ‘mind bending’ love as he calls it. Oh man… My heart fell about three stories when I read this. He has a girlfriend. Pffffft. But then this is the shit I’ve been thinking about and writing about every day for years now, so you can only imagine the lengthy email I sent out in response.

I don’t want to be let down again. Nor do I want to be used like a sandbag on his scale so he can determine how much he loves this woman. But I also don’t want to let him slip away again if this is life yelling in my face. Maybe as we communicate more I’ll realize he’s a total dork, or he’s way into God, or he’s too straight laced for me. Or maybe I’ll just tell him to get some balls, take the reigns and come for a visit to New England.
But just as ephemeral as love can be, it can also suddenly sprout the most tenacious roots that declare permanence. It remains to be seen what will happen between J and his lover or what he wants from me. Just one more thing for me to add to the list of uncertainties that make up my present and future. This afternoon I will continue to immerse myself in the lives of my grandparents, whose future has already become their past, the last chapters already written. THERE is something I can hang my hat on-a future that I know awaits me with absolute certainty: a final chapter. Here’s to a damn good read until then!

Guess I'm Doin' Fine

The kids and I have been on self imposed exile after being exposed to a nasty virus that sent my uncles wife to the hospital with dehydration. Today is day five and even though the sun is shining I'm feeling burnt out and low on patience. My husband has come around and now wants us back to the house for the month and a half before he deploys and even though this was what I originally wanted, now I feel like it's throwing me off kilter. As painful as these past weeks have been for he and I, the pain was essential to create boundaries and new relationship definitions. I am weary and wary in the knowledge that this stay together is going to throw us right back to point A. I'm anxious to put down roots and get a rhythm going with the kids, to organize play dates and reunite with my friends around here. Instead I am picking up yet again and leaving. Ultimately it is not about me though, it is about the kids being able to see their father before he deploys and one doesn't have to expound on the importance of that, one just puts their own feelings aside and makes it happen. It also give me needed time to pack up the house, get rid of shit and clean for the showings. If we are able to find good tenants then there is a chance we might get our deposit back which considering our financial situation right now, would greatly help us. I can't remember the last time I was so broke. It hasn't been without it's benefits though. Strangely, it has been freeing. No longer a slave to guilt inducing impulsive buys and the hollowness that followed those purchases, I am finding little pleasures in the money I am saving by not shopping at Hanafords or the co-op. I am trying to make crock pot meals stretch for the week and baking goodies instead of buying them. The flip side is that I can't afford a babysitter (now that I actually have one in the area) and I can't afford the gas money to drive to see the friends I have been missing so much. But I wake every morning in a lovely house that is a safe haven from the cold and I have the luxury of a laptop and pirated internet signal. I have French Roast and free range eggs in the morning and a park up the street where the kids and I can sled or ice skate. I have friends calling to offer their tireless support and love and little windfalls keep coming my way. Returning to the house one snowy night there was a package by the door with my name on it. A new friend had seen my face book post bemoaning the onset of a cold and had sent me a whole slew of get-well goodies from drugstore.com. I was totally blown away by this act of generosity. The items inside the box are only part of the gift, her reaching out and offering her support fortified me immensely. Yesterday while going through yet another box of stuff in my nana's home, I found a letter from a friend dated in 2007 that I had never received. Inside was a message of such love and support and affirmation that it seems like it was meant for today. I am thankful for these unexpected gifts. I am also thankful for marajuana and white wine. I am thankful for hot showers and snow down the back of my pants. I am thankful for the little peals of laughter from the living room. I am thankful for the picture I have propped up next to my computer, my nana's beautiful smile encouraging me to write every sentence. I am thankful for mysteries and for not feeling the need to solve every single one. I am thankful for walks on warm nights and the feel of silk on my naked skin. I am thankful for my mother's music and the freedom of dance. I am enraged by big business customer service, devoid of humanity. I am overwhelmed by Haiti and all the desperation, need and loss around the world. I am scared of never being successful. I am jealous of those I perceive as having it 'easy'. I am confused about love. I am disappointed in the size of my breasts and probably always will be. I'm annoyed by religious people knocking on my door (when I am greasy and disheveled), bringing a message out of the goodness of their hearts, of impending doom and damnation. Can't they see I'm having a hard enough time preparing myself for TODAY? Like the seasons and cycles I was born into, I am balanced by positive and negative, gain and loss, potential and collapse, generosity and materialism, optimism and despair. I am perfectly imperfect.

'Well, my road might be rocky,
The stones might cut my face.
My road it might be rocky,
The stones might cut my face.
But as some folks ain't got no road at all,
They gotta stand in the same old place.
Hey, hey, so I guess I'm doin' fine.'
-
Bob Dylan from 'Guess I'm Doin' Fine'

I too have a dream

On NPR this morning a Reverend Kyle noted that so often pioneers don’t live to walk the trails they blaze. Kyle was with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on the day he was shot. My mind skipped back to something Elizabeth Gilbert said on ‘The Exchange’ the other morning, about marriage and how in essence, we are all pioneers of modern marriage right now. She said that we really only have two generations of women to model ourselves after, who have married with equal rights and choices. And because of this marriage is still evolving and we are in the thick of it. I nodded my head in agreement over the sink of dishes I was tackling. This is partly what I touched on in one of my earlier blog posts: that the multitude of choices women have now can negatively affect our success in long term relationships. I just hadn’t thought about it the way she presented it, that we have so little in the way of role models, that we are the pioneers. It would make sense then that women can feel so lonely and isolated in their desires for an alternative kind of marriage or for freedom from their marriage simply to pursue some of these choices we now have. Choices that guide us closer to ourselves. In our great grandmothers day, it was bona fide scandal if a woman left her husband-especially if it was for another man. Depending on where she lived and who she was, she could lose her children, reputation and social standing for choosing selfhood or passion over wedlock. Wedlock. What a terrible word. Implying that there is a lock holding two together, also implies that there must be a key. Who is the holder of the key? I wonder if I will ever get to pioneer by example before I die. Will I ever test or achieve the relationship I envision? Will I see in my lifetime the necessary major shift of consciousness surrounding marriage? I wholeheartedly support wanting and having a till death do us part relationship. I think cohesive, successful ones greatly benefit society. Our society’s inability to adapt it’s thinking and teaching of marriage will only allow for its continued decline. History has taught us so many times it’s hardly necessary to point it out again, that failure to adapt results in extinction. So why don’t we start with early education. Teach children that a ‘normal’ marriage might consist of two people keeping separate bedrooms. Not for a lack of intimacy between them, but in the interest of achieving intimacy with themselves, to satisfy a need for personal space, to provide a retreat, a place for expression through the chosen color of paint, textiles, artwork etc. A ‘normal’ marriage may work best when the couple sees each other one or two weeks out of a month. A ‘normal’ marriage may facilitate sabbaticals so to speak. I would like children to learn that monogamy and marriage are not about owning another person literally or figuratively, that it is about supporting and helping your loved one live a fulfilling life that is guided by an internal compass and expecting the same in return. I would like to steer love and ego in separate directions- like state and church they shouldn’t be mixed.
I have the basic outline for what I consider to be the New Marriage but I still need to meditate on the fillers. For example, teaching myself how to be productive and self reliant when my lover is off on sabbatical or, back it up, when I am newly dating and waiting around for that phone call, that assurance I am so used to seeking. I realize this is all big talk from some one petrified of even dating! One of these days it will be time to step down from my soapbox and conduct some trial runs and I imagine I will fail more than once. The early American settlers lost many lives to the winters of this strange new land and we all know what atrocities the survivors went on to commit. I pray my own errors will not wipe out any chance my children have of achieving healthy love. If I do not ever get to walk the trail I am helping to blaze, I hope that my children can, that at the very least the path if not paved, will be well trodden.

Marie Curie ain't got nothin' on me

There are times when I wouldn’t want to hire myself to babysit my own children. I can get almost a perverse, teenage pleasure from mimicking their high whiney voices until they break down in tears. A couple times I’ve pushed to get an emotional response from my son when he didn’t cry about something truly sad or upsetting. I think I was honestly worried that he might be unable to have a sad emotional release. Mothers are underpaid under-recognized and let’s face it- sometimes unqualified, anthropologists. We are scientists shoved into the field armed only with our limited life experiences and what we consider right and wrong as a result of those experiences. We are alchemists pulling elements off the shelves adding a dash of discipline, a cup of love, with a blueprint hanging on the wall reminding us of the anticipated, magnificent end result. The culmination of our blood, sweat, tears, love, heartache, mistakes and well meaning. How often we have to remind ourselves that the original essence we’ve been amalgamating, in many ways identical to our own, is also many parts it’s own unique substance entirely alien to us. One wrong ingredient could fuck the whole thing up! Sounds like a dream job doesn’t it. To be quite honest there are days when I don’t want the damn job. Get. Me. Out. Of. Here. Just let me fly free for a few days, a week, a month. Just lighten my load so I can think for a while. What I wouldn’t give sometimes to be my old girl self, before the preoccupation with boys turned me into a sullen, depressed, pimply pain in the ass. To be the confident, curious, energetic girl who spent all day in the woods amusing herself. To sit by the side of a secret stream, on a moss covered rock, hugging my knees, inhaling the scent of their sun-warmed skin.
I sat with that too long and now I’m crying… Grief is a funny thing. It runs on it’s own schedule. You thought the last train came five years ago and suddenly you have to dive off the tracks to avoid that roaring, steel, harbinger of memory and you’re left to nurse the resulting cuts and scrapes. I’ve always been overly nostalgic and I do grieve for that childhood never to return. I grieve that I only travel farther and farther from ‘her’ and closer and closer to frailty and infirmity. I could really use some more celebration in my life. I could use some belly laughs, some wicked mirth, some gentle words, a long hug, some sister love. Right now I’m broke as a joke and the phone brings me my friends. Once I have a little gas money though I am going to buckle the kids in and aim my wheels towards the nearest warm kitchen. Keep a light on ladies.
It sounds like the kids movie has ended, time to drag myself back to the lab. Maybe I should focus more on my own concoction today. Let’s see: a cup of patience, a gallon of optimism to balance the brooding, a dash of contentment to cure the malaise and enough wisdom and perseverance to keep the whole thing from fermenting. Let’s hope it doesn’t blow up in my face.

I know why the caged bird is thirsty

Some days I sit and wonder how I’m going to get anything done. How will I ever get the kids to the park when I can’t get myself dressed? The task of getting them dressed, finding socks, putting on snow pants, jackets, boots, mittens and hats seems too monumental and I can’t get off the edge of my bed or out of my bathrobe. The weight of lost dreams, an unknown future and unclear present, settles around me like cement and if I don’t drag my arms and legs through the motions it will harden and I will sit forever. The kids will have to go to the neighbors for help. Maybe my son will remember how to dial 911. When the ambulance comes I will sit, unable to move my mouth, my eyes pleading for them to recognize my cemented condition. Once the fantasy gets this far I’m distracted enough by the absurdity to grab for my pants and the battle’s already half won.
Outside and bundled, we troupe to the park and I am shocked anew by the stinging cold that greets my cheeks and lungs. I let them slide across the ice of the duck pond as long as I can stand it and when my toes start to go numb we head for what we now call home. I spend hours re-arranging two of the bedrooms, trying to transform them into comforting, uncluttered, welcoming spaces. This is what I can offer them right now. I drag a slightly mildewed mattress up from the basement for myself and set up a little desk in a corner with plants to my left and a window to my right. This is where I have taken to having my coffee in the morning, listening to NPR, and it doesn’t eradicate the sadness or loneliness, but it helps. It’s where I’m writing from now, yelling at the kids when they squawk too loudly in their play. Then they sneak in on tip-toes to whisper in my ear that they love me and offer me their small, wet lips that only a parent can enjoy kissing without worrying if that’s spit or boogers. I can tell today it is going to be nearly impossible to be present and thankful. Today I’m going to wait for the phone to ring and my heart will flutter around in my chest, an impatient, anxious tenant and my patience will wear thin before noon. Today my heart will weigh heavy as the cement that threatens to pinion me to the bed. But it’s all really controlled by perspective and I can’t help but think of those old adages of glass half full or half empty and making lemonade from lemons. As I clear off the window seat to neatly place some books, toys and a pillow for the kids, as I tape bright, colorful cards of various winter birds on the wall to cheerfully greet them when they awake so far from their familiar room, and papa and beloved kitties; I am squeezing those lemons and mixing in what sugar I can procure to distract them from the sourness of life. I fill their glasses first and sometimes there is enough to fill mine and sometimes, like today, it’s half empty.

Bon Voyage

The dance has ended. The last awkward and unbalanced steps were painfully performed for both of our families during the holidays and then he went home to work while the kids and I stayed on in New Hampshire with the intention of returning a week or two later. Now he asks that we not return, that he be allowed to prepare for his deployment without the misery that my presence causes him. He is angry and launches a verbal attack on my character, on my failings, on everything I have given this family during the six years of our marriage. He rejects the notion that I love him and predicts that I will take him for all he’s worth in court. I sit on the other end of the phone hearing the pain and anger in his voice, my insides churning, my heart in anguish for him, for me, for the children. I am able somehow, in the midst of this unloving barrage, to feel a calm understanding of what he is doing and why he needs to do it. He needs to free himself of me in order to heal. He needs to be angry so that he will not be made vulnerable by his love for me. He needs to believe that I have used him to keep a roof over my head, that I plan to rake him over the coals in divorce court, that I have single handedly ruined the family that he is supposed to have. He is hardening himself against me.
There is only one small blessing that will come from his six month deployment to Afghanistan: that I will not be able to torture him by succumbing to my sadness and loneliness, that I will not be able to call him with the selfish need to tell him I love him, I miss him, his smell, his hug, his companionship. There is one great fear that haunts me: that he will die in Afghanistan.
A friend just gave birth to her second child in the thresh hold between her living room and kitchen. Not exactly where she had planned, but it was time RIGHT THEN and everyone adapted to what was inevitable. Holding her four day old son in my arms and listening to her birthing story, I was transported back to my own labors and those sensations normally kept under lock and key by biological necessity, come back in small increments. I realize that where we have been in our marriage is akin to the crowning during birth. The head needs to come past the pubic bone, the pelvis needs to expand the last little bit, the skin of the perineum needs to stretch a little more and it feels like none of these things is possible. The pain, aptly called the ring of fire, is unbelievable and the fear that you might split in two is very real. I remember being terrified of pushing, of increasing that pain, but I knew I had to do it for there to be progress. Those pushes that moved my babies heads down and into the world required the most strength and trust I have ever had to summon.
I told the kids this morning that we will not be going back to North Carolina, that their papa is leaving on another long work trip, that he loves them very much, that we both love them very much. I told them papa and I are having a hard time being married. My daughter who’s emotions are readily available at the drop of a hat, cried. My son said the same thing he did when I told him his great nana had passed: “ That’s not sad for me!”
I left the room to stir the oatmeal and when I came back he was standing alone with his finger in his belly button. I drew him to me and he began to cry. We all cried a little together and then went on with our morning. This is what it will be like for us, I thought. Later we called their father and they expressed their sadness. Then my daughter said, “I don’t remember what your face looks like.” My insides crumpled for him. It’s only been five days since she’s seen him, of course she remembers him, but I know this statement has played on one of his worst fears and I imagine him being in our big house alone contemplating all that he has lost and there isn’t a damn thing I can do. I haven’t been able to make him feel better in years so really this isn’t a new handicap yet it continues to cause me heartache and seems alien to the essence of my being as a woman. I suppose that in time this particular pain will ease for both of us, that eventually some other woman will open her arms to him, nurture and love him as he deserves. I am less sure that I will be able to love and give like that again. I feel broken down and undesirable. I could find ten guys, in one night out, who would want to take me home. Who might fancy themselves fortunate to call me a girlfriend, but when they find out who I really am, how my mind works, what my requirements are, how fiercely I value my autonomy, how my energy will mainly flow to my children, how I am hurting for an obsolete marriage, then they will count themselves lucky to slip out in the morning without leaving so much as a phone number.
Ah, but that feeling is thankfully not constant and I can catch glimpses of this confident, beautiful, powerful, bright woman with bold ideas and a wonderfully open mind and heart who has just set out on a terrifically exciting journey.
Pack your bags folks. Here we go.

Running in circles and getting somewhere?

How, I ask myself, can seven months go by without an entry? The same way seven months can go by without getting a haircut, seeing a movie, going out on the town, calling a special friend... I guess I get so tired of my own state of being that I don't even want to 'burden' myself with, well, myself. I've used a lot of life lines these past few years and I am so grateful for those women in my life on the other end of the phone or computer. While my marriage has been crumbling and while I've been taking great risks to find my own path, I have been receiving cards in the mail, voice mails and emails from friends saying: You are Beautiful and Strong, Loving and Capable and We love you! Here in North Carolina, where we have been since May, I still don't have a tangible circle of friends and feel bereft every day. It is these faithful reminders from friends back home that help buoy me along.

I am in my own bedroom now where I have my own little bookshelf,a reading lamp and two windows to let in the sunlight. This change ended up bringing me more relief and peace than I anticipated. I have a space all to myself where I don't have to be touched or cuddled, where I can wear a silky night gown to bed and not worry about the 'repercussions". The precursor to this decision was, I guess a defining moment. For about three years now I have not had any interest whatsoever in initiating sex. When I actually gave in to my husbands advances, the experience was not one where I felt I was sharing a spiritual, intimate joining together, but rather a very private experience where I went off in my head to enjoy it any way I could. I have waited these years for something like a sign from above to tell me definitively what I should do. Stay or Go!! One night, shortly after arriving in NC, while having sex, my body screamed out "NO MORE!!!!" and my brain finally listened. My body had been trying to tell me for a long time. The sign from above was actually from within! As my husband and I prepare to eventually physically separate I am plagued with doubt: What if I'm making a mistake? What if I'll never be happy? What if the kids decide to live with their father when they're older and I'm left alone? What if he marries a woman I hate? And I'm plagued with guilt: He's hurting so bad, how could I do this? My choice will hurt the children. Look how much he loves me and the children....
Rocking the boat was a masochistic choice because with out friends or family here, when he shuts himself off out of hurt and anger, I'm all alone, day in and day out. What ever I do or don't do drastically affects the little bubble I live in. There were awful days and weeks and I sank under the guilt and started feeling like everyone would be better off without me. No matter if I choose to stay or go, some one will suffer. I had been in the same place last winter and now, just like then, I decided not to gamble with this level of depression and went on an anti-depressant . Now that the hopelessness is held at bay, I am able to fight that guilt with logic and reason. They say it's hard to see the forest from the trees and they ain't lying. Little by little the muddle in my heart and brain takes shape and makes sense. As I have set boundaries in my marriage and claimed space for myself, I have come to know more about where I am and what I need. I think that I am yearning to be alone. Not without the children, but without a partner. My mother got what I meant right away and said: "Sometimes you need to be alone to find your Truth." (No my mother doesn't watch Oprah- she doesn't even have a TV). Man did that resonate. I believe it is every human being's right to seek knowledge of themselves and to forge a path guided by this knowledge. Some people never know this and are able to continue on without having a breakdown or break out. Some people fly off the handle when they figure it out and loose everything. I am hoping to settle peacefully far enough away from both.
All around me women I know or women I know of, are going through a very similar metamorphosis. SO MANY women are not in love any more, SO MANY women are hungry for themselves. It's becoming such a common theme around me that I have begun to wonder why we aren't seeing more stats? Is it an epidemic? Has it always been going on but I just wasn't there yet so I didn't tune into it? And this leads me back to an old question that has been churning around in my brain for years: Is there such a thing as having too many choices? Can having all these choices, as women, be a bad thing? Is the change in society a wrench in the cog? Now I'm not taking ten giant steps back to the Ice Age here, it warrants some thought. Certainly not in an effort to take away women's choices, but rather to shed light on the cause of some of our stress! Knowing something can make all the difference. Knowing can wholly change the way you look at something. Knowing can change your life. So I ask in the spirit of knowledge.

My husband, dear, dear man that he is, has gone through his own metamorphosis brought on by pain and anger and grief. He has thanked me for 'sticking to my guns' as it has forced him to look within and to be alone with where he is in HIS life. He is still committed to saving the marriage but respects my rejection of the idea and gives me my space. He struggles to honor my boundaries, but that struggle is indicative of his trying. For now he offers me financial support and the support in raising the children, a friendship in what ever capacity I need and we are still under the same roof. My friends have been so gracious as I call them to tell them- I'm leaving! I'm staying. I'm leaving! I'm staying.... It feels like I've been running in circles in my head and my life but when I look back to last winter when I started this blog, I can see just how much distance I've covered on my way Home, to myself.

PENIS CHEEK

It's time to discuss some motherhood here! My husband and I have not yet decided what to teach our now four and a half year old son what to call his testicles. 'Testicles' seems way to old, 'balls' and 'nuts' innapropriate and even 'scrotum' which a girlfriend of mine settled on, seems wierd. So we've been ignoring it and it seems my son has come up with his own name. I noticed him figiting with his penis through his pants the other day- his face scrunched up in discomfort. I asked if he had to pee and he said no, his penis was stuck. I noticed him doing it again a few minutes later and asked him if his penis was stuck again. "Yes", he replied, "It's stuck to my penis cheek."

Spring is in full bloom here in Bavaria. The crocuses have been up for a couple weeks the terns are back in the lake and the bees are buzzing about their business. And the sun! Ahh the sun is back. During the winters here the clouds basically move in for good. The past few sunny days it really feels like I am comprised of solar panels and my energy is doubling, tripling. My optimism is through the roof and my depression is but a memory. The kids and I have been spending blissful afternoons in the yard and I am truly savoring it as it will be our last spring here. In fact we are preparing to move to North Carolina in three weeks. My son is not happy about this and has, I believe, been internalizing his feelings and it's coming out as anger. For a couple weeks he was like a stranger. My normaly even keeled, mellow boy was all barbs, glares and stomps. Nearly every word he spoke was angry. It was both frustrating and heartbreaking for me. Of course I felt it was important to help him connect with the true root of his anger but that's the tricky part as a parent with a child so young because what if we end up simply projecting on to them what we THINK the problem is. How many countless times we screw up. I haven't decided yet if I think it's worse to know when you're screwing up and doing it anyway, or when you are ignorant of what you're doing wrong.

For the past two months I was involved with the theater! It'd been some thirteen years since I'd performed on stage and I fell in love with it again. My husband came to see final performance which was adjudicated by professionals from around the world and it was hands down one of the most self afirming experiences since giving birth. He has never seen me act! It's been a life long passion, even a cause for argument in our marriage when I bring up my desire to persue it, and he'd never even seen me perform. He and I have been through so many ups and downs these past years. Deciding to separate and then to work it out over and over. There have been so many doubts, so many days I've wondered, is this it? Is he the best partner for me? Could I be happier with some one else? He was gone on a five week TDY (tour of duty) for all but the last week of rehearsal so I was scrambling to fit childcare together for the evenings and study my lines during the days. It was stressful but so fulfilling and he was earnestly happy for me and looked forward to seeing the play. Upon his return I booked two trips for us sans kids and between booking the trips and him getting to respect and admire me for something I achieved, it was a boost for our relationship and for now we are looking towards a future together. I still don't necessarily see us spending the rest of our lives together and I continue to desire a more autonomous marriage but I am happy right now.
One word that keeps surfacing lately is 'surrender'. Two older, wiser women that just recently came into my life have encouraged me to surrender at different times and in different contexts. I feel like I've been fighting so hard against being a housewife, agianst letting my husband 'win' by giving in and changing the litter box, against giving up my dreams of acting and writing, agianst conforming to a military life etc... All this energy and time spent fighting and what gems have I missed out on while struggling against life? Even today the word makes me feel slightly panicky and sounds too much like compromise.

Surrender and Sacrifice. Are these the corner stones of motherhood and marriage? It's so easy to surrender when my son wraps his arms around me, when I'm nuzzling the soft skin of my daughter's neck or celebrating a new milestone with them. It's not easy when I miss yet another audition or can't find the energy to write, when they are whining and crying all day and I want desperately to take off and blow off some steam alone, when my husband gets into one of his funks and doesn't lift a hand in the house for weeks and I am supposed to be understanding when in fact I'm resentful and overwhelmed. Maybe I need to invent my own word for sacrifice, something I'm more comfortable with. I bet my son has his own way of expressing the action, something simple, accurate and matter of fact. He does have a way with words.

It Seems We All Live So Close To That Line And So Far From Satisfaction

"A woman I knew just drowned herself
The well was deep and muddy
She was just shaking off futility
Or punishing somebody
My friends were calling up all day yesterday
All emotions and abstractions
It seems we all live so close to that line
And so far from satisfaction"
-Joni Mitchell


Depression is a tricky, slippery eel.
It is a Black Dog.
Depression is an instigator, a bully, a tyrant.
It knows no personal boundaries.
Depression has selective hearing.
Depression will do what ever it has to
to win.


Six years ago today a childhood friend waited on the train tracks behind her house. She had texted her boyfriend to tell him she loved him, taken her purse with her i.d. inside and headed out into the frigid night. Her sadness was so deep and her desire to die so strong that it overcame her innate instinct to protect her life as the train sped towards her. All these years later that fact resides uncomfortably in my mind. As some one who struggles with depression and has lived with it most of her life, it terrifies me to know that our mind can betray us by giving up the will to survive. Like Joni says- we all live so close to that line. And it's so easy to stray from satisfaction.... Some days I am a warrior against my black dog- optimism as my sword and hope as my shield. Other days I am unable to see the point of going through what is sure to be year after year of unhappiness, a screaming daughter and a life without passion. Today I am grateful that I know deep down, I could never stand my ground on those train tracks. My thoughts are sometimes unwelcome guests, but my mind is firmly connected to life and all that I desire to accomplish, see and do before that light goes out.
I am meditating on the young woman who gave up so long ago, seeing her face and sending her some love in hopes that she will receive it in some form what ever or where ever she may or may not be.

Itching up a Storm

That last bad day feels far behind me and there is much more peace in the home. I realized, partly with the help of my husband, that I am very hard on myself. I think most mothers are. None of us are perfect it is rare that a mother feels she is living up to her own ideal of a mother one hundred percent of the time. Raising, guiding, nurturing, teaching and protecting these little beings is such a monumental responsibility and we all falter under the weight of it. Because it is the biggest and most important job I'll ever do I am pretty harsh on myself. I'm not entirely sure it's a bad thing though. As a mother who spends a lot of time alone at home with her children, I have to be very self motivated, monitor and check myself when I am out of line or undisciplined. We are self employed and since no one else is looking over our shoulder it might be a good thing to set the bar high. I guess it's a balancing act like everything else, to be forgiving of ones self but not to an oversight. The other day I sank too low and got mired in my guilt and made myself feel like the worst mother on earth because I screamed at my kids. Because I do not want to be a screaming mother and don't want my children growing up on eggshells it's good that I felt disappointed but I've got to work on the perspective. Yesterday I had a small victory. My four year old son had a complete melt down, screaming, kicking, the works. He's been so angry lately and it hurts for me to see him scowling because I know it's a reaction to my own unchecked anger that he witnessed. They had a little friend over for a play date so I knew I had to get him alone to reason with him. I picked him up and managed to carry him to his room despite his best efforts to topple us both backwards down the stairs. I could feel my heart racing and the adrenaline rushing through my limbs in response to his shrill screams in my ears and the strength and balance it took to protect us from harm on the stairs. There was a part of me that wanted to toss him on his bed and scream "SHUT UP!!" That is one thing I have never said to them but I've thought it plenty of times:) Instead I consciously calmed my heart, set him gently on his bed and knelt in front of him with my hands on his knees. I started talking in a quiet, rational tone and he stopped crying immediately. I explained to him what I needed and expected of him, being the eldest child in the house, that he needed to set an example for the younger ones so that they would respect and listen to me. His response? A hug. Overcoming our frustrated urges and getting a positive result in return is like winning a gold medal and it sets the tone for an hour or so after which is another reward.
Last night after I had tucked them in, I was in bed on the computer with a good friend getting my much needed social time when I heard their bedroom door click open.
"Who is out of bed?" I yelled.
My Son's groggy voice replied, "I'm itching up a storm and can't get into bed."
Some times, even at the end of a long day, when your kids are supposed to be sleeping and you really NEED for them to be sleeping, you can overcome your frustration of a wakeful child and have a good laugh.

Sweet Calm After the Storm

There isn't even an inch of snow here in this part of Bavaria. It's been cloudy and rainy for the past month. Now we have about 3/4 of an inch and the waters are frozen. I took the kids out on a nearby pond this morning and we followed the fisher cat and mouse tracks through the snow over and under dead branches and small islands that harbor mating terns in the Spring. They were fascinated with the tracks and wondered if the big cat had caught that mouse or had their tracks merely crossed, one well before the other. We made snow angels and pretended not to notice a curious little bird who circled us, perching on branches closer and closer. She was a sweet little bird and very good natured- I could tell. The river by my house is frozen this year and I am aching to get out on some ice skates while the kids are in school. When I was a child some of my fondest memories are of skating on lakes and in huge old swamps normally inaccessible, underneath the nests of Great Blue Herons, around tiny mysterious islands now vulnerable and exposed. There was no sound but my skates and I felt so peaceful, my mind so quiet. I need that peace and the cold on my face. It was like medicine to laugh with the kids. We healed together today, yesterday's frustrations brushed aside, the slate as clean as the crisp, white snow.

The Dark Corners of Motherhood

How do our children fare when we sink so low? How is this leg of the journey I am on going to affect them in the long run? We all must push on through and do the best we can but what if we end up doing our children a terrible disservice by taking too many emotional liberties? I have been so enmeshed in this depression, obsessed with finding my happiness, with changing my life for the better, with finding my callings that the child rearing seems to have taken the back seat. Sure I am here every single day- day in and day out and lavish them with love, but am never fully present in mind. I am elsewhere in daydream or depression or sorry thoughts for myself. It sounds terrible doesn't it? This is the dirty underbelly of motherhood that no one wants to talk about. That we aren't always doing a great job and sometimes for long stretches of time we suck at what we're doing. Right now- I suck at motherhood. Hands down. Doesn't feel good to admit it but it would feel worse to deny it. Some people learn how to take the reigns and lead themselves to a healthier place. One amazing woman in my life found herself with a toddler, new born twins, a partner with out a job and no one ever came around to help. She was up and down and at times way down, but she disciplined herself to get up before the children- before the sun- to do yoga or run. That is iron strength right there. To drag yourself, sleep deprived, out of bed to make yourself do something you know is going to give you a little more energy for the great task ahead of you,when all you want to do is REST!! She is a wonder to me and has been many times over the years.
My own mother was a single mother living in the woods with no electricity or running water and until I was 5- no car. She would bundle me up and put me in the seat on the back of her bike. She chopped holes in the river near our cabin for water. She also lost the love of her life while I was still in diapers- he never came to explain- just took off with another woman. She said that she got so low after that she couldn't look anyone in the eye, that I was the only thing that saved her. I often wonder what I was privy to during that time.... But she turned to Yoga and meditation and her music and become more in tune with herself.
My children have seen my worst and that kills me. It must be so scary for them when I lose it but in the moment I lack discipline, I'm selfish and I unleash. I don't beat them or anything but my voice can be so cold. My children are paying for my unhappiness and I wonder if I can get it together in time for it to merely be a dim memory or to fade away completely into non existence. I've noted that the anti-depressant I am taking makes me feel extremely raw and I am thinking I should stop because the rages it throws me into cause as much depression as was present before starting the damn drug. Today they saw the bad mom in all her glory. It snuck up on me like a hungry cat. It's tiiiime. One half of my brain is saying- oh god listen to yourself- turn it around now! There I am just lettin' loose, all guns firing, releasing the demon. The other half of my brain registers their beautiful eyes grown wide, bodies clenched and my heart moans.
Today I decided to write it out. It's ugly.



I am like a monster
raging
screaming
my world falls down upon me

I am suffocating
drowning
stagnant
unable to sustain joy

They are watching
scared
confused
as mother morphs before them

I can hear my terrible voice
cold
accusing
the love does not shine through

I am lost in this sea
undone
unhinged
primitive in my anger

And after I'm numb
embarrassed
depressed
and wish to leave this body

To leave them better
without
me
a mother too wild and free

Then I want to gather them
warm
soft
little bodies born from mine

I want to assure
convince
atone
lighten their sweet little minds

For it's surely too heavy a load
burden
love
for them to carry for life

Sweeter souls I have never known
fly
free
from me.

Feeling low but reaching high

When it comes to relationships I don't like gray areas. I like it to be black or white- saves me a lot of angst. It's been one of the nicest things about marriage, not having to waste my time and energy trying to figure out some guy. I have never been good at the 'dating game'. I wear my wants, needs, feelings and expectations on my sleeve and it usually turns the guy off. I have a hunch that dating men in my generation might be easier now, that they just might be ready for a woman like me and a lot of them are fathers themselves with needs and expectations that more closely match mine. Or perhaps I'm being totally idealistic which is another reason I sucked at dating. Why so much thought on the subject? My husband and I have decided to separate and will be doing so about two months after our five year anniversary. We have not been able to reach a compromise on having an open marriage, namely I am not able to promise him complete fidelity and he can not offer me the freedom I desire. We came to the decision peaceably enough with no yelling or screaming but not without heavy hearts and lots of tears on my part. We've been going regularly to a marriage counselor that the Military provides and this one is actually really good. We tried with one guy who flicked his tongue like a reptile which was too disconcerting and then we tried with a chaplain right before my husband deployed who was very nice and didn't bring religion into the sessions thankfully but I was uncomfortable discussing my unorthodox relationship desires with him. So this new guy is very good at what he does and we have made a fair amount of progress in our communicating. Since we started seeing him the focus has changed from saving the marriage to navigating separation and divorce and I am very thankful we will have help during this time. Our sessions have brought to light many key and core differences and have helped me to realize that the marriage isn't necessarily ending because of the open marriage disagreement. I now see that I want and need a partner who is willing and capable of expanding their mind around a different relationship concept. That the world has changed and as a result people do business differently, dress differently, priorities have changed, religion is adapting and people relate differently. I want a partner who can love, cherish and honor me and who is not threatened by the idea of me exploring a connection with some one else. I desire a partner who is not wholly ruled by their ego, who can identify when fear is fueled by jealousy and ego and can work through and beyond it, who can help me work through and beyond mine. I want to grow and expand with someone in the ways that I live and love. Long before we had children and long before I was aware of this yearning in myself I would have thought my husband eager to explore this new way of loving but I have learned that he is comfortable in the traditional ways of love and as much as I wish it could be different I have to accept that it is OK. He is not backwards or ignorant, he is who he is and I am who I am and as much as we love one another we can no longer fulfill each others needs. He said in one of our last sessions that I see myself as a big fish in a big pond and he sees himself as a small fish in a small pond and the concept and realization exploded in my head. I have much broader visions of my future and he is content with much less and should we stay together he would always resist my greater needs and feel threatened by them. I can't shrink myself to fit into his dream and he should not compromise his happiness to fulfill mine either.
And yet there will be a few times each day that I am ready to compromise myself, ready to stifle my longings. I start to believe when he says that I am making a big mistake and will always regret this- that I will always be unhappy because I can't be happy with what I have. I just want to stay together, to avoid all of this hurt, to keep the children from the inevitable pain. After all we do love each other immensely. But then I call a good friend and she reminds me that I am an amazing woman with so much to offer and that if my closest friends thought I was making a mistake they would have hopped on a plane by now to come shake some sense into me. As much as they all love my husband they are all rooting for the separation. They have heard my unhappiness for the past five years and they have faith that there is a better match for me out there and once I know that kind of love I will be shocked that I lived so long with out it. I want that for my husband too. These days he is sleeping downstairs and we are trying to establish some healthy ground rules, boundaries. He suggests that we not have sex any more so that we can focus on our friendship which is the most important thing since it has to live on after the marriage. We make love that same night. We manage to stay some what aloof for a few days then we get a christmas tree and decorate it with the kids and we go for a walk in the snow by the quiet river. We need each other. We need to be held. We want to feel close because neither of us can stand for long the thought of being apart. After making love there is a heaviness that is almost worse than the heaviness that preceded the act.
I grieve a lot. I have amazing friends who help me through this but there is a six hour time difference between us so there is a lot of quiet and lately I have been filling it with nonsense. Dumb TV shows and trashy magazines. I am trying to escape into other realities which is ultimately very unhealthy for me. This stuff is like a gate way drug for me because then I start drinking wine every night and can't go to the gym in the morning because I'm too dehydrated and then I start sugar bingeing... It's a bad cycle lemme tell ya. I have one girlfriend who although is not married and doesn't have children ,is going through a very similar thing. We have been amazed at how parallel our experiences have been and grateful that there is some one else out there who can relate. She is working up the courage to make the break with her lover and asked me to write her a letter of encouragement that she can refer too when feeling weak and low. It ended up being more for the both of us:

I've been feeling so low. So this is for us. I need to hold on to this as much as you. We have a whole wonderful, beautiful life ahead of us. We have good loving and true love- maybe even loves ahead of us. This difficult, lonely, heartbreaking time is but the blink of an eye in a long, long life. Both of our lovers were instrumental in helping to form us into the women we are today but our relationships with them do not define us, nor the ending of these relationships... It's what we have in our hearts and minds that defines us, our dreams we are working hard to reach, the immense amount of love and support we get and give defines us because WE have drawn that into our lives. One of the hardest facts is that we are all alone, when we're happy, when we're sad whether married, single or swingin', we're all alone. So it's of the utmost importance that we listen to ourselves and guide ourselves and trust ourselves. It's important that we forgive ourselves when we fail at any of the above. Some nights we will feel so lonely, our beds will be so empty that we will hug ourselves to feel warmth, pull the pillows to our backs to feel some one there. I've lived through that and can do it again. We will also feel the sun on our faces, the smooth pull of water over our bodies, the strength of our legs on a mountain trail, the hug of a dear friend, the kiss of a new lover and the electricity that follows and spreads over our whole being. We'll smell the damp earth pregnant with life and death, warm pine needles, salty air, freshly baking bread, babies sweet breath. Man- there is so much to be joyful for and we need to hold onto these truths because we both have important work immediately at hand and shit is going to be difficult for a while. I have two little children to protect from the pain of this separation, you have no choice but to keep yourself immersed in your studies because you are going to be a DOCTOR!! You are going to change peoples lives! So it's not just for ourselves we will plug on through this- it's for my son and daughter and those countless people who will feel your healing hands.

WAR

I am a strong advocate of autonomy but believe deployment is not a positive autonomous experience and is psychological warfare on relationships. The soldier who is in a war zone is put in a situation that requires them to act in a manner based solely on self preservation far from the values and morals that we are raised with in our society. They are not likely to share with the loved ones at home what they are experiencing or doing to protect the loved ones from worrying. The loved one(es) therefore cannot fully understand what the soldier is going through and may not be able to give the right kind of support or assurance the soldier may be yearning for. When the soldier comes home they are expected to switch gears and smoothly transition back into normal society where they may fear that what they have done or the choices they may have made under duress, may be viewed with disgust and aversion. This creates an environment where the soldier can not open up and share their experience and leaves the loved one in a position where they are unable to reach out and heal and show unconditional love and understanding. A wall is often created where the soldier suffers in silence thinking that they are still protecting their partner from the shame and embarrassment that they themselves are feeling but in fact their partner may be feeling lost, shut out and angry. This may help to explain in part why there is a 60-70% divorce rate in the Army...

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. -A.N.

My husband was in Afghanistan for 6 months and at some point during that time I started to re-awaken. I was watching a very steamy scene on TV and normally I would have felt nauseous but this time my body reacted with warm tingles. Suddenly everything was in working order and I felt like I just might eat a man alive if the opportunity presented itself. After years of feeling deadened and ashamed of my lack of desire and response I felt healthy and alive again. For the first time since getting together with my husband 6 years ago, I felt desire for another man. There is something big that happens to a woman's sexuality after having children. I feel like I own it more than I ever did as a young woman and it no longer makes me nervous as it once did when I would receive unwanted cat calls or attention. I had started seeing a therapist when I went on anti-depressants and he recommended that I look into Anais Nin. I believe he suggested her to me so that I wouldn't feel so alone in some of my thoughts and ideas, so that I had some one to identify with. She was a very unconventional woman for her time and lived a very forward life. I found right away when I started reading her journals that we shared many traits. For a long while now I have been interested in exploring an open marriage. Not for the reasons most would assume though. It's not, for me, about needing or wanting to have sex with other men to satisfy a great sexual hunger or to replace my absent father. Rather I like to imagine having such a strong and solid love with someone that we could allow each other autonomous intellectual and sexual experiences outside of our marriage. Quite frankly I'm not interested in only making love to one man for the rest of my life. I never thought too much about getting married before I did or about what the institution of marriage meant to me. I've had lots of time to reflect on it since marrying and I find it odd that the way we prove and declare love for our partner is to deny ourselves what we desire for the rest of our lives. Now another thing that I have come to believe is that staying with one person and working on and focusing on that one relationship for a long time allows for personal growth that is unlikely if you are always playing the field or spreading yourself around. Once you have allowed yourself to be totally vulnerable and once you feel that sense of security in a relationship then you can focus on yourself and the problems you work through with your partner teach you and help you to grow as a human. I believe in long term and loyal relationships and I want to have that but loyalty, to me, does not mean total sacrifice. What about being loyal to yourself? What about the ways you can grow and learn through other people? What if being lovers for a time with another person allows you to expand in a direction you weren't with your partner or just jump starts your body and mind? Anais had an open marriage and many lovers but her reasons were different than mine. Still it felt nice to feel that she would have understood me and not judged me to be an awful wife.
My husband is not interested in pursuing this type of relationship and it will, at some point, become too great a difference for us to put aside. For now it is not something we speak of. And I understand why. For years he's felt unwanted and insecure because of my lack of desire towards him, like he's going to be ok with me wanting to be with other men. I knew not to push it until we were doing better. About two and a half months into his deployment we decided to separate. There was a lot of back and forth and painful things said that led up to it and the decision didn't hold very long- about three weeks I think. When we decided to keep trying there was a rush of new excitement and energy into our relationship and I felt hope which had been missing for a while. During our brief separation I had started flirting with an old friend online. Nothing overt or indiscreet but provocative, slightly veiled and exciting. My creativity flowed freely again in my emails to him and my imagination ran wild. When my husband and I decided to keep trying I didn't immediately inform this other man because I couldn't stand the thought of not having the excitement of that interaction in my life. The energy did eventually shift back into an appropriate realm but it wasn't really my doing and i knew that if given the opportunity, I would take things much further. My husband and I separated once more about a month before he was due to come back and again we decided to keep trying only this time I didn't feel as much hope and since that time I have felt that I have one foot out the door and can't really, fully invest in us. Upon his return the sex was great which relieved my fears that my newly awakened sexuality wouldn't translate into our marriage and we immediately prepared for a month long trip back to the States to see friends and family.

Thumbs Up Party

Today while driving my husband to work ELO came on the radio and my four year old son announced from the back seat that his two and a half year old sister was, "having a thumbs up party." Sure enough a glance in the rear view mirror confirmed that she was in full party mode, thrusting a thumb up on alternating hands in perfect rhythm. Not only was I impressed with her musicality but I was jealous that she could feel so much unbridled joy at 7am on a gloomy, cold Bavarian day. I had a million things on my mind and the weight of the screwed up world on my shoulders. NPR came on and summed up the VP debate. Then the generally depressing round of reporting on various world events. Then we're at the gate and I flash my ID to the guards and drive on into another world. Our Base has doubled in size in the last year and the number of single soldiers has more than doubled. At least it feels that way. Every where you look there are young men and women in their ACU's. Many of them are participating in 'exercises' and are carrying machine guns with helmets on and lower lips full of chew. My son calls out eagerly when he spots a gun and I think to myself for the umpteenth time- "How the HELL did I end up here?"

In June of 2002 I was living in NYC just managing to make ends meet and feeding off of the creative energy that abounds in that magical city. I was held up at knife point in the upscale bathing suit store I was working at and quit the next week. I was renting my own wing of an apartment in the upper west side of Manhattan from friends of a friends parents for $500 a month. Try finding that anywhere in the city. The same week I quit my job they told me their daughter and her new husband were moving back home and I'd have to find somewhere else to live. I didn't have any money saved so I had to leave the city. There's usually a silver lining and mine was that I reconnected with an old friend and casual lover and this time the chemistry was undeniable and unrelenting. He had already signed up with the Air Force and was about to leave. We consumed one another as new lovers do and then he was gone.... Over the next year I waited through basic training and then he went to tech school and we could talk and write letters again. He came home for christmas with this new wiry, muscly body and sadness in his eyes and my heart couldn't accept being without him. We decided soon after that visit to go monogamous and I went out to visit him on the Gulf Coast for valentines day. When I arrived at the small airport I didn't see him and started down the escalator to the lower level. A huge bouquet of yellow daffodils was thrust in front of my face about half way down and I felt his kiss on my neck. After some hemming and hawing and a summer spent in a tent so I could save money, I moved to his first duty station in Belleville ,Illinois. Now two things I had promised myself were that I would never work at a fast food chain or live in the mid west. And there I was. We lived in a tiny house off base and I got a job tending bar at a couple skeezy joints and he was working all kinds of crazy shifts. We made love two or three times a day most weeks, got in terrible drunken fights and started getting to know each other bit by bit. Six months into it I was pregnant. Being young and idealistic we decided to have the baby and get married. Then came the orders to Germany which we had both pushed for and when our son was 8 months old we moved across the ocean. Two months after arriving I was pregnant again and very nearly had an abortion but my husbands eagerness to have another baby rubbed off on me enough for me to change my mind.

That's the epidermis. The dermis is that I had quit my jobs once I became too sick from the pregnancy and I didn't have any friends in Illinois so my days were punctuated by the coming and going of my husband's little red car. I would loiter in front of our kitchen door window until I saw that flash of red. During the days I would invent errands for myself to get out of the house. I was for the first time since leaving home, fully dependent on someone and it didn't feel totally right. After all I certainly wasn't thinking about marriage and never really felt that stereotypical urge that women have to 'be taken care of'. I had left behind a very full and fulfilling social life and family support network and wasn't able to share my changing life and body. After the first baby was born I remember a lot of new parent bliss and the isolation became more bearable as my days were filled with the new wonders of a baby. I finally made a good friend with a baby around the same age who was as laid back as I and who could sink a glass of wine with me in between nursings. Then we moved to Germany and the next baby came which I really wasn't ready for. She was a screamer and I had a very busy toddler and most days felt exhausted and overwhelmed. I let the baby cry a lot and felt a lot of resentment towards her. Then I felt guilty because our bonding wasn't happening as effortlessly as it had with my son and I worried that she would be an unhappy person because I let her cry so much. Those were dark days. I didn't want to make love, kiss or even to be affectionate with my husband- that lasted nearly four years. I felt like a part of myself that had once been so healthy had sickened and died. The guilt was endless-knowing how much hurt and insecurity I was causing my husband sent me on a downward spiral. I never felt like I had enough for anyone let alone myself. Again I made one dear friend and this time she left me about half a year after my daughter was born.

Trying to insert myself into military life and the things that wives do has been like the old square peg in a round hole saying. The isolation got worse and the depression got worse. I had lived a prior life full of amazing friends, artists, musicians, thinkers, doers, questioning, seeking, creating and supportive people. Now my social life revolved around the occasional work function where none of the young 20 something single soldiers were interested in my mind or what I might have to say. I am a spouse and a mother and it stops at that. I felt myself slipping farther and farther away from an identity that I could be proud of. My marriage was falling apart and had been for a long time. I started to internally shoulder all the blame for this and all of my unhappiness. One night found me wailing and sobbing and a mantra escaped- " I hate myself, I hate myself.." I had one brief thought that everyone would be better off without me and that was it. I made an appointment the next day to see a doctor on base, sucked up my pride and asked to be put on an anti- depressant. I am of the opinion that Americans are over medicated and I had just read the report that the waste from Americans is full of by products from anti- depressants and is affecting the water life. But my husband was preparing to deploy for six months and I couldn't mess around- I was about to be a single parent and could not risk being that depressed. I asked to be put on Welbutrin because I had read that in some clinical studies it was shown to improve sexual disfunction which I hadn't been diagnosed with but I certainly wasn't functioning like I wanted to in that department. I started the medication and my husband shipped off. We didn't make love the night before he left and our parting was thick with sadness and relief.