Chaos
Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure. - Rumi
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you might need a prescription for this sort of whiplash
The table was loaded with the wreckage of the birthday breakfast. It. Was. A. Mess. Cold leftover scrambled eggs on several plates. Sticky syrup, half empty juice cups, chairs pushed back, cloth napkins scattered across the table top. My life felt exactly like that table. It was a crystal clear moment. This table is my life. A gigantic mess that I am left alone to clean up. _______________________ I think that’s a picture of what loneliness can feel like sometimes, you know. And while most of us are living lives that don’t stay in the lonely all of the time, I’m pretty certain we’ve all lived a…
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a weekend in review: or in fast forward
If life had a fast forward button, then this weekend was probably tuned to that setting. So. Much. Happened. It was a weekend threaded with tradition and new. Maddox spent the weekend with us. He was such a sweet little companion – toted back and forth and here and there – with a startlingly great attitude for a toddler completely thrown off his routine. He likes us all pretty much. But he’s downright obsessed with Aunt London. Maddox stayed with us because his family was gaining a new member. Greyson Porter arrived safe and healthy this weekend too. A full cheeked little fella with dark eyes and…
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divorce diaries. entry 5.
I’ve almost forgotten what the routine Used To Be. Almost forgotten what it was like to grocery shop with a partner. The Divide and The Conquer. I’ve kind of grown accustomed to being The Only One. Some days it almost feels as if there never was a Before. (Some days.) Some days I just groove and strut along and forget I was not always in charge of every meal and all the yays and all the nays. And then some days it feels as if I am living with a severed limb. The ghost pains. The crushing weight of No One With Whom To Confer. Should this be allowed?…
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the divorce diaries – entry 6
I am living in this tension between two cultures – two ideas of right and wrong and normal and broken. This wild and difficult juxtaposition between the views of divorce. On the one hand, you have: The Huffington Post Facebook Television Movies Your second cousin And all of these sources tackle the topic of divorce in about the exact same way: This is just the way it is. It’s normal. Cut out the toxic people in your life. You deserve to be happy. You need to take care of you first. Be your own boss. Follow your heart. The kids will be fine. Monogamy is outdated. Kids are resilient.…
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the next new normal
Night has become All Tricky again. (It’s ever-shifting, this Grieving. The Transitioning. The One Day You Are Surprised By What You Thought Was Already Conquered.) In most ways, it’s helpful that it’s been a gradual process, with This and That appearing Here and There. I couldn’t have carried all the weight at one time. Piece by piece was suffocating enough. The quiet after midnight. The knowing I should be asleep but the unable to will it to happen. I’m always just wanting to find something to do until I am so tired that I just crash into bed. The Lying Still Alone In The Dark is not my favorite…
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What To Tell Your Friends When They Tell You Their Marriage Is Broken
Maybe I’ll be writing about stuff I don’t want to write about until the day I die. That’s probably kind of true. Last month I wrote a post about Helping Your Friends Through Sad Stuff. You guys – why is there always SO MUCH sad stuff? If it isn’t in the news (and it is ALWAYS in the news) then it’s on your living room sofa and at the coffee shop and it’s showing up in your gmail account and dripping into you phone via text and emoticons. A lot of bad stuff goes down. At church last weekend there were some guys wearing t-shirts that said “share your…
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I still hate divorce
There’s a word I hear people use when they talk about divorce. Freedom. Whether they are implying a freedom for the person leaving the marriage or a freedom for the person being left, I don’t even know. Or a freedom for both people if they are both looking to leave their marriage. But I tell you what, from my vantage point, it does not feel like freedom to me. That seems like the wrong word choice. It’s not freedom. It’s a different word entirely. More like bondage. All of the best parts of marriage are dead to me now: intimacy, partnership, mutual friends, shared history, someone else to make…
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scars. and healing.
My eyebrow has this little sliver of a space where no eyebrow grows. It’s a scar. From nearly forty years ago. I fell right out of my bunk bed when my younger brother was born and he was handed over my crib and I was forced to move to a top bunk bed. I fell right out of that bed in the middle of the night, directly hitting the hard wood floor far below on my wee little eyebrow. I needed middle of the night stitches and my head still bears the mark and my memory carries the story and it’s all right there, written on my face in a…
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would you do it all over again?
Would you do it all over again? It’s the kind of question your brain asks itself at 2:26 in the morning after you’ve watched an unrealistic romantic comedy and the screen has gone black and the volume has gone mute and the only sound you hear is the shaking and whirring of the uneven ceiling fan. Would you do it all over again? It’s the sort of impossible question that barely deserves a response but there’s this glimmer and sliver of your heart that feels compelled to think it through. No one is really asking. You know you’re only talking to yourself. But your self is still kinda curious and…
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Three Truths To Tell My Child, For When They Feel Sad
Some days one or more of my children falls under a funk. A chunk of reality, coupled with a burst of hormonal fluctuation, and the bottom drops out and a stormy sea rocks their world. I understand. I have felt the heavy burden and I have been subdued under its trance and I was twelve once and I understand lonely and fear still wants to be my friend and our world is very very full of both real and imagined dangers and disappointments. I’ve sat by their tear stained pillows and held their still tender hands and I’ve cried tears as they’ve cried tears. I imagine it is a scene…
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just a tad too raw for comfort
When the encouraging words aren’t there, sometimes I just type all the bad ones. (and there are so many bad ones, you guys.) At the end of the day, when I am sitting under my yellow blanket and staring at the screen, there are times that I just see a lot of empty. And I write blog posts that will never ever see the light of day. And maybe I talk to myself. (Just a little.) There are days when I cry. And there are days when I can’t even remember what I would be crying for. Days of Numb and days of All The Feelings. It’s all so much…
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why i wasn’t planning to write tonight
Last night I slept about four hours. I mean, it was the perfect combination to sleeplessness. Piper was not feeling well. She was quarantined to the living room just in case and there was no way that little blondie would have made it through the long night flying solo in the living room. We just have the one sofa. The one sofa upon which the eight-year-old was lying. The one sofa that is not an extra long sofa, but a sofa of more moderate lengths. At first I sat there, working on some editing projects, feet tucked up under myself, quilt on top of both the Willow and the Mommy. It…
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a little weekend whatnot and such
Some seasons of life feel like they are rolling through via slow motion. Some do not. Right now everything feels a bit like Fast Forward with the windows rolled down and the radio turned up really loudly. It’s not bad. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s busy. That’s what I am saying. (And. I know it can change faster than I can flip to a new radio station. So there’s that.) This week we had a handful of fun family moments that really should each have their own blog post. (Who knows? Maybe they still will.) My brother and his family are visiting from New Zealand and I cannot get…
