the order of things

I have to be in a very "strong" place to do what I am doing today, which is basically turning my living space upside down.

It causes one to "take stock" of where one is at in life. Photographs, memorabilia (like movie tickets), baby blankets, BB's rolling around underfoot (still) and other odd knick-knacks suddenly rear up and hit you in the face like a baseball bat being swung by the likes of Babe Ruth. (Nope, not old enough to actually even remember what the guy looked like, but still he's an iconic baseball name so I will keep it as a reference.)

I had a plan, once. My plan failed. I failed. Having a plan and executing the same wisely are two entirely different balls of wax. I had the one but had not been trained, nor counseled, nor schooled in the other.

Now I am older, hopefully a tad bit wiser, though we could likely argue that and I look around and wonder, what next...

My youngest has moved in with his father. I am not being overly dramatic when I tell you that this event has broken my heart (it's getting very used to a regular and constant battering, yeah, welcome to parenthood and life in general [sometimes]).

I have always been acutely aware that my children were to grow up and go have lives of their own. That is the end result of good parenting... but, this particular event came after promises made that it never would (and I don't believe I solicited those promises, but I may've) and this event has come three years, too early, again according to "my plan", he is only 16 and only a sophomore, and I should get to have him for his last three years of high school, and then he can go off and live his life starting at college. But, as I said, mine is a failed plan.

As a result my apartment has been the recipient of a very inclusive overhaul. I have been "cleaning"... and crying. Last weekend my eyes were so puffy I looked "exotic". Today I found baby blankets, and a bag of "saved for more than a decade" artwork and it occurred to me, this time quite clearly, that I had always expected to have another child, and that this was now no longer a possibility, (trust me on this one... I look quite young [for my age] but child bearing is sadly behind me now).

So, I've been "moving in" to my apartment. I know it sounds odd, my youngest just moved out.

I had been hoping to... make a home at some point. I haven't been successful at doing so since the house we inhabited on Viscanio. Moving from that little bungalow, and it was teensy tiny and very, very small, also broke my heart. I knew it was the "end of an era". And, now because my youngest has moved out, I am moving in to this apartment. Mind you I''ve, we've been living here for at least five years, and of late I had been shopping for something bigger. But it turns out the cost of this one is mostly comparable. And, moving is quite expensive.

But, back to the point, I am now moving in. Tossing unwanted stuff. Tidying, shredding old papers... letting go... of hopes, dreams, illusions, desires, details. You name it I'm letting it go... and I'm still crying. I know and have always known that when my children go out into the world and live there on their own, away from me, that I will miss them... daily, constantly, and enormously. You see I like them, I adore them, I admire them. I think they are neato-keen, cool people. And, I know, I have always known, that they must do this. They must go and be themselves.

I will always hope that they will come and visit, and hang out, and linger, often. And, I will hope and strive to be someone they can feel similarly about. Then, perhaps, my plan will have been a success after all.

sunny side o' the street, but bring your umbrella

It's funny, I am naturally a "sunny" personality.

You'd never know it to read what I've entered into this thus far piece of life living bliss, but I do not lie when I tell you that "Miss Mary Sunshine" was a moniker hung upon my being some years back by a before her time "gothette" who shall herein go unnamed... but I will say this, the years have dimmed my unusually sunny disposition, as have those who have stared me down, working to diminish my zest for life, and I know you'll say "don't give them the power" but y'know I am only human, and actually a sensitive one, the degree I'll leave for you to decide.

Tonight, through a film, I met a kindred spirit, at least as Meryl Streep has presented her, me and Ms. Childs have alot in common... for one thing her love of food, is rather like my love of, well, those I love. My Rrrrrrllll, my boyzes... and those many others for whom I would get what I call my "fits" or my "must see" moments, i.e. when my sister was small and therefore had no real "life" of her own, I could call on her at my mother's house at will and on whim.... I would suddenly realize that I missed her terribly and I would call my mother and say "I am having a 'sisa fit, can I come take her to Chucky Cheese for the afternoon?" rarely would my mum say "no" and so the "need" to see my wee sister would be satisfied. But, I relish time with those I love exactly the way Julia seems to have. And, when they break my heart, I am inconsolable.

Still, I love people and those I love best, I remain fascinated by.

might as well be mine own...

Misfortunate event's will soon brew in your life. a misunderstanding or a violent passion will start to tear apart your love life, or relations with a loved one. A loss of balance in a relationship will occur. Love is turning bad, unless you adhere to the warning's and find the appending problem.

Not really for reading - ever.

I do not know how to close this out. How to keep it private. I simply need a place to put my thoughts.
I'd prefer that nobody I know ever read them. I do not care if someone I do not know reads through, because in that case my thoughts are distant and unattached from the reader, and therefore can do no harm. My intent is to never do harm.
But Nik has said I am poison, and I am beginning to agree with him. I am starting to feel poisonous. Rank, rotting, and deteriorating.
If I put these thoughts here in my blog, then I do not have to worry about organizing my notebooks, or sorting or losing or having them go up in smoke. If I place my thoughts here, they do not have to be moved... or do they? perhaps at some point.

I have failed my sons. Completely. I thought I would be setting a different path and providing alternative ways of being of experiencing life and love. But the home I have instead provided, is depressed and disorganized, melancholy, and sorrowful.
It is not full of joy. It is not full of hope. It is a sad and sorry place.

I do not blame John for leaving us, I want to flee as well.

I do not know how to fix it, I do not know how to fix me. Now the IRS is "auditing" me to determine my actual Head of Household status. Can I actually "claim" that status. I do not know if the SP turned them on me. I would not put it past him, and of course, it is curiously incidental that at the very time I ask him to afford me the ability to continue to claim John, that when I tell him I could then go to court, that all of a sudden the IRS "audits" me, and John determines to go and live with his father. Now, with his decision to make his home elsewhere, I will forever lose Head of Household status.

Fortunately I completely qualified in '08, but now that John is going to live with his father, I will never again qualify.

I can't seem to catch a break, and end up only more and more broke and broken. I am uninspired in my job. I have lost my enthusiasm, well, in fairness this time 'round that flame was stamped out, trod roughly over and certainly no where near fanned, or protected.

I am tired, I am done. I do not know how to proceed. I know I am supposed to "keep going" but I have lost my zest, my vigor, my dreams, my hopes, my fancies.

I really do not know where to go nor do I know what to do. Nor to whom I can turn without simply sucking the life from them. I despair, and have no idea how I might proceed. That is my dilemma. Is this "mid-life" crisis? I do not know.

Silence

is not golden, nor preferred, nor anticipated, oh, me - what a fewl.

on my own

that someone who keeps me tethered, centered, focused on the here, is gone away, far and many miles.
it will be weeks until i am able to again hold him.
last time he returned, it felt like we were strangers, and it took days to feel comfortable again, and maybe i never quite felt comfortable again.
so, i am taking time, this time to work on me.
no waiting by the computer-phone to iChat and hang on his every oz. of being.
this time I am trying to focus on others, and, on myself.
i do not know how that will turn out and what that will be like for him or for me.
i don't know if he will even actually miss my hanging on every oz. of his being, or if I will.
we will see, and time will tell.

Crisis

I hate being "typical" but I am once again, 150 lbs.
I haven't weighed this amount since I was a miserable married woman.
I can't figure what to do with the rest of my life... my home is a mess, my car is a mess.
I am taking a test I am completely unprepared for and while I have faint-heartedly attempted study, and in all fairness only since Wed. of this week with impending test only 3 full study days away, the means by which I am attempting and the nature of the method are ill suited to my ways of learning.
Not to mention i am completely uninspired.
I have no addictions, save perhaps food, and that may be an only when frustrated and/or bored issue. Hard to say, I've certainly slimmed down before, once with lots of help from the folks at Lindora, and twice entirely by my own devices.
I am too fat to phuque, and almost too fat to exercise.
I have, it seems, once again, cut off my own head.
How can I pull myself up out of this particular valley.
I am not interested in actually becoming an attorney.
I have so much more interest in teaching, and can not figure how I steered myself completely off course.
Now the question is, "will I be able to pick up those reins and begin fresh, yet again?"
My sis-in-law, an insightful if morose human being, stated that she dies again, and again, and I completely connect with this thought. I have no friends, no one who will really miss me when I go, save for my BF, and my two sons.
BF is a pretty incredible guy, a genius, and wonderfully observant and savvy to the state of being human, but not much of a "savior" if you get my drift. He was far more excited by me when I was at the top of my game, and delighted in my company, lusting after me physically, (and showing me off the way guys do when they are thrilled to have you on their arm).
But as I often lament, I wouldn't show me off why would I expect him to have a lower standard? He's sweet and asks why I'm knocking his girl, but we both know the situation is less than desirable.
Too, I feel as though I've cut out my vocal chords, that I've completely lost any opportunity to have a voice at all in the world.
And, then I consider Facebook, and Twitter, and all the blog sites out there, and realize we are, each of us, after leaving our mark, having our identity carry on and be acknowledged by our fellow beings as having been somehow significant, wherein I again wonder what it might feel like to be a simple, and quite tiny black ant.