Little Things

Today I helped my 76 year old girlfriend move into a new place.  CarolAnne hired movers, her friend/roommate Helen and her son, John, came to help too.  I went an hour early so she wouldn't get nervous and stressed out.

She moved to a lovely little trailer park in the foothills just outside of town. 

The movers were great.  A talkative black man named Marlow.  He's 50 and I'm pretty sure has done some prison time.  Very gentle and efficient man.  I liked him.  The other was Chris.  We're about the same age and he was the professional, planner, paperwork guy.  Also very gentle and efficient.  Both took small moments in their work to respect my friend when she spoke to them in her old lady way.  Marlow has a son in his 30's that lives in Florida, he doesn't see him as much as he'd like.  Chris has twin girls that are 10 years old and one is a Diva like her Mom and he seems mildly terrified of the future he's facing with them.

CarolAnne and Helen hit the Casino near-by for lunch after John and I left.  I am so happy for her.  She was fairly isolated where she was living.  At this new place she'll have a friend that is lively and fun and adventurous, a television to watch, German baking and cooking to do, and a pretty place to live with good neighbors.

Today was a good day.

I'm going to try to go back on Saturday to help them with some little things if they need me.

Oh, Helen mentioned several times she was going to marry her younger son off to me.  Gawd no.  His brother let me know he's successful but a flake.  Thank you John!

No thank you Mother Helen!  I'll just be your 'adopted daughter'. 

I have my little list of what kind of man I'd like in my life.  It's simple and worth waiting for.  I'm content to get to know myself right now.

Levels of Bitchi-tude

I can't stop laughing to myself.  My youngest son started to tell me something he was talking to his friend Stephanie about... the Stephanie he 'groped' and was then suspended two days last Thursday and Friday for... yep.

He then scrambled to let me know he was Complimenting me.

He said I have such deep levels of Bitchi-tude I could nag the flesh off of God and the Devil if I wanted to.

Why Thank You Difficult Child.

He takes after me though.  He has a real gift of making word pictures.  

I'm An Optimist

When the dust settles, and it is settling, I am still an optimist. 

I have been experiencing motivation!  My 76 year old client, and my ex-mother-in-law.  A few girlfriends, a play.

Our Town.  A high school production.  The first performance I went to, embittered and annoyed and reluctant.  I left affected.  I went again with my sons and my sister.  That message twice taking form at the end of the third act in cool blue stage lighting. 

My girlfriends, accomplished and self reliant, or on their way.  Each with great support systems, empathetic, encouraging.  My girlfriends, women I know, they go through hard times, they make it through hard times and come out stronger, wiser.  They embrace life with more zeal and confidence or they work to do so.

When I was younger I didn't have enough experience to know whether I had confidence or not.  I had youth, I had Moxie through blind energetic youth.  I'd like to have that back again.  Wouldn't any of us that have come this far looking back?  I have enough wisdom, not much but enough, to not want to look back on this time down the line with regret and wish I'd embraced it better. 

I have a Mom and a client/friend, both in their mid-seventies.  They can touch their toes! I can't.  I can't!  I used to be able to.

Something clicked within.  A little bit of anger, a lot of quiet determination coupled with wisdom. 

I have let things slip in the last year and a half, probably longer.  Much longer. 

I am starting slowly.  Stretching, reaching for my toes, the floor.  Getting Limber.  I am shocked how tight I am in my frame, particularly my back.  That is what surprised me the most.  It's like I am corseted to the point of being immobilized, suffocated.  It's like I am being tightened and tightened and tightened.  The stretching is helping.  I haven't forgotten what I learned years ago.  Again I am taking it slow.  I want this to last.  I want to change fundamental things.

I find it interesting how just stretching seems to be a little bit of a stress release. 

It's time to start living again.  I'm finally ready to move forward with myself for myself.

I remember a year and a half ago I wanted to know how long this would take.  The mourning period, getting past loss.  Not just of John, and my family...but my ideas of how my life was supposed to be.

I still can't answer that.

I do believe it's never too late to embrace life with intent.

Sometimes it is difficult when I feel lonely and crave intimacy.  I wonder if I am letting moments pass me by, opportunity.

Then that need passes.  I accept it is there, allow myself to acknowledge how much I want it too...but I realize this space in my life, this place I am in right now is just as important, vital to my unique experience.

I like certain things about my life as much as I recognize things I would like to work on.  I am trying not to see those things I'd like to work on as 'work'.  I feel overwhelmed sometimes, clearly, but I stretch and take a moment to be in the moment, feeling the strain of my muscles and a gentle relaxing in the pull.  I remember to breathe and the things that overwhelm me seem more manageable.

How could I not be optimistic?

The Avengers is on TV.  It's very distracting.  I have a little bit of a headache.

I'll be 43 years old at the end of the week. 

The Terrible Reality of This Single Parent

Hello, I am the Mother of two teen aged sons, 17 and almost 14. 

I have to admit, thus far junior high might be the death of me.  The stress of having a male child in junior high school is just terrible.  My oldest son had really inappropriate masturbatory habits, was flaky with his school work, and lied about almost everything. 

My almost 14 year old...exactly the same.  In fact, my youngest has felt the need to up his brothers terribleness and he is, as yesterday afternoon, suspended for two days.  Was he looking for a five day weekend?

Being the fool that he is, he is suspended for touching his 'best friends' breasts.  All fun and games until she is uncomfortable enough to tell on you to get you to stop.  As usual, he didn't bother to consider the consequences.  The disciplinary adviser let my son know, while he doesn't anticipate this happening again, my son will be speaking to a police officer and arrested if he harasses anyone this way again.

Right now he is writing his friend a letter of apology.

I get it.  He's stupid, impulsive, and didn't think.  The disciplinary adviser does not believe my son was being intentionally malicious or abusive, just stupid, impulsive, and thoughtless.    

I am upset with my son.  I love him absolutely even though he has been a major pain in the ass for years.  ADHD is no joke, coupled with a sensitive personality and high intelligence, it's stressful on levels I wouldn't wish on anyone.

Support would be nice.  Finding it is beyond difficult. 

The most difficult aspect of parenting my son is the second I feel I can relax, the moment I feel things are getting on track, it's an email or a phone call from school about his flaking out on his work, or not paying attention in class.  Sometimes it is petty, and like yesterday, sometimes it is serious.  It ranges from lesser, to middling, to serious.

I need it to stop.  I need things to even out.  I need balance.

This morning we called his father.  He discussed what our son told him over the phone.  He complained about his not having a very influential father/son relationship with our boys.  He said it's been that way 'since our divorce'.  He complained how the boys never call him or ask him for advice.

I can't help but think, they aren't 30!  They are self-absorbed teen aged boys trying to bridge the gap between being children to being adults while being inundated with mixed messages, expectations, and trying to navigate socially.

I suppose that is why it is hard for me to be truly angry with my son.  Is that my lack?  I am not angry enough?  I was assured by the Disciplinary Adviser that I am unlike most parents he encounters.  I care, I am doing all I can, it's not my fault my son is acting like a fool.  Not his exact words.

I don't know.  I carry a heavy burden of guilt.  My sons father seems to feel it is our children's job to pursue a relationship with him.  I have let him know so many times it is Our job to throw that line out again and again and again and again.  That they will eventually come around to wanting an adult relationship with us but that right now they are navigating their own lives more and more.  I asked him, 'How often did you consult your parents or did your parents know about all aspects of your private world as a boy or young man?'

He seems hard pressed to place experience and perspective of his youth, even of his life now, onto his understand his own sons.  He's ineffective in co-parenting and guiding his sons.  Our relationship has improved greatly over time because I require little of him.  He briefly complained that he doesn't get called unless there is a problem.  He has shown time and time again that he isn't interested in their accomplishments.  He might have shown up, when he was living here, but he was always in a hurry to leave.  He loves sports but instead of sharing and funneling that love to his sons he merely let them watch him participate.  When they were in sports he'd attend and leave early.  Once when our oldest tried playing football his father failed to notice his sons uniform was 5 sizes too small.  John was really disgusted by that.  Instead he informed John of the problem and left the field.  However, when our son found he didn't like football, or team sports in general (I think because he was afraid of failing the team and letting them down) and decided he was more geared to individual sports such as golf and cross country, his father insisted that he finish the football season (again, while not supporting his son at practice or games) and wanted him to sign up again the next season!  I agree our son should finish what he started, and he did.  He saw it through.  There was no way I was going to force him to sign up again.  His father wanted it, he said, because he always wanted to play but his parents wouldn't support him doing so.

Why do parents do that?  Burden their children with their unrealized school day dreams?

I simply want my sons to be happy.  To try things they are interested in, determine what their own dreams are.  I want them to learn these lessons, wonderful or painfully difficult now, while it is safe and they are boys, before they are required to be Men.

I am afraid and filled with guilt all the time that I have not, and am not, doing right by them.  That my stupid choices have created these difficulties.  Had I not chosen their father... had I not gotten divorced... had I not chosen John... had I not stayed with him so long... had I focused on my education when I was younger... made better choices... been a better mom in all the fall out... seen more, understood more, taken better action, been smarter, found help sooner, been a better protector...

I suppose that kind of thinking is like an acid.  It eats away at a person and weakens them.

My oldest seems to be finding a groove for himself.  I don't agree with every decision he makes or is making, but he does seem to be try to make some decisions, to find his own path.

We all eventually face those decisions, live our own lives.

I believe my sons and I will get past this moment and move on to other moments, good and happy, struggle and strain.

I'm just ready for some smoother sailing.  I am so very tired of the storm.

California Sun

I love it here in California. 

I'd like to be out in it.  Driving with the windows down, listening to songs that tell stories with intricate drums, steel guitar, singing along.

I have a wanderlust.  Never too young, never too old.

Car and windshield covered in dust.

Warm California sun on my shoulders and the side of my face, where that freckle next to my eye keeps getting darker and darker.

My sunglasses making the road ahead bright and clear.  I love that shining ribbon of highway and the sparkling ocean that just goes into the sky on and on and on.

I could drive forever.  I could drive with these memories and make more.

Those Old Threadbare Thoughts.

The title here started with a song off of a disk a friend burned for me many years ago.  All the songs were meant to open my eyes...

One song had a line, Look What The Cat Dragged In.

Something about old ragged memories.  I could be more specific with title and artist but I need to get this out before leaving for an evening client in about 45 minutes.

I found another disk, in my CD's.  It was a copy disk of old documents from another computer.  I found some great pictures, songs.  I haven't changed all that much, except I am a few pounds curvier (not much btw, but I'll admit I'd love to be back to that...) and my hair is only slightly different.  I was much sexier.  Now there is something in my eyes that looks forced, guarded.

I found a PDF of txt messages of John.  A woman, Tiffany, made it with every bit of her chart making OCD skills.  She'd done it to essentially torture herself, me, and prove John had said he'd loved me more times than he'd said it to her.  There were a few other women messaging him too.  I was so innocent.  So in love.  So naive.  So, so, so stupid.  That won me the status of 'legitimate' girlfriend.  I was the one the family met... ...

I kind of feel sick. 

Yet, it's a little interesting to find it.  I haven't made him into a saint in his death.  I've worked hard to keep my thoughts and memories honest.  It is so confusing to have all this conflict within me.  Good, and so often bad.  Of course time softens the bruises and the scars age like an old road.  Things can grow over them when they are unused and faded... repaved with new material.

My chest cavity feels dizzy and pressed down.

I think maybe we find things as we are meant to sometimes. 

I need to forgive myself.  I need to move forward. 

I try to.

Right now, I don't know how.

Just keep moving on.