Out...In...

The year is ending, another year without.  That is typically how I would look at it. A year without my mother, grandmother, godmother, pastor, brother...without the familial feel.

But, I sit alone tonight, and though I lamented it at first, I had time to think.  I walked through my house.  And smiled.  In its current tumbled up state, I doubt anyone would see what I see.  I see the space where I grew up, I see blood, sweat and tears of a man determined to take care of his, and I see generational property.  I see a house that, just like me, my children know nothing but.

I see the first day home from the hospital, their crawling, climbing, walking, laughing, loving, I see their living.  And that is what we are doing.  Living.  Amidst the renovations, amidst the trenches in the floor, the sinkless bathroom, and disconnected kitchen, we are living.

My children lay asleep.  My angst ridden son who flipflops between intense love for my boyfriend, (yes I said it outloud, lol) and intense dislike of his presence.  My daughter, who is as jaunty as the breeze swinging through this window near me.  Her life has been a replacement game of sorts.  I hope she is okay.

I sit in my bed, laptop on knees, various tabs in windows open.  Representative of my mind, nothing related to the other but somehow all connected in my wrecked mind.

There is no longer an intense need to hold on to so many things I once did so tightly.  There will always been an ache for family, I grew up that way.  But, there is no need to grasp on to things that jeopardize all that I am and stand for.  And lately I have been questioning where I stand, on what and why.

I embark on so many new things this year. My contract for work will end this year, and I must have something else lined up to take its place.  My son needs to change schools, and it hangs in the balance of my financial prowess to make it happen.  My daughter is making crazy strides in all that she does that it scares me.  And in the fine realm of love, I find myself more capable.  More articulate, more abrupt, more understanding, less tolerant yet more so, patient and aware.

It is hard to say it out loud.  Hard to describe what love between best friends (of the opp. sex) can be like.  There is a comfort level, a sort of security, there are relationship issues of course, but there is a cord of understanding that never needs words.

My kids are my world, that is firmly entrenched, and I do what I can to anchor them.  It's overwhelming to do it on my own, overwhelming to think that I may get this wrong...so overwhelming, but I'm good.

Doing...

The holidays bring something fresh with it, regardless of whether or not I keep them.  Who doesn't take advantage of time off to just breathe and exist?

I am still edgy and nervous.  I think that will be with me for a long time. But, two things occurred last week that sort of put some reassurance I guess, back in the picture.  It was a big thing to me, because as much as this family is blending, I still sort of retreat into solitary reactions and actions.

We stand in the kitchen, today I cook the proteins, he cooks the carbs, tomorrow I cook the carbs, he cooks the proteins, the day after, he cooks alone.  I feel the melding and meshing and would be lying if I didn't think it felt damn good.  Real good.  Homey.  We sit with the kids and laugh and share.  Family...

Last night, just us, no kids, (fast asleep in their beds), I am bombarded by a slew of thoughts in one itsy bitsy second.  I don't know if words can dare to explain it.  But, as we horsed around, chasing each other, screaming, laughing, gazing, daring, I remembered those moments when we were first together.  The laughs, the fun, the underlying intensity and security.  And simultaneously, I think of my ex-husband, the way that the laughter and freedom was there, but didn't last long, and will that happen to us?  The mind is an amazing thing.  Split second.  Split.  Second.  I am in his arms in a wrestling lock, screaming "Uncle!" and I am carried back into time and cracking jokes with my ex.  Swiftly.  Those years did not laugh long.

We've been sort of inseparable since last week.  After a week apart that gave me time to think and consider and mull and ruminate and yes, even sulk, the rhythm and routine was forming again. Home to me after work,    chilling out and lazing around.  Gone, back again.  With christmas coming up, I knew this would be an interesting observation.  I am not that naive not to know what this time is for couples and how some women put a lot of weight on this.

Christmas eve was work time.  Junkanoo time.  Day after day passing and we are there in our own worlds.  Then he sacrificed two days of things he had to get done to keep my kids.  Kids that he calls his.  Kids he defended at Junkanoo, and later on Friday night at the Chinese restaurant.  Inside I swelled and beamed.  A little bit more security sneaking in, but not enough to knock me off guard again.  I am still a bit rigid in how I feel otherwise.

Two more days of saying he was going, and sat right there with me.  Then work, then home again.  And more bonding with the kids.  Scrabble, dinner, Xmas morning a big breakfast spread because I know it was important to him to have something like that.  Then today, work tonight, and he says he'll be there tomorrow.

I try to slough off and act unaffected, but the truth pricks me.  What can I say?  What can I do?  I am back in observation mode.  I can play cool enough to not make him think I am being overbearing, but some days my mind is screaming.

I am laughing, almost all the time.  And  it feel so odd...

Stupid

I am talking to a friend online today and he's been fired up a while.  He's found THE ONE.  And he's making it happen.  He's going to ask her to marry him on her birthday. He's making plans to fly over this weekend to spend time with her.

I am happy for him, he's had some bad breaks, and finally it's clicking and working and this one has sense.  But I digress.

In my feed another friend announces he has popped the question and his girlfriend has said yes.  And she's all over his wall being happy.

And I ached. I fucking ached.  And I was like wtf?  Where did THAT come from.  Jealous?  Seriously?  Woman, you have a whole eleven years of marriage under your belt?  What is wrong with you?  And where did this come from?

People have gotten married since you've been married, been proposed to.  Gather yourself together.  Shake it off.

Somehow that shit hurt.  And I don't know why.

I was at Junkanoo.  And his mother passed me.  I felt a quick tinge, and knocked it off, his sister was with her.  I am not up to in-laws.  I saw her and the typical part of me that says how come his mother doesn't know about me got angry.  The don't give a shit part of me said, I don't have energy.

And I don't know what this is.  I want to heal up from this past mess and I want surety that I am not wasting my time with this new endeavour.  I want to know that, this awkward weirdness that is us, is just us and not me being edgy.

I am worried about the end before it begins properly.  My mind just races that way...

Ache

On Friday, I made the stupid trek to the prison to take these kids to see their biological father.  You know the one taht donated the sperm to make them exist?  Yeah, him.

We get there and there is none of our names on the pass.  And my son crumbles.  I?  I have smoke coming from my ears.  And I fume dragging them from the prison compound, cursing this pile of flesh in my mind.  This pile of flesh that I joined myself with all these years and just want to be done with.

My son asks me why his father doesn't love him? What the fuck?  Are we serious?  This is what I have to face?  Yes. Because it was my decision to walk down the aisle and make a life with him.  Little did I know just how jacked up this decision was going to prove to be.

I ached.  I ached so hard that I wanted to lay down and cease to exist.  Not die, just cease to exist.  Simply because the pain and angst in my seven year old was somehting so heavy and Ic ouldn't take it from him.

At home, they were distracted.  They were reassured they were love through laughter and hugs. And then a talk that let them know that they are indeed wonderful little people and in a round about way, their dad is a jackass.

I don't care what pain is between us, I don't care how much I wish I could cut his existence out of my life. I am mindful of his part in my kids' being here. I am mindful that a relationship and bond was developed with them and I am responsible for protecting them.  Protecting them from his bullshit.  This new presence in their life hasn't come to replace or supplant their father.  But he is simply there and it is more than I can ask.

He takes them as his own and doesn't blink about it at all.  And for that words cannot express...There aren't enough words, there aren't enough ways to say how I feel about this or the way it warms me up inside.  The way that you can trust someone with physical pieces of you, it floors me.

My son is an amazing kid, and right now we are in a phase of hard to communicate.  My temper fuse is short and some days I am just not feeling up to the task of taking him in hand.  I don't want him to ever think he's losing his mama too.  I am here and I love him.  And we curl up at night reading and talking about life.  Despite all of this going on, he has made excellent grades and strides on his report card.  And with major exams coming up, I await to see how he is going to manage.

I am so proud of him and often don't tell him because I am often yelling at him because we are at each other's throats.  And this is something I vow to work on.

Work

After emerging from a relationship in which I dealt with a crackhead far longer than I should have.  I sit here facing something else.

Do I want to do the hardwork?  Do I want to put in the elbow grease needed to make this work?

How did I get here?

There is so much pain and angst and I realize that I have contributed to some of that.  I have put in my two cents.  As small as the contribution may have been, it was a crushing, unexpected blow.  And I have often questioned his position on the matter.

I get that love overcomes a lot.  But what I realize is, he is guarded and will remain so until he feels better about us.  This hurts me a bit, because, what I did back then gives me so much grief, that if he truly understood it, he wouldn't "mad" at me.

Then I wonder about my track record of not dallying around in my marriage.  Doesn't it say something that not, even for him, would I stray?  I made a commitment and I stuck to it.  Part of it I think came from guilt as well that I had actually done something like that.

His acute need for privacy is crazy.  And sometimes I call him a fugitive.

We are building, I know, and there will be bumps in the road.  It's hard to relax when I feel like I am always in "prove it" mode.  And it is not something that he's insinuated or said.  It's just guilt I guess.

His actions hurt.  I won't lie.  And I don't want him to think it a free pass as we try to get past this.  I worry that we won't.

This weekend was nice.  We didn't see each other much, which is the exact opposite that's needed to make a nice weekend.  But, somehow, it was still nice.  And our communication stepped up just a teensy bit more.

I wish my head didn't rattle.  I wish that I didn't think so hard sometimes.  I want to just enjoy each day as it comes, and when I start to, I let it get out of hand and agitating.  I guess old habits die hard...

Restless Minds...

This morning was nice.  I cannot explain how he soothes my angst even though sometimes he's the source of it.

I realized this step back, not only is it needed, though I am terrified of it, makes things a bit more.  Yes, a bit more.

Snuggled in the wee hours of dawn, that darkness that has settled, we played catch up.  Saying everything and nothing.  I realized that, the time apart made us okay.  And though I am fearful of everything after what I just came out of, fearful of what is to come.  I must rest my angst.

I am a wreck and I know that.  He is one too.  I will fall back and take a minute.   If it's meant to be, it will.  If not, I will be fine.  To hell with everything else.

There is a click.  A tangible sound. And that I can never ever explain...

Ugly before it's beautiful?

8 december

Wide awake.  Agitated.  This mind of mind never seems to truly sleep.  I was so centered.  And then I wasn't.

I was working so hard on being and staying calm and preparing myself for what may come or may be.  I can always feel something coming.  There are hints, changes in the electrical current around me and I get edgy.

I promised myself I would never question who I am or what I believe.  I mean it's only natural to do so periodically.  But the way we do in teenage angst, I promised to never do again.  And yet, this whole thing blew my mind.  It wasn't the actual situation, it was the handling of it.

The whole typicalness of it all.  The whole just-like-everybody-else-ness of it all just hurt.  Here, I was thinking this a different experience and I am slammed out of left field.  It throws everything into a whirlwind and forces me to question it all from the break.

What else have I been lied to about?  What else?  Is this going to be a common occurrence.  Will I ever get what it is I have been truly looking for?  Am I expecting too much, am I out on a limb and it's about to fall?

I cannot believe I am here.  I cannot believe once again I am unsettled and insecure.  I am feeling screwy.  And the conversation with a male who I was surprised to find out isn't faithful to mother of his children, blew me threw the roof.  Seriously, the whole, that's man and it will never change thing?  The man tells me that men aren't as strong as women, and I had flashbacks of conversations with my ex husband.  Where he constantly said their resolve isn't as strong as ours.  That once we've decided something, we shut stuff down, but a man has a hard time.

My whole thing boils down to one thing.  Love. In my head, in my soul, it can conquer anything.  But after the marriage experience, that belief has been knocked down one notch.  There are some things it can COVER, but certainly not CONQUER.

Hearts are a resourceful thing, bouncing back from so much.  Repairing itself, renewing itself, like an endless source of expansive love.  But there are days where I wonder if it's all worth it.  If the crapshoot is worth the gamble and the risk.

Thing is, I have stood there.  In that exact same spot that says, "What to do?"  "How did I get here?" "What if I am found out?"

I don't get to be judge and jury. I don't get to stand on the horse's back and waggle my finger.  And it's not that simple as to what it is going on in my head.

Combining

Life is all about combining.  Constantly combining reality with thought, fantasy with reality, work and play, love and lust, emotions and logic.  In some way, we are constantly combining, balancing and working things out.

And here I sit.  Mind afuddled.  All addled.  Simply because I have been up since 3am and it's currently almost 11am.  Many things have me feeling overwhelmed, I was in such a zen place yesterday and then, wide awake at 3am, mind all agog and abuzz.

I often question how I feel about this man.  About where I am now, about the man who was in my life before.  It's hard to not do so.  I remember telling him, that if I ever leave it would never be because I didn't love him, but because this could no longer work between us.  Thing is, I will always hold a degree of respect for him as the father of my kids.  I have shut down everything else.  Shut it out.

There is an underlying thing.  A spark, a burning that exists now.  Even in the dullest of moments.  Even in the mundane routine of readying kids for school, shuffling them out the door, going to work, coming home, cooking, homework, bedtime readying.  There is something comforting there.

As I sat outside this morning in the foulest of moods, a mood that he's never intimidated by, never ran away from me, and knows come with the territory, I realized so many things.  My moods worry him, scare him and he knows they pass, but they make him uncomfortable.  Simply because I can be so flat and cold.  He is not satisfied until there is a smile or hint of one.  He needs to know I am okay.

And so I combine my black mood with concern for him and give him a blush so that he knows, the one he needs is here and somewhere inside she's okay.  But this mood must work itself out.  He's a fine one to talk, he will stay up til three in the morning agitated by something but not wanting to talk.

I remember nights floating around the internet aimlessly, running away from thoughts plaguing the hell out of me, tv playing in the background drowning everything else out.

So much like me, it's worrisome and scary...can we truly combine our lives?

Traditional Roles?

Yesterday as I walked around the foodstore, alone.  Thoughts tumbled along.  For a long time, it has been almost taboo to state that as a woman, taking care of the family makes her happy.

I am in a new relationship.  One that I waffle about constantly if I have jumped in too soon, if I look like a "ho" or if it was just something that crept up and was to be grabbed in fear that this may be the last opportunity at it.  Some days are better than others, I lie.  MOST days are better than others. :)

Solace is found in my kitchen.  I have gotten selfish and refuse to share that space, unless pressed for time, or in an open mood.  There's a soothing air that settles around me as I fumble around like I know what I am doing.  There's a sense of pride as the eager cries "You finish yet?" come to agitate me as well as get rewarded with annoyed sighs.

I ironed yesterday, something that hasn't been done by HIM, since he's been there.  And from the start, there seemed to be an unspoken expectation.  In a time before, young liberated burn-my-bra equality for all Markera would've sat and seen how long it would be before the clothes grew mushrooms and then ask if he had no idea how the washing machine worked.  Instead, every week, clothes are washed, hung out, picked in, ironed and put away.  And there's a ball of satisfaction in my gut that pushes me on.

There's a full realization, that yes, these things can be done, but in consideration of house renovations, garbage removal, heavy lifting, occasional baby-sitting, bathroom cleaning, bed spreading and other things, why can't I just let a routine form?  We all have to do things we don't like and of course somewhere in there, there will be something I hate to do that I have to do. *shrug* 'Tis life.

After the grocery store run, I stood part of my dinner in one hand, some of the grocery in the other.  He helped take the grocery out of the car, and proceeded to help put it up.  Right down to emptying oats, and rice into the reusable containers to go by the stove.  I finished up and just stood there thinking.  That was so not necessary but it felt so good.

Things that hurt...

My daughter's birthday is tomorrow and her father won't be able to celebrate it with her.
Seeing my son wrestle with day to day life having dealt with so much death and loss in his seven years, almost eight and counting.
Not having the emotional warmth of family to surround me and my kids.
The dull mental kick that niggles in the back of my mind that reminds me I should have left so many times before.
Embarrassment at having to deal with this mess.
Loving that hard and holding hope for so long.
Remembering that I walked away from something that was good only to get done so bad.
The realization that despite incarceration, there's no change...

And here we are..

I am going to be 32 on the 10th.  I am more confident in who I am than I was two years ago.  I sometimes wonder how I got here though.

Everything I hated, right down to my name, I love.  With a stupid passion that I guess, is somewhat childish?  The originality, the love and the hopes behind it, became apparent when I named my kids.

Next year, I will be divorced.  I ran off in to the sunset with who I thought was Mr. Right and ended up in the dark for so long, it finally came to my attention that hey, morning isn't going to come with this one.

It's hard to admit out loud that one is in an abusive relationship.  There are cyclic behaviours we fall into never questioning the roots, never wondering why or how...and we wake up one day, and it clicks.

My husband never beat me.  He never raised a hand to me.  But, in his perceived notion that he's only hurting himself, he indulges himself in occasional vacations with his crackpipe.  He has taken my secrets and flung them at me like sand in the wind.  This can happen sober or inebriated.  It doesn't matter.

When I met him, I thought I had found it.  That thing we all search for.  That settling down, that loving feeling, that security, things that make a woman think, hey, I can make this man my baby daddy.  And masks fall away.

It's hard not to wonder if too many stressful things happened too early on, but then, it wasn't early in the relationship, it was just early in the marriage.  To say there were no happy times would be a lie.

There were up times, so quick, so infrequent, so overcome by the down times, they seemed to never have existed.  Family moments, vacations, birthdays, dates, they all happened, they all occurred with laughter, with gaiety.  And then, the disappearances, binges, theft, hurt, arguments, rehab, prison.

Loving him was easy at the start, staying in love was harder.  Of course staying in love is hard, staying in love with a crackhead whose world revolves around him sober, much less toxic, is ridiculously near impossible.  We women have that innate complex that says we can love them better, we can make them change.  We can make it right.  True love conquers all.  One day he'll wake up and see what he has.

Or one day he can wake up and see what he sure as hell lost...