I’m tired so tired not a fan of this feeling that life is passing me by and my child grew an inch I swear while I was gone for four days in CA and sometimes I feel like when I am with him I am not really with him because my mind is always wandering and he is always moving, doing boy stuff like crashing cars and going on about spiderman and power rangers and things that actually make me very uncomfortable because i am hung up on aggression. i try not to resist too much because what we resist persists but i never liked that saying because i feel like it is saying not to resist and there are some things that i must resist. anyway tangent - my son is so cute, so cute, that sweet little face, limber little bod and i am angry at his father for corrupting his mind with that violent crap it is like junk food for the mind and spirit and he’s feeling it to my son who is now kinda addicted to it.
the house is a mess and my own mind is a mess and I’m always cleaning and yet the kitchen counter is crawling with ants which freaks out my son and freaks me out and I can’t get rid of the ants.
My heart continues to break - stupid heart! stop fucking breaking and mend. just get over yourself, heart. there is a he that left me alone and this insult won’t leave me alone. i went out on a date on friday night with another he but was too tired to allow myself to be kissed, too broken even to seize a more than likely guaranteed opportunity for sex. i have utterly surrendered to this fear and expectation of men hurting me. i’m braced for it, wincing, need to get my power back. my power - it’s leaking out of some chakra onto the ground, and it’s leaving an ugly stain on the concrete.
i’m too tired to punctuate and edit or even to attempt to use proper grammar. this may make for a less than stellar or interesting piece to read but i need to write and am shooting for imperfection here.
i am on the verge of tears and have been for days - it’s not even my time of the month so no excuses for this emotionality other than my innate sensitive soppiness. i don’t mean to paint it all as melodramatic because there has been laughter. i had a great time on my date the other night even though i am already pretty sure it was the last.
there has been swimming on a rainy day with a small squirmy wormy flipping and flopping in my arms, attempting to propel his body through the water independently.
there have been two guy friends crashing in the house for a few days, filling it with queer and wonderful energy. there was the omelette cooked for me by J one of my sweet house guests, who I wish would never leave.
there is the excitement of my spoken word album unfolding in the next few months, mixed with a fair amount of scared-shitness that it’s actually happening.
there is good and there is bad and there is ugly and there is unbearable.
but damn it, all things change, this i know viscerally. this exhaustion will go, this fear of men hurting me, this sense of occasional disconnectedness from my uber masculine son. i cherish his moments of sweetness before sleep. i hold him and rub his back in circles and kiss him on his sweet little cheek, just the right roundedness, just the right density and consistency and i love him more than i can comprehend.
i’m a blubbering mess but wouldn’t have it any other way, right now. i’m not even going to reread this post, just going to publish as is, mess and all.
Welcome to this blog - my chronicle of the illuminating, character-building path of single parenthood. I'm making this up as I go along. My life is my practice, and my five year-old son is my greatest teacher.