July 31, 2004
man, I'm exhausted.
Househunting is a pretty difficult thing, especially when it seems fruitless. Bussing about the city in the hot sun, talking to a zillion people, trying not to lose it, looking at so many notquiteright places-wondering if you can possibly squeeze yourself, your son, your art(kilns!) and life into such a tiny place...
I'm feeling pretty unravelled right now.
I had a driving lesson with Krista thursday evening. It was good. Drove all around Magnusson, did a bunch of reversing, zigzagging across the parking lot backwards-ouch, my neck hurts! It helped though. I'm getting better at making it inbetween the lines. She's a good and patient teacher with an eye for detail. I'm so glad to have her friendship and support, it's really helping me get through this trauma.
Friday, after more exciting house searching, Sharon came and got me, I drove around the hood, starting at Magnusson, then heading up Sandpoint for home-got beeped at for the first time-I guess 25mph was too slow?-Sharon was pissed-like: "Hey jerk, can't you see the bigass student driver sign?'
She's my hero.
Then she took me to her house, made me dinner, we snuggled up and took a nap and went to Catwoman.
It was terribly corny and stupid, but I'll put up with a lot to see a woman do some major ass-kickin'.
Tonight, Holly is taking me driving. I figure three times in three days should get me going strong.
July 28, 2004
Caution: Contents may burn.
I'm still here.
The 'wedding' weekend came and went and I didn't throw myself off any high buildings. In fact, on the big day, I was hangin' witth the kidlets. We walked up to Lake City to go to my chiropractor. Sam and Rowan showed me a whole new side of Lake City Way-I had no idea there were so many tarpits and spinning spikeballs(the poison kind) to be avoided, gosh, all this time I was narrowly escaping death and didn't even know it.
Even the omnipresent car dealerships provided much entertainment with all the huge balloon shadows becoming 'moving shade' in the hotass sunshine, and much discussion as to which color of moving shade was the best kind to step on, red, of course.
Kids rock. It felt good to have one on each hand walking up the street.
PJ Harvey is wailing in the background: "I learned to begggg, I learned to praaaaay, send me his loooooove!(she howls)lemme ride, lemme ride, just let me ride on his grace for a while..." Slow sultry angst-ridden music playing long and slow.
Love her! Nobody does painfully unhealthy, desperate wild, strongass crazy love, rejection and abandonment better. I put all three of her cds on tonight. It seemed like that kind of night. I just got back from yoga, where I felt decrepit, every crampy muscle in my whole misaligned body aches. I guess they ached before, but now I can feel them-every single one individually whining at me.
"Tuck you under deep salt water... " Gawd can she wail!
So, where was I? Oh yeah, we got back from the chiro app and my mom and Peggy took the kids blueberry picking.
Sharon came and got me and we set out for the lake. It was ritual time. Letting go time.
I brought all the pretty clay hearts I made for the wedding guests. all 60 of them, with their endless knots on the front and our names carved on the back.
It was focking crowded at Matthews Beach and I almost gave up for lack of privacy, but we spied this overgrown path and followed it down to sanctuary.
It lead to the lake, past a zen garden. The shore was completely private, we were surrounded and completely hidden by, a lovely bamboo grove and leafy foliage.
I set up an altar, prayed to Green Tara and took up the basket of hearts. I waded out into the lake, sticky mud sucking at my feet with each step I took. I set them free, one by one, releasing attachments and delusions and so much love and tears. Letting them go, letting them melt back into the mud.
It was good, but the poor ducks were sorely confused. Where the heck was the bread, and what the heck were all those little hard things that sunk like stones?
The last one, basket and all, slipped right out of my fingers, I caught the basket, but the heart was gone. Sharon and I laughed. I jumped in clothes and all.
We sat and talked on the muddy bank for a long time. She is a good woman and a blessing in my life.
Then I drove, all around to yard sales, crappyass yard sales... But hey, I drove to them!
The kids had harvested a shit ton of blueberries. We ate a bunch and I froze a huge bag.
I cried my eyes out that night. Feeling this...Nothing, this big gaping ABSENCE in the familiar place of my lover, my husbandinmyheartifnowhereelse.
"Lover had to leave me, cross the desert land... Turned to me his lady, tell me lover when... calling Jesus pleeeeeeese, send his love to me.... Begging Jesus pleeeehheese, send his love to meeehheeehhee..... How long must I suffer? Dear god I've served my time, this love becomes my torture, this love my only crime." You tell 'em PJ!
Sunday morning was cool, I made blueberry muffins and the kids frolicked in the pool.
Then Sam left.
And my calm assurance slipped out the door with him. I fell over the edge of the abyss.
Hey, I got a lot done while I was there(Seattle being a fairly good abyss to fall into) I interviewed a lady who was selling her massage business. I went downtown and got my massage and art business licenses, I applied for a position at New Seattle Massage, I went to a dharma talk on Capitol Hill. But...
Everything I do I want to share with him. Every time I see something funny, or sexy, or beautiful, I want to go home and tell him about it. Everytime I make a yummy meal I want to bring it to him, when I make art I want to show him.
What the hell do you do when someone is so dear to you, so much a part of your mental and emotional world, so deep in your skin and flesh and heart and soul and you can't, can't , can't even call him on the phone?
How do you let go? Every time I think I've gotten somewhere, I'm feeling better, accepting it, I find a new layer of attachment, of longing, of non acceptance under it waiting to knock the breath out of me.
It IS getting better yo. I'm not wallowing in it, really, I'm not. I know that this is the big wake up, the rug pulled out, the opportunity for me to emerge through it to somewhere much healthier, to find a new me who is stronger and healthier. Someone self-reliant, self-confident and self-possessed. Someone who knows her own self-worth, doesn't need to desperately seek it out in the Love! of others.
Yeah, I know this is good for me. As the father in Calvin and Hobbes says, it's building charactor. For real.
Sheer bliss... That's what the dharma song says. Be grateful for these times that shatter you and cause you to break out of your delusions, be grateful for pain and fear and do not run. Sit and practice and be present to what is there.
Yeah, uh huh. Alright. I will, I am, OK?
But Goddamn it, I'd rather be on my honeymoon, on the Oregon coast, with my sweet beast of a husband loving me so fierce and strong under the stars in the back of our Dakini car.
I'm working on it.
I guess that means it's healthy, healthy things always feel like shit at first.
It must be pretty damn healthy.
July 21, 2004
Last night I went to a dharma talk by Arinna Weisman.
It was a St Marks cathedral on Capitol Hill. I bussed there and sat on the green grass out front with a bunch of pretty, friendly women who were eating and stretching and talking, waiting for the event to start.
We trailed in and found cushions, sitting in a big semi circle around Arinna. She seemed thin and somewhat frail, but her spirit is so strong. We sat in meditation of 45 minutes and then she spoke about change, transformation, social and political justice and dealing with mental afflictions like anger, greed, jealousy and fear.
She grew up in South Africa, her parents knew Nelson Mandela. She told us a lot of stories, some about him, some about other heroic, and ordinary, people trying to bring about non-violent change in the world, perservering in the face of hostility, greed, violence and murder.
She told us about a prisoner(in the US) she had been writing to, who was arrested for selling a bag of pot. He was in prison for 10 years, got out, and tried to make a life for himself, but was broke and desperate and fell for a sting operation, got 25 more years for selling weed, again. She spoke of his despair and pain.
She told us about her teacher, Ruth, who spent many years as primary caretaker for her husband, an alzheimers sufferer-often displaying aggressive behavior towards her. She said she was amazed by the calm, patient, kindness her teacher attended the man with, every time, no matter how he acted. She asked how she did it and Ruth responded: 'but darling, what else is there to do?'.
She told us also, of her marriage dissolving and the terrible struggle she went through, trying to maintain, to meditate, but minute by minute falling back into the emotional turmoil of it.
She said some things that lingered in my head.
Judgement is delusion.
any and all judgements you or I make are delusory, fictitious.
Judgement is aversion talking, fear preventing us from seeing clearly.
All of the mental afflictions we suffer from are definately delusions. All the negative emotions that cause us so much torment- fear, anger, greed, craving, jealousy, pride-all those things are NOT real, they are stories that we make up about others, about ourselves.
We live in these stories, believe in them and suffer from them.
How do we drop the stories? Stop believing in them?
Mindfullness. Meditation. Cultivating the beneficial qualities of our minds, the gift of being human. The ability we all possess to just breathe and be, to perservere, to generate faith and compassion and generosity.
And to face the ugliness, the fear inside us, to feel the feelings underneath, to see the stories we have been holding onto so tightly inside our heads, our bodies, our minds, subconsciously telling over and over to ourselves, like a broken taperecording of failure and misery.
To drop them, bit by bit, as much as we can.
It was a good talk. And a good discussion after.
I look forward to the potluck tonight, with her and her Lotus Sister Sangha.
Not that y'all knew I was gone or anything.
It was a busy weekend/weekbeginning.
Saturday, I wrestled demons.
Yeah, I know theoretically you're supposed to stop struggling, face them, even invite them in, have a palaver, get ta know 'em and figure out what the hell is lurking under all that nightmare of pain and fear-but man, I'm no Milarepa, and so far it's all I can do to perservere, to fight, not to drown in the torrents of fear and loneliness.
OK, s'nuff of the emotional havoc.
Saturday evening, Sam, Ben, Rowan and I went to Sharons 30th birthday party. Girl had never thrown herself a party before and man did she ever do it right!
We took the disco ball up and set it in her amazing vaulted-ceilinged upstairs(her plac is spectacular(all big glass windows and pretty tree-lined views).
There was yummy food, organic beer, and really cool people(if you like accupunctural conversation, anyway). Sam and Rowan had a blast, blowing up balloons and running around chasing discoballblots...
Then, sunday, waythefucktooearly, Sam and I took a train to Vancouver to visit my dad.
Sam still loves trains. He is such good train company too. We brought books, madlibs and drawing supplies and snacked and read and colored airplanes in his new coloring book. We snuggled and gazed out the window.
Dad took us to the aquarium and Sam and I were amazed at how high Spinnaker, the dolphin, could jump-quite incredible-those guys are like torpedoes, all muscle and speed. Beautiful too.
It was scorchingly hot, yo. Even drinking lots of water, I felt dehydrated and illish.
Went to the old folks home and saw my granma Lilian. She, at least, is living completely in the moment, alzheimers has seemingly brought her peace. She barely recognises people, but it doesn't seem to fret her much.
Sam had a difficult night, waking up nauseous a buncha times. I took him to the bathroom and held him by the toilet, no puking though, he just said: "Oh, my poor tummy, my poor poor tummy" a few times. I brought him a bowl, held him most of the night, did some Reiki for his tummy.
Monday we met my sister Dana's brand new baby, Amanda. What a pudgy cutiepie-clearly no lack of nums(breastfeeding) going on there! Sam marvelled at how small her fingers were.
Then we went to Granville Is-one of Vancouvers prettiest places(and that's saying a lot, 'cause it's a very pretty city). Strolled about, listening to music, There were tons of rather good musicians in town for the folk festival.
Ate lunch at the open air market, while the kids fed(giggling), then chased(also shrieking with giggles), pigeons. Wandered along the cobblestone path by the harbor, watched seals watching us.
On the way back to Dana's we went through the waterpark and lingered there whilst Sam and his cousin Julie zoomed about together getting soaked and loving it. It's a really cool park-all kinds of fountains and sprinklers and fire hydrants(with hoses for kids to soak each other) and water cannons and...
You get the sloppy wet picture, right?
It was a perfectly lovely weekend. I wish I could have been more cheerful, my family sure was trying to be sweet and comforting, but I'm not terribly good at dissembling. I can keep it together(most of the time), so I'm not all falling to pieces in front of Sam and everyone, but being/acting happy when I'm so NOT, that is definately not one of my gifts.
So I was pretty gloomy, I'm afraid. It was just such a huge contrast for me between this time and last time... When I went up there feeling happy and proud, with my fiance at my side, our strong love in my heart and all my dreams still possible...
It's a hard thing, letting go.
July 14, 2004
Cooked up my first garden zucchinis earlier this week, sauteed with garlic and served up with baked chicken and greens.
There's nothing like going out to the yard and harvesting all the veggies and herbs you need for dinner. Everything tastes better when it's fresh off the vine.
Today, the very first red-ripe tomato! Yum.
Soon, we'll be rolling in brilliant orange and red cherry tomatoes... That, to me is the grandest moment of any garden.
I dug the gnarly weeds out of the ol' garlic bed. Now I've got a lotta space... Wonder what I'll plant now?
I also unearthed Sams sandbox. It was thigh-high in grass and morning glories.
OK, I'm off to bed, to my pile o brandnew fantasy books.
brushes against my feet as I type, Kaya merwls, looking for love.
Nate took me to Third Place Books for lunch, where I stocked up on some fantasies to escape into for a while.
Someone told me I ought to check out The Princess Bride(one of my favorite movies) , that the book is even better, so I got that, and a new Gayle Greeno-my current fave, so cool, I didn't even know she had continued her Ghatti series... Three more books! Unfortunately, they only had the next one in line, so I'll have to scout out the first book of the second trilogy, or start in on it out of order!
Then I got a book almost sheerly for the cover art, the book looks interesting, but the cover completely won me- a strong, gorgeous, firey amazon queen leaping through the air, brandishing double blades, with a broad grin of supreme confidence and good humor. She's my new bedside hero.
Speaking of heroes, after Third Place, we went and saw Spiderman II, which was immensely fun. I have a serious soft spot for noble, tormented heroes, even comic book ones.
Now I just gotta see Catwoman-cats, cleavage and girls kicking butt, what's not to like?
More driving around Magnusson, this time with Krista's excellent guidance and patience.
Lots and lots of reversing, parking and stopping.
Practice, practice, practice. Not so bad, although I scarcely managed to keep it between the lines a lot of the time.
I wonder if I'll ever get the hang of being in charge of hurtling a large, life-threatening piece of metal about the city?
I wonder when I'll get used to coming home to this silent, empty bed.
Kaya has taken to sleeping in D's big green office chair, as though she's waiting for him to come back.
It's so fucking wierd that he's not.
July 12, 2004
If I had a nickle for every rock Sam's thrown, I'd be rich woman.
He has an absolute fascination for rocks, especially BIG rocks. He's taken to collecting them. He'll haul a rock that is almost the size of his head back from the local park-nearly 10 blocks away.
I had a grand afternoon with him today down at our favorite place under the bridge in the beaver park.
It was sunny and beautiful, but I was still feeling blue. I sat and meditated for a while, but my ribs hurt and I felt uncomfortable, squirrelly... So I stood up and started doing some walking meditation along the river bank. Back and forth, back and forth, while Sam attempted to dam the river-quite patiently, I thought, though he kept wondering why it just kept flowing right over the rocks he was trying to stop it with.
After a while, he noticed me marching up and down and asked me why... I told him I was meditating. He came up and stood in my path, I pushed by him. He spread out his arms and legs and stood in the path again and again. I kept walking past him. Finally he started to drag up these big rocks from the streambed and plopped them in a line across the path.
"A mamadam!" I said, laughing. "But, mamas are like water, kiddo, they just flow right over it." I stepped over.
He thought it was pretty funny. He said he wished he could lift the REALLY huge boulders from the river.
Just what I need, really huge boulders in my path!
Too funny, and actually, it WAS just what I needed. We had an awesome, muddy, wet, sunny afternoon together.
Love my boy.
July 11, 2004
1st driving lesson
My good friend Sharon took me down to Magnusson Park and I tooled about in my car.
It was an excellent lesson. She's awesome. Warm, enthusiastic, calm, patient, encouraging and supportive.... Not to mention a good driver!
I don't know quite what I'd have done without her presence these past few days. She's really surrounded me with so much love and confidence.
Thank you Sharon.
My next lesson is tuesday, with Krista. I figure tagteaming it should get me on the road quicker-look out road!
July 08, 2004
my client tipped me $20 today!
Made my day, 'specially considering that I only had one massage-even if it was an hour and a half.
Poor guy. His neck was so outta wack, he could barely tolerate any work on it.
It's funny, as a massage therapist I've usually found that women tip more than men, and often men don't tip at all... But this really made up for it.
July 07, 2004
my subconscious must be trying to tell me something
last night I dreamed I was out with a whole buncha girls.
We were trying on sexy clothes. I put on this little white halter top with an elaborate blue embroidered bird on the front.
There was this really cute lesbian girl, a bit shy, with dark hair and soft eyes. We looked at each other, flirted a little...
I woke up before I got to ask her out, darn it.
I hope I have good dreams tonight. It's my first night in the house alone. Been kinda rough so far.
Sam slept with me last night, he wanted to try out the new bed-loved it!-he grinds his teeth and tosses off the covers and throws his legs over me, but it was worth it for his snuggly company and that beautiful loving sleepy smile in the morning as my boy piles on top of me. What a sweetlet.
Stoopid empty house.
She slunck in the back way, like a thief through the garden.
Sobbing, screaming echoed for miles, nobody heard but
The house shattered against her pounding fists,
A certain calm descends.
For a motionless hour, sideways, staring fixated,
July 06, 2004
clean and empty
Trying to reclaim the house. Trying to deal.
Putting new pictures up on the wall.
Sleeping in the new bed.
Weeding the garden.
Doing laundry, compulsively cleaning.
It all looks so nice and clean and horribly, horribly neat and empty.
I miss him, so much.
Sam misses him.
Even Kaya misses him, she's wandering around, looking nervous and pooping in places she shouldn't.
I hate the clean, swept floor. I want his clutter and disorder and mischief back. I want his vibrant presence and his meat and his wild hair and his strong loving and his warm arms and chest at night.
Yeah, I'm dealing.
Really, I have stretches of time when I feel like it's OK, when I feel peaceful and capable and strong and creative...
Jess and I harvested the garlic and sat in the sun braiding it. It felt good, although some of it had gone too long in the ground and rotted.
People tell me time heals all wounds.
Could someone fastforward, please?
July 05, 2004
snap, whiiiizzz, boom!
too many fireworks going off. I just lay here in my moms cozy cabinhouse, pulling at my wonky ribs and thinking too much.
Changed position a million times.
Didn't catch a wink till the bright morning sun was already pouring in. Slept fretfully with weird dreams about trying to make a cake for Rowans birthday with Daniel and Jess and Ben and the kids, but knowing I wasn't going to be there. I just kept mixing the chocolate and cream together over and over....
Woke up in a funky position with my skewed rib screaming bloody murder. Not a good sign.
Practiced, got up.
Danced a funky dance to my friend Ellens cd.
Tried to eat my new unsweetened breakfast cereal, 'Seven in the Morning'. It's kind of like gravel, only more nutricious.
I think gravel would probably taste better yo.
July 01, 2004
Daniel is leaving me.
He's moving out this week.
I can't believe it.
I'm in shock. This last week has been a nightmare of panic attack and brokeness.
I knew we had problems, but I really thought we'd work them out. I really thought we were together forever.
He isn't ready to be a husband or stepfather, cannot handle the responsibility and commitments of this relationship.
He doesn't want to start over, to back off, chill out and try again. Not even just simply as boyfriend and girlfriend without all those commitments, all that pressure.
My life and dreams are in wreckage. Everywhere I go and everything I do reminds me of us and I can't stop crying, can't stop my chest from caving in.
I love him so much. He is in my heart. I want to be with him so so so fiercely. I don't understand how he can leave this love.
I would have married him, adored him and taken care of him for the rest of our lives together. I would have had the patience to let him grow into it in his own way, to forgive his mistakes, and be there for him always.
It would not have become the boring, traditional, horrendous image of a family life that he feared. Stability does not mean stultifying! It would have been a wonderous adventure, a rare love and a tremendous opportunity for growth and change. We could have walked that path together, figured it out as we went along.
Now there's nothing but ashes and squirming, severed roots.
Now I'm going to have to pick up the pieces of myself(who the hell am I, anyway?)
I can't even bring myself to go home(fuck, it's not even home anymore without him!). I'm staying at my moms, wearing her waytoobig clothes, because I can't face the pain of what awaits me there, tearing our stuff and our lives apart.
I can't face even the smallest details, let alone the huge ones, like not being able to pay the rent without him and RCC. Sam and I will probably have to move, leave that beautiful place behind with a garden full of unripe tomatoes.
So many memories in my head, in my body, of him, of us together, of our beautiful love and all the sweet things we shared.
I WANT IT BACK! I want him back.
But of course I can't have it. He's gone. We're over.
It tastes like dirt, bitter, bitter dirt in my mouth to say these things.
It's so fucking hard. People are still innocently asking: "So, when's the wedding?" all the time and I have to tell them, and watch their smile fall into that frightful look of social horror that people get when they've accidentally stuck their nose right into someone elses most painful shit.
In the last month and a half I've gone from being a fiance planning a wedding, to being a girlfriend trying to work things out, to being an exgirlfriend.
What an ugly word.
Bear with me, this is probably my last post for a while.
I love you Daniel.