Weird life place

Do you ever look around and think: Wow. Where the heck is this? I'm in that place right now.

So there's a lot of weirdness in my life. I'm doing the say at home mom thing, and the home schooling thing, and the regular life thing. I don't have a career in the traditional sense, I never did quite finish that college degree, and I spend more time than I'd like doing things like laundry. In the sum of it all, I'm not unhappy. It's just unexpected. Truth be told, I've been in this place for awhile so it's starting to feel less weird and more comfortable. But then, enter the current mood.

I feel apathetic. The kind of apathy that usually hits prior to depression. And I'm very... nervous. Yes, it's weird, feeling nervous about feeling apathetic. But there it is. I can't explain it other than that. If you can phrase it better, please do. I want someone to explain this to me. Life isn't bad. I just doesn't feel so good.

Lots of things are going on here. I'm tired. And I'm overeating. And I feel like I'm failing on multiple points. But frankly, these are things that are somewhat familiar to me. Here's a new one, or at least one I don't usually have to contend with: I feel sick at heart.

Some of the stuff that has gone on recently with my extended family has wounded me. I'm pretty sure that wound is still hemorrhaging. I feel I can barely acknowledge it, so I can't begin to treat it. There's this deep sadness in the center of my chest. I'm afraid to go near it. And I don't know who to talk about it with. And so at the center of my vortex is a power of destruction.

Loss, denial, pain, hope, fear, love - these things are all violently churning. I'm looking for a way to dislodge all of it without creating more chaos. So far, no path has been forthcoming. And that's why it is a power of destruction, not construction, because of the impending disaster.

Yeah, I know.

I only get over here randomly to make some whiny comment or generally talk without saying much of anything. But even that randomness may drop a bit, as I've gone and started two (yes, two) new blogs.

The new blogs are incredibly relevant to my life these days. Not that this one isn't. But we all must face the truth: I'm not writing any poetry these days, good or bad. So I'm going to spend some time sharing some things I actually am focused on.

I miss the poetry. There's no room in my brain and no inspiration in my soul for poetry right now. That will probably change sometime in the future. For now, I'm accepting and moving on.

So in fantastic 'net fashion, I've decided to clog the lines with even more typing of seriously micro-relevant proportions. I made that up.

I'm probably more active over here http://practicallyintelligent.blogspot.com/
or http://literatureresource.blogspot.com/

Hope to see you again soon....

And the wheel turns

Okay. In the spirit of honest communication I must admit that things aren't all that great right now. I'm chalking a lot of it up to a lack of regular uninterrupted sleep. There's a tiny voice in my brain that's laying the blame on the shorter days and impending freeze. Whispering, wondering if I'll somehow manage to make it through this winter without the interior darkness.

I think prayer is in order. Thanks.

Inopportune Timing

Two weeks ago, some fairly significant stuff went down concerning my siblings, father, and stepmother. We've reached a point where all parties are talking to each other in varying degrees (almost) so I guess it wasn't cataclysmic. It seemed cataclysmic at the time, but I suppose this is the nature of fairly significant things. Or my outlook upon them. Regardless of the label, the earth shook and the stars realigned and things are a little bit different now. I have hope that these differences will contribute to the greater good in the end.

But I try to err on the side of hope these days. Pessimism breeds ugliness. Wouldn't want me heart to freeze that way.

In the midst of these family issues, I made some resolutions. They haven't been tested so I won't waste my time here with them. Time will bear them out or wear them down.

I found out how... grown up, I guess, I've become in the middle of all this. And finding out how grown up I was had nothing to do with any of the family except in relation to time. And perhaps distraction.

I was fixing dinner and thinking about my resolutions. Fearing the cataclysm. Sick over the impending (I thought) chaos and tired of bearing the load of my family's craziness. I wasn't really focused on those onions I was chopping and as a result the knife slipped.

It was a big slip: I had to have 8 stitches to close the wound.

Immediately I went for the sink and paper towels to staunch the blood. The need for medical attention was pretty clear. And that's when my 'grown up' moment hit me: standing there watching my nice red blood drip into the white porcelain sink I thought: "I don't have time for this."

Hopefully, if it had been someone else's blood dripping down I would have found a wealth of patience, a deep well of compassion - or at least summed up a modicum of grace for that person. But for myself, I thought: "I don't have time for this." And I stood there lamenting the time it would take to be treated, to clean up the bloody mess, that I was now unable to finish fixing dinner, etc.

This train of thought is some kind of commentary on my life these days. As is the circumstances surrounding it. I'm sure it bears scrutiny but, alas, I don't have the time.

Organization?

So I went through some posts and added labels. I don't know who looks at this blog - besides myself and the people I pay to visit regularly - but for all of you, Here Are Some Labels!

No problem. It was a great time waster.

[Please take note that this post does not contain a label. That seemed... redundant.]

Pity the Fool

It's one of those days again. You know the kind... full of chocolate and self-pity. I'm looking around and trying to figure out what I've done and what I'm doing. My current responsibilities are so different from my list of "life dreams" that I don't even know what my goals are these days.

Yes, I've been to enough psychoanalysis to know that I don't know what my goals are because I don't have any. And the truth of that is more than a little frightening. I wake up in the morning and set the same goal: get through the day as successfully as possible. But this goal is meaningless because I don't have a definition of success and the daily goal is not related to a long term goal. Because (wait for it!) I don't have a long term goal.

In general terms, I can say that I want to raise my kids, be happy in my marriage, be satisfied personally. But those general things are entirely too vague to be considered goals. They are... intentions. It's very much like taking a test without a grading system - no way to judge the current standing and/or progress over time.

I did have goals, a long time ago. And the blunt end of truth is that I have avoided creating new goals. I have failed to achieve a lot of major goals and that failure hurts. Deeply. That hurt has discouraged me from seeking new goals.

Tonight is one of those nights that I look around and simply cannot believe that I did not graduate from college. But right now, pursuing that goal isn't terribly practical.

I could revise the past and say that my dreams were to be the "voice of reason" amid the chaos, that practicality feeds my soul. But that would be a lie. I'd like to think that at the very least I'm good at practicality, but I'm not so sure that's the truth.

Self-pity is an ugly thing so I try not to dip into it too often. Today is a weak day.

Garish, Loud

When I moved into my house I looked at the bare, white walls and cream colored carpet and felt garish. I was too loud for such a place;
I needed deep, dark, star-lit sky to cushion my being for the world.
At this house I can wander outside any time of day or night and be confronted with light chasing away the darkness:
The yellow cast of decorative street lamps take over for the fading sun and deceive the birds into believing that midnight is dawn.
I am often kept awake by the sound of early morning birds confused by human intervention. I toss seeds onto the sidewalk every now and again in reparation.
At this house I learned to live without grass growing under my bare feet; I hated every moment of it. I compromised with climbing vines reaching green leaves and colored blooms into the sky.
I have grass now in that small plot of dry dirt but I have to choose to remember to take off my shoes.
At this house I let go of my more flagrant choices and focused on the colors of the earth in deep season: forest green of summer, midnight blue, grey clouded days.
I feel more comfortable in this subtlety though the white starkness has given way to gentle colors and purposeful decor.
At this house I took time to grow with direct intention, following the graceful example of the house itself. Here I will learn to dance with time, lovingly and honestly. I have wrapped myself in the safety of a moonlit night.