January 21-30 - Page 2

[spacedog]

Falling apart

There are two boxes sitting by the door, two big boxes. The cats have started using them as scratching posts. This is an improvement from using the wood trim, I’ve already given up hope for our security deposit, then again I’ve never gotten one back. On top of the boxes there are three, yes three bags of garbage. The cat litter smells horrible, but that’s not my job so I don’t do anything about it. I guess I figure if I do, it will just be one more bag on top of the boxes.
Random things all over the floor. A party hat from my mother in law to put in our daughters time capsule. We’re running out of light bulbs, it seems like everyday a new light burns out. Maybe tomorrow I”ll wake up in the dark. At least if its dark I wont notice the cockroach family that has joined us. My fiancé seems to think they aren’t that bad but I fear they have built a condo behind our sink, and invited their cousins. So I try to keep the kitchen clean, put the garbage in bags to it can sit above the boxes. The other day I found one in the living room Is the cat carrying them around. I heard that cockroaches like cat food, maybe they think it’s the bus stop. At least my daughter can’t crawl yet. I don’t know why we have them. Well I do but I don’t. I’m a messy person, I always have been. I have grown countless kinds of molds in my day, maybe even found some cures for a disease or two. One time I had a fruit fly epidemic.. They wouldn’t go away for weeks, I cleaned and cleaned and they just keep coming out of the woodwork... Since then I am forever fearful of fruit flies Then I got pregnant, I turned over a new leaf tried being cleaner. Things are extremely cleaner then they have ever been but I have cockroaches. I'd like to blame them on the neighbors, maybe they are the dirty ones. Theres only a few, its not really that bad but I fear the day Nora starts to crawl and decides to try one for a snack. The baby goes to bed and I clean up the house, but the next day it looks as though I haven’t done a thing. I try to clean during the day, but then I feel like a bad mother for not spending time with my baby. Precious time that is fading each day as she gets older. I want to hold her all the time, and I do. But it still doesn’t feel like enough. Even if I pick up after myself we have clutter upon clutter. I don’t know what to do with it, I’m starting to wonder where its coming from. How do I produce so much garbage? What do I do all day?

[Turtle Woman]

The story that I most need to tell is about a young girl I used to know. She had desire and potential. Sometimes she knew what she wanted. She had dreams and goals. She was full of innocence. She was full of life and love.

The story that I most need to tell is full of pain and ugliness. It’s a long and confusing story. I thought could never happen. Not to that young girl I once knew. I wish I could remember what she looked like. I want to see every detail. What was her body like before motherhood took hold. What was her mind like before the pain took hold. How did she talk, smile, walk and laugh?

The story that I most need to tell is one I can’t remember in whole. So many missing pieces stuffed away. I don’t want to remember. I need to remember. I know they are there somewhere deep in her being. They have to be there. There are knots in her body and scars hidden deep in her soul. I fear the memories are lost. I worked so hard to forget them. Do I really want to find them? They make me sick.

The story that I most need to tell she refused to write down. She feared someone reading it. She feared someone seeing the pain and ugliness. She pretended they knew nothing. She feared the truth and life slipping away. She feared looking back and having to believe this could possibly be her story. The permanency of ink on paper was too much. It was easier to keep pushing everything to the back of her mind. Shove it deep. Wounds scaring over. One on top of another. There are some pieces she wrote when she could not contain the rage and pain. It had to come out. She feared one day leaving this legacy for her children. They would see all she had allowed and done to survive. Or maybe the story would become theirs.

The story that I most need to tell is full of pride. She needed to prove that she knew what was best for her self. That she could take care of her self. She was right. She could do anything. She could face the odds and win. She knew what was best. What a stubborn girl. Her pride almost killed her.

The story that I most need to tell is how I lost that girl. She could not hold on. She slowly disappeared. Her identity slowly ripped away. She did not listen to the small still voice inside because she was taught it was someone else and she wanted to reject him. She would not listen to those that really loved and adored her. The slow rotting away of her self became too much though. The pride was not enough to stay anymore. Her life became so transparent she could see it in the reflection of everyone’s eyes. She had to face the truth.

The story that I most need to tell is how she survived. She looked and found there was not much left of her and she was taking the innocent ones down with her. She took a bold step. She left. She picked up the pieces. The voice was there and it was hers. Her knowing. Her intuition. Still there. She found she wanted to listen. She found strength and wanted to live and heal. She wanted motherhood to be what she dreamed. She wanted to love and be loved and she is.

The story that I most need to tell is about my self. Are you still there?

I need to tell my story to teach and protect so others will be spared.

[joro]

Laundry

My whole entire laundry routine has been dissrupted! And I survived it! It is so funny how a little thing like the dryer dying, and the in-between four weeks ( with a few trips to the laundrymat ) of getting another dryer, can upset the balance of clean clothes placed in their tucked away spots, versus the chaos of overflowing laundry baskets and dirty/wet towels piled here and there! So when the new dryer arrives ( the new-used dryer ), I, as soon as possible , start a load of laundry. Aaah, it feels so good to clean up some of the clutter. All is well until an hour into the "dry" cycle, and my clothes are not dry! They total out dry at an hour and a half, this cannot be. I adjust the gas line and do another load to be sure. Yup, something is not quite right, Come to find out the ignitor is out ( this is another two week process ). I am very careful this time to wear my clothes as long as is sensory possible. I am happy to say the dryer was fixed today -- by my significant other. This is a big accomplishment and very sexy thing from a man who rarely fixes anything! I am so proud of him. Yes, today life is good, I can do as much laundry as my heart desires, and my kids papa is my hero! Peace and blessings.

[Autumnschild]

I grieve for all that I have as I watch it slipping away right before my eyes. My life I give for the love of my children. I cry for these moments spent together, these precious moments when I belong only to them, and they to me. Could we not spend eternity this way, nestled together in this warm safe place? I grieve for each passing moment that brings me closer to being further away. I should be cherishing these moments...yet, I grieve.

Change is something I have always embraced. Change meant that things would be different. Things could be better. Now I see that I have all I have ever wanted and change can only take that away from me. Please help me to see the light at the end of this dark tunnel I have yet to enter. I peer in apprehensively and see only darkness. I see all that I am about to lose.

I grieve for the love of a man I once knew. I sit across from him now, looking into his eyes, searching for something I recognize but he is not there. It is his face. The full lips and the craggy nose, the big brown eyes that seem not to see me. The longer I gaze into those eyes, the more I notice that the colors seem to run together, blurring out of focus. He wants me to go. It would be easier that way, then he could turn away and say that we left him. He wants us to let him drown.

Sometimes there is no right or wrong. The line becomes blurred and distorted and things are not as they seem. I grieve for the days when things were simple. I grieve for the loss of this dream.

[lavender]

To love abundantly

Maybe it's because I have never really loved myself all that much. Maybe I didn't feel loved enough by those around me. Why don't I love as abundantly, as selflessly as what I suspect others may do? Why do I feel my love, faded and worn, slipping away like an old stretched out sock?

I always wished I was somebody else. Somebody dumber, somebody with longer hair, different teeth, shorter, taller, older... or younger. I have been fifteen different somebodies and I still flip through the catalogs and think, “They are different than me. They are happier,” even though I know it is all marketing.

If only it were a green summer day I'd be a happier person. If I could just get the filth off the floor and be able to call the house clean. No? Well at least just one room? Then I'll be happy. Then I'll have time to relax and...love.

Does he know the hours spent waiting? Does he know the years I've spent wanting him to hold me dear? I'm emotionally exhausted by trying to please, by trying to pull closer, to be the somebody that would bring his heart home from the work he used to love to do. Exhausted, I am. And I fear the love has run out because I just can't seem to find it.

Yesterday was another late night. I feel love when I am down there where I am wanted. I love the people I surround myself with and I love myself when I am there with them. I am constantly surprising myself when I go out of my way to talk to someone, to offer help or to ask for it. I have scattered the seeds of many friendships and carefully tend them. I cherish every one as I have always wanted to be cherished.

Then, home again. Home to the mundane everyday, what have you done, what haven't you done, and how was your day, dear? I try to be interested, friendly, excited even to hear about how the company's computer network is doing. I really do try, but I don't understand and I've heard about networks for years, these networks of machines. But what about people? What about me? Where was I on all those nights spent working late? I was here waiting, counting my love, plucking the petals off the daisy one by one until all that remained was a stem, straight and lifeless.

Will it grow back, the love? Or has it gone forever? How can I love so many so much yet be disappointed by the one I choose to spend my life with? How long can I hold out feeling this way? I see myself going through the years pouring my heart into notebooks, my full heart that needs release. The paper is a good listener.

[lavender]

laundry

from diapers and wipers
to holes in the knees
from soft cotton onesies
to white sweaty gis

my laundry my journal
of my children's growing
tossed in the washwater
ebbing and flowing

the same red shirt
with the holes in the cuff
the favorite blue jeans
pockets of stuff

tissues and nickels
and favorite rocks
become intermingled
with undies and socks

this home-sewn costume
now everyday wear
his warrior's tunic
is fighting in there

mud in the springtime
grass stains in fall
blood, paint and grape juice
I've dealt with it all

my laundry my journal
of my children's growing
constantly changing
ebbing and flowing