Breathing a sigh of relief

I am feeling so free tonight! I figured something out about myself. I have been stressing over S and his schooling, his failure to take responsibility as he should, etc. I’ve been worried about S and C’s relationship (things are a bit rocky right now, not much detail). I’ve been really upset, and the boys seem to be avoiding me. Maybe they are.

Today I’ve been thinking about my stress level, and how upset I am about the boys. You see what I’m saying? “I” am upset, “I” am stressed, “I”. How much of this has been about me? What about them? C is 19, S is less than a week away from 18. They have been with us for over a year. They are growing up!

Light left for college this fall. I’m fine with that. I know what to expect from that relationship. But with the boys… who am I? They have a huge place in my heart. I love them, as sons at least, and maybe in some other vague way I can’t describe. I’m not sure what to expect from the relationship I have with either of them. My mothering instincts are strong. But one of a mother’s most important tasks is to work herself out of a job. I’ve had 18 years to work on that with Light. C and S have only recently moved into my heart. It is with them that my heart/mind is confused about this whole “let them grow up” thing.

After talking it out with Superman (which means I talk, he nods and smiles and looks concerned and makes the right “mmm”, “yes” noises at appropriate times) and having a good cry, I’ve begun to let go. The boys are having their own problems, but those are THEIR problems. I can listen, I can support, but it is time for me to shut up, to stop trying to interfere.

I’m not exactly sure how specifically to do this “let go” thing, but I know I have to do it, for them and for me. I’m ready to work on that now. I shared that information with S and he seemed relieved. I admitted to him that I’ve been annoying recently. He was glad I finally figured that out! And now I feel lighter, less stressed, more free. It is a good feeling. And I’m proud of myself for figuring it out on my own. Now we need to work on the “how.” But this is a really good first step!

Please disregard the previous unkind mention of Superman

He has redeemed himself, as is evident by the posting of this and the previous post.

Oy

I don’t know where to start. So I run around in circles not being any good to anyone for anything. It has been that kind of day. I’m tired. My brain is beating me up. Does your brain ever tell you things that aren’t very nice about you? From what I’ve read on Kickin’ Tina I think warrior scout has this problem sometimes. Or at least used to.

I’ve been told not to listen to these things. But they are very convincing. For instance, “I am incompetent at most of the things I try to do.” “I get started on something, but just can’t see it through, so it ends up being a big mess. This applies to tangible projects and to emotional/social efforts.” “I have failed my children, at least for today, and possibly for a large chunk of their lives.” “No matter how hard I try, I fuck things up.” “I’m not worth it.”

Some days I can ignore these messages, laugh at them, or even disagree on a few points. But I can never refute the whole message, and even if I am ignoring it, I don’t discount it. Today I need to see some positive results from the efforts of my life over the last 3-6 months. Squat. Just a big mess. Maybe these are long-term projects, results won’t be evident for a long time. Shit. I’m not that patient. I don’t have enough faith for that.

Some of the issues in question are:
S- his life, his education, his health – both mental and physical
Diva- her life, her mental state, her education
Sproing- his life, his future, his temper and attitude
My kitchen- will I get the cabinets cleaned, painted, and everything put back in them? Or will the kitchen forever look like someone is either moving in or moving out? Will we ever be able to eat at the tab le again?
My living room- O.M.G. That is all.
Oh, shit, the whole rest of the house. Ever seen the show “Clean Sweep?” My whole house is one giant “before” picture. S and I were supposed to work on the living room Friday, but he had to make up absences at school and I got sick with a 24-hour virus, so nothing got done. Even if I hadn’t been barfing my guts out, S and C stayed out ALL FUCKING NIGHT the night before so they were exhausted.

That’s the thing. S promises to do all these things, like go to school, but “something came up” and he had to stay out with his friends all night. BULL SHIT!
OK, I’m rambling again. And I am not coherent. I am, however, tired. I just wanted to post my frustrations (sorry, gang, for the downer) and go to bed. Thanks for listening.

Oh, shit. Now I can’t post this damn diatribe because “Superman” kicked the power strip, turned the whole thing off. It controls the base computer and the wireless router so now I can’t connect. This is my life. Unconnected to the vital elements that keep me motivated. Shit. I’m going to bed. Shit.

Coming soon to a blog near me

I am working on a 100 things about me list. Last night I got up to about 16. I was very tired at the time, so I have no idea what I wrote. I wasn't drunk, but tired can sometimes mimic the tipsy thing.

On another topic, Light is home for the weekend. She's the one who took the rest of the family to the party I didn't attend last night. I'm checking my favorite blogs this afternoon, and she mentions something I've got on my profile page. Um, dear, how often do you read my blog? Pretty often. Ooops. Steve told me just after I started my blog not to tell family or close friends about it, unless I felt really comfortable with them reading about themselves. I should have listened to you Steve. I haven't told anyone else since then, but I can't remember exactly who all I told.

I'm not much of a party animal

Tonight was the night of the one party I go to, the annual Halloween bash at the home of a friend. It started years ago as a party for her small children. The children have grown, and the party reflects that change - somewhat. I adopted 2 kidlets who are now 9, and she had a late-in-life "surprise" who is now 6 (I think). There are a couple of other regulars who also have younger kids. It is challenging to host a party that entertains older teens/young adults without being too "informative" for the younger ones. I usually end up laughing a lot. She's a great party planner and hostess.

But I didn't go. I used the excuse that I was getting over that day of sick, was too tired. But really, I probably could have gone. I'm not that tired. I just have trouble getting out of the house and being with, you know, people. Once I'm out I usually function pretty well. Is it the fear of leaving home, the fear of being with other people, the fear of being in a different space?

I have good days and bad days. On bad days I can't go to the grocery store. Can't go into Wal-Mart. But even on good days it is hard for me to attend social events, such as this party. Today has been an introspective day. I've been playing with my blog friends all day, reading blogs and posting comments. You guys are safe. I can visit with you from my nest on my bed, in my old ugly purple nightgown. Honestly, today I haven't even left the bedroom. Superman has brought me food. The children have come to visit me. I often have days like this. I think it is probably not healthy, but I am afraid to change.

Today whilst reading Cooper's blog I was inspired to take a walk. Inspired, but not moved. I stayed on my fat butt and read about his walks through the woods with his two adorable little boys. (Really, if you aren't familiar with Cooper's Corridor, you must visit him!)

Now I feel bad about not going to the party. This is the first one I've missed in over 5 years. But I just couldn't go. Tomorrow is Sunday, and there is a lovely little Episcopal church just south of downtown (our downtown is two whole blocks long!) that I'd like to attend. I keep intending to go. I keep not going. My excuses: I stayed up too late Saturday night and am too tired to go; I'm too fat to go out in public; I have nothing to wear to this proper little church; I feel uncomfortable with the class of people who attend. (It's a higher class of folks, you know, and I am more of a red-neck butch bitch.) It all boils down to bullshit. But I'm stuck in a mire of bullshit.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Interesting stuff historical, social

This is another daily email subscription I receive. I thought today's offering was very thought provoking:

In today's excerpt--Billie Holiday (1915-1959), considered by some the greatest female jazz vocalist, introduces "Strange Fruit," a song about lynching, into a world of songs about love and romance:"

A few years back, Q, a British music publication, named 'Strange Fruit' one of 'the ten songs that actually changed the world.' Like any revolutionary act, the song initially encountered great resistance. Holiday and the black folksinger Josh White, who began performing it a few years after Holiday first did [in 1939], were abused, sometimes physically, by irate nightclub patrons--'crackers' as Holiday called them. Columbia Records, Holiday's label in the late 1930s, refused to record it. 'Strange Fruit' marked a watershed, praised by some, lamented by others, in Holiday's evolution from exuberant jazz singer to chanteuse of lovelorn pain and loneliness. Once Holiday added it to her repertoire, some of its sadness seemed to cling to her; as she deteriorated physically, the song took on new poignancy and immediacy. ..."

Lynchings--during which blacks were murdered with unspeakable brutality, often in a carnival-like atmosphere, and then, with the acquiescence if not the complicity of local authorities, hung from trees for all to see--were rampant in the South following the Civil War and for many years thereafter. According to figures kept by the Tuskegee Institute--conservative figures--between 1889 and 1940, 3,833 people were lynched; ninety percent of them were murdered in the South, and four-fifths of them were black. Lynchings tended to occur in poor, small towns--often taking the place, the famed newspaper columnist H.L. Mencken once said, 'of the merry-go-round, the theater, the symphony orchestra.' ... And they were meted out for a host of alleged offenses--not just for murder, theft, and rape, but for insulting a white person, boasting, swearing, or buying a car. In some instances, it was no infraction at all; it was just time to remind 'uppity' blacks to stay in their place. ..."

The night that she first sang 'Strange Fruit' [at Cafe Society in New York] 'there wasn't even a patter of applause when I finished,' she later wrote in her autobiography. 'Then a lone person began to clap nervously. Then suddenly everybody was clapping.' The applause grew louder and a bit less tentative as 'Strange Fruit' became a nightly ritual for Holiday, then one of her most successful records, then one of her signature songs, at least in those places where it was safe to perform."

Lyrics:

Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,
And the sudden smell of burning flesh!

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

David Margolick, Strange Fruit, Harper Collins, Copyright 2001 by David Margolick, pp. 8, 19-20, 3-4.
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A Meme: Then and Now

Pastest, Paster, Past and Present
Stolen from Seismic Twitch.
20 years ago
1.) How old were you? 25
2.) Where did you go to school? Had recently graduated from Mercer U, Macon, GA
3.) Where did you work? Had no job outside the home, but we were foster parents for an adoption agency, we took care of newborns.
4.) Where did you live? An adorable apartment complex in Macon. Two story townhouse thing, built in the post WWII housing boom.
5.) Where did you hang out? At home, mostly, or at friends’ house. Sometimes at church.
6.) Did you wear glasses? Yup, since the 5th grade
7.) Who was your best friend? Besides my husband, Kay Wilmot.
8.) How many tattoos did you have? Zero, none, nada, zilch
9.) How many piercings did you have? Ditto. Not even in the ears
10.) What car did you drive? Honda tiny itsy-bitsy Civic, very old even then. Smelled funky, and the interior was disintegrating and leaving a greasy murky film on the windows.
11.) Had you been to a real party? Yes, but wasn't really doing parties at that time.
12.) Had your heart broken? Oh, yes. And broken a few along the way as well.
13.) Single/Taken/Married/Divorced: Married to Superman for 4 years by then. He hadn’t earned the “superman” designation yet. He was a real dufus, but I loved him.

10 years ago
1.) How old were you? 35
2.) Where did you go to school? School of Hard Knocks
3.) Where did you work? “in the home” I was a “housewife.”
4.) Where did you live? In a cute little ranch style house on an acre of land about half a mile from nowhere.
5.) Where did you hang out? At home, at church.
6.) Did you wear glasses? Yup
7.) Who was your best friend? Besides Superman, Tammy
8.) How many tattoos did you have? As many as I have now: none
9.) How many piercings did you have? I had by then gotten my ears pierced, but wasn’t able to wear earrings because my body produced scar tissue from the intrusion and I was developing “cauliflower ear.” I can’t remember if the piercing had closed over by then.
10.) What car did you drive? An old beat-up Ford E150 Econoline cargo van, light blue with scratches and patched spots. I named it Babe the Big Blue Box.
11.) Had you been to a real party? Not since college, many years ago.
12.) Had your heart broken? Yes, by my husband, whom I forgave and we were building our relationship back up. He wasn’t quite to the “Superman” status, but was getting there.
13.) Single/Taken/Married/Divorced: Married

5 years ago
1.) How old were you? 40
2.) Where did you go to school? Didn’t
3.) Where did you work? At home. I was homeschooling my two oldest children.
4.) Where did you live? In a great big house, old and falling apart, but a wonderful place to live (except that the landlord was an ass.)
5.) Where did you hang out? Home, church
6.) Did you wear glasses? Yep, but still hadn’t gotten to the point I needed bifocals
7.) Who were your best friends? Everyday friends, local people I talked to regularly, people I called when I needed to talk? Nobody, really. I had friendly acquaintances, “played well with others,” but didn’t have what I consider true friends. Superman has been the only constant friend like that in my life. I do have another friend from high school with whom I am very emotionally close, Jeanne, but we only talk on the phone once or twice a year.
8.) Who was your crush? Shhh, don’t tell anyone. At that time I had a sort-of crush, not a biggie, on my doctor. He’s tall, sweet, funny, cute. He has since grown a goatee which IMHO has ruined the whole cute look.
9.) How many tattoos did you have? Same as before: none
10.) How many piercings did you have? Just the grown-over ear piercings
11) What car did you drive? A late model red full-sized E150 Econoline van.
12.) Had you had your heart broken? Not in a long time
13.) Single/Taken/Married/Divorced/Bitter: Married
14.) Any kids? Yes, 4. Two oldest biological, 2 youngest adopted.

Present
1.) How old are you? 45
2.) Where do you go to school? Wish I was in school, but not matriculating anywhere at the present.
3.) Where do you work? On the road! School bus driver for local school district.
4.) Where do you live? 3bed/2bath brick ranch in older subdivision. I hate the ranch style. Have for years. But it is what’s available and it does meet the basic family needs.
5.) Where do you hang out? Home, mostly. Don’t do church anymore since I started associating with gays.
6.) Do you wear glasses? Still, only now I have bifocals
7.) Who are your best friends? Superman, C and S, and my oldest daughter, Light. I don't get out much.
8.) Who is your crush? Sort of a small fantasy-like crush on my boss, the director of transportation for the school district. Really cute, about my age. We have a lot in common and he is really fun to talk to. We mostly only talk about work related things, or problems with our ADHD children. He has a son who is 3 years older than Twitch who has similar “issues” as Twitch.
9.) Do you talk to your old friends? Mostly not
10.) How many tattoos do have? Still none, and don’t want any.
11.) How many piercings do you have? None
12.) What kind of car do you have? My beautiful old ’91 pick-up truck (in the shop right now) and a 2000 Chevy Express full size fan/bus. 15 passenger, like the church or day school buses that run around here.
13.) Has your heart been broken? Not recently
14.) Single/Taken/Married/Divorced/Bitter? Married almost 25 years.
15.) Any kids? The 4 plus 2 more. Light and Twitch, biological, ages 18 & 16. Diva and Sproing, adopted, both age 9.5. The gay boys, C and S, who live with us and are a lot like sons in many ways.

Update on the man in the closet

This is a follow up on this post.

I had a chance to talk to A yesterday about our mutual friend. A says he has encouraged _______ to come out, as have many other concerned friends and relatives. But ______ gets very irate when the topic comes up! A suggested that I not have that talk with him, at least not now. So I won't. I will, however, try to make positive comments when given the opportunity.
A did say he would mention me to _____, tell him that I am a good resource for support, encourage him to come to me if he needs to talk. I think that's a great idea. I hope A gets to have that conversation with him.

Moss in a stream

This photo is from an daily email subscription I receive. I thought the photograph was particularly nice.

A Quote

Strength is the capacity to break a chocolate bar into four pieces with you bare hands- and then eat just one of the pieces. -Judith Viorst, novelist and poet