slushy christmas

some children's television is so fucking mindnumbing that I simply cannot believe that some adult actually approved of its creation. It's no wonder we're a nation of idiots.
I say this on a very white Christmas eve-the little r is sick on the couch alternately coughing and barfing and sleeping. I am puttering and trying to mentally check everything off the list as I go in preparation for my favourite Christmas moment-the moment when it's too late and I can officially say to myslef-"it's too late to give a fuck now". And I open a bottle of wine, wrap some gifts and watch Love Actually for that very lovely and sad moment when Emma Thompson's character opens her presents expecting beautiful jewellery and gets a cd instead. That is my mood as I end off the pre-Christmas extravaganza-wistful, sad and brave.
I hope if you're reading, you have a very peaceful day.

a loving refusal

isn't it such a confusing time? I feel like everyone is running around trying to get everything done in the hopes of grasping at something resembling the Christmas spirit and failing miserably. Little r and I have been chilling in front of the tv, colouring and baking, but I feel this pressure spend money that I don't have. My man is getting sick because he is so busy at work and stressed out. We had an awful weekend but I made it clear to him that I was no longer going to get sucked into his misery and that I would not put myself out for him (although I will put out LOL) unless he was willing to behave in a respectful and kind way. We went out for brunch on Sunday and it was nice to see him try to make conversation with me for a change, I felt perfectly comfortable not trying to ingratiate myself to him. He asked me what I was going to do differently in 2009 and I told him that I was going to practise taking care of myself and "not giving a shit"-that is to say that I have spent all the hours I can worrying about his health and happiness and feelings about me and it is high time to spend my precious energy on me. He seemed ok with that but asked me if I could spend some energy on trying to love him. I refused. But lovingly.

the force is with me

I saw a psychic a couple of weeks ago who told me that my aura was like, massive and therefore so was my psychic energy. She said that people react very strongly to me-sometimes in a negative way because they sense my energy field and they don't know how to handle it-I intimidate people. ( I thought they just didn't like me-now I know it's my aura) She said that my energy often dictates the energy of the room and that I am on this earth to use my super-powers to teach people. Unfortunately, she didn't tell me what it was I was supposed to be teaching the world, or how I was supposed to teach them. She told me I had BIG things to accomplish in this life and that since I had been through so many lives (being a number 11) I was getting weary of having to go through it all again next life-so I had better get moving. Then she smiled and said "No pressure, eh?" She didn't tell me what those big things are. Or just how sweet my next life might be. She said that I still have some healing to do and that my job is also to teach R how to heal. (Like I want that fucking job). I can hardly get the energy to look for a somewhat decent job and now it seems that for the next 60 or so years I am going to be very busy teaching the world to sing and healing myself and bringing great beauty and health to this place. It's a good thing I've got the force with me, otherwise I would feel too weary.

snow jogger

Breathing in. Breathing out. This time of year it is hard to remember to do that. I am gradually becoming the kind of woman who jogs through the snow in the rain. My clothes are getting slightly looser and my energy level is climbing up. Years, even months ago I would have written off a work-out on account of the bad weather, but now I see that I was just being a wimp. The yoga moves are getting easier too. I went out and bought myself a very fancy high-tech jacket to run in and I swear it gave me a sturdier step in that snow! I am so loving these moments of running, and then yoga in the stillness and quiet in my home-when the kids are at school, R is at work and there is order and the sights of winter through my windows. But now it must end as I must go out and join the throngs of people rushing around trying to buy gifts and groceries in time for the craziness. Happy snowy/rainy day!

Backlash in the new millenium

Warning: A rant is coming....

I am so tired of having to deal with men who are either living in the 60's or are so fucking fragile that any womanly input has their balls shrinking back up into their bodies faster than you can say "Passive-aggressive".

there. I feel better now. Thanks for listening. No, no, no, I am not talking about my man-one thing he doesn't need to grow is some cojones-I am talking about my ex-man. What did he do now you ask? Well, you see, I am having a slight problem with my older girl-the puberty one. She can't seem to hand in any of her work on time, the work she does hand in is crappy. She can't seem to remember to bring home her agenda, can't seem to bring home anything at all from school for that matter inculding permission forms and information that I need. She blames it on the teacher, or it's at my dad's, etc. She refuses to show me her low test scores-which I find crumpled up at the bottom of her bag 3 weeks later. Now, big girl is very smart-she is in fact in a class for "gifted" kids. She can write well, she can create, she can follow instructions. What she can't do is get organzied. So, after many many futile and frutiless conversations with her about this I just decided to enlist the help of her father whom she often implicates in her excuses. I told him that I was planning to take away her internet privileges until she can start to remember to bring home her agenda and do her work in the alotted time and could he do something along the same lines becasue it is impossible to discipline a kid who has 2 homes unless the discipline is consistent. I believe it's called teamwork. I sent him an email then I waited. I waited and waited. Nothing. This morning as I was looking over her work (2 weeks late at this point) and pointing out the several spelling errors, she told me that her dad told her he wasn't going to take away her computer privileges at his house because (and this important so pay attention) I am always telling him what to do in his house.

I laughed and laughed and then I realized she wasn't kidding. Then I went to the calender because I was sure we had jumped back into the 60's. Then I compained loudly about the dangers of getting involved with passive-aggressive men who have no balls and can't stand up for themsleves. Then I cleaned the kitchen in an aggressive frenzy-my kitchen is now very clean. Then I sent him a very condescending email pointing out that perhaps he should take karate or tae-kwon-do so that he could perhaps build up his self-esteem a little, and by-the-way the child support cheque is late so get moving.

Now you got me all riled up again. I've got to go clean something.

my man

I feel like I am constantly complaining about my man and his shortcomings on this blog. So I want to clarify a few things. He is not a bad man, in fact he is a very good man. He cares deeply about the world and cannot stand injustice or suffering. He has a very sensitive soul and is very sentimental, the man who cried when our bunny (whom he hated) died. His faith in God is unwavering. He is extremely funny and smart. He is handsome. He is a very loving, fun and sweet daddy who just melts at the mere sight of his little girl. He can be (and often is) very generous and tender. He is faithful and honest.

So why do I complain? Because in spite of his perfection, he is frustrated and depressed. He is seldom able to be proactive with these feelings and as a result he is angry, anger that is often directed at me. I am afraid that he will never be able to rise above his shortcomings to create the joy and satisfaction that he craves from life and that I will always be the one to blame. I am afraid of his bitterness, and of my own. I want him to soar but am afraid he cannot. My faith is just not that strong anymore.

I heard not too long ago that the thing men want most from their wives is to be adored-just as I am sure what women want from their men. It all stems it seems from this need to be adored by at least one person. I do adore him, but I also despise him-A feeling I am sure is echoed by anyone who has spent more than a few years with someone.

wanted: a plan

I need a plan. A decorating plan. A job plan. A dental plan. A plan for dealing with my extremely sensitive little one who, although brilliant, apparently bursts into tears every time loud noises are made at school among other things. A plan for surviving the holidays quasi-sober. A plan for my eldest, who cannot seem to organize herself at even a basic level and may risk losing her placement at school because of it. A plan for creating a joyful home. A decorating plan-oh I said that already. An exercise plan so I can lose this 15lbs I don't want. A man plan becasue the one I have isn't working that well because I feel as though we are so on autopilot that I don't even know what is real. A plan for buying wither a new house or another car so I can get a job that I can actually get to.
oh and we are going to see a psychic tonight. scary.

conundrum

Sometimes when it is quiet-usually in the wee hours, you find yourself thinking about just how far you have travelled away from "who you were going to be". I think about the day when I am financially independant (from R) and can therefore, buy my own place where I can live in peace. I never thought I wouldn't be and I realize I bought into all of the wrong ideas about happiness, the fucking fairy tales. It has been difficult for me to admit just how much I hate living with him and I always thought it was because of the mess. But I have recently begun to admit to myself that it's actually because most of the time, I simpy don't like him. It is interesting this push-pull. I want him to love me, to be kind and sweet to me, to smile and feel good around me, to show me that he does love me. I want to feel the same way towards him. Yet, because he is often rude, crass, moody, uncommunicative and sullen I find that I can't stand to be around him and sometimes even pretend I am alone when we are together. I guess it is possible to love someone and not like them. I want him to feel joyful and confident and I want him to feel energetic and loved. For himself, but also importantly, so that he can be someone I can like, so I can be happier with him. But it is really hard to care about someone when they act like a complete asshole. How do you tell someone that they are a lot more like their crazy sister than they ought to be...

how to get him to enjoy Christmas shopping 101

Dragged the wee sick one and R out yesterday evening for a couple of hours of pre-Christmas extravaganza at a fabulous shop for people with way too much money and time on their hands called Terra greenhouses-it really is a fabulous place. They were having their Christmas shopping party and by giving the tiniest discount and the promise of free food, succeeded in convincing all of their "best" customers to part with their hard earned cash in the thousands. Now it may be too early for all of this consumer madness but I have to say, I was sucked in. The multitude of designer Christmas trees, larger than life outdoor urn compositions (some for over a thousand bucks), the smell of fresh green cedar and eucalyptus, a lovely trio featuring a very elegant older woman with the voice of a young Rosemary Clooney, the hot cider, the free photos and of course, the free food. I am somewhat shameless in my pursuit of free food and I have discovered that it is the secret to getting R to enjoy an event which may result in him opening up his wallet. One has to suss out the area from which the free food is emerging and make friends with the servers. If one has a particular desire for seconds all one has to do is merely ask the server to brig more. I kept R well in the sushi and the wee one well in the cookies enough to do some seriously useless shopping. Now I am all ready for House and Garden magazine to come and photograph my home just in time for the holidays.

oh is it ever beautiful outside. The tree outside in the front is not green but coating with white sugary snow and i's red berries decorating the scene. It is so pretty. I will try to post a photo-but i am so usless at that.
reading Justmekids's blog got me thinking about being extra sensitive to stimulation-for me it is the noise and visual stimulation that I cannot stand. I cannot bear to be in crowded places, esp a mall or sea of people. I cannot stand bright lights and noises that come from different sources or even music sometimes-it gets to be too much noise. Since we moved to the burbs I am so much calmer in my head-it is so peaceful and quiet here and just going back to the city makes me tense despite the fact that I always have a good time. I adore the quiet or the sounds of birds-which are too much sometimes as well. I need to have low lighting in the evening and I cannot stand a light source from another room or location coming into my space. Open doors drive me insane-I need everything to be orderly and clean and calm looking-which is why I am often going around my house and my life pissed off at R because he is someone who lives in chaos (whether he likes it or not). He does not care about mess or noise or disorder or too many people around him. He really wants to move back to the city. He doesn't really seem to get just how stressful I find a chaotic environment to be becasue it doesn't bother him. I am wondering if this is a woman thing-the being over-sensitive to certain stimuli? To other people's moods?

the body

stuck at home with a sick kid. i have been using the television to keep the voices in my head quiet so that I don't have to listen to their negative chatter-their worrisome nattering away about never amounting to anything, about wasting your life away in front of the tv, about how if i just sat down for a minute and listened to them I could see just how depressed and angry i have become about my life-it's emptiness of purpose and cash. i much prefer The View and the Mom Show despite the fact that I despise this kind of thing. In the mean time I have started yoga at home (actually it's "Yoga for Wimps" and it is pretty wimpy-but good stretching for someone decreped like me) and I have started jogging again. My muscles have been complaining very happily about being brought back into existence. I know that if I could just get on top of getting myself back in shape, lose the extra weight etc then I could succeed. I know this is the root of being a strong wise woman. It always comes back to the body with us doesn't it?

under pressure

This is what I do when I am supposed to be looking for a job. I think R might kill me if I don't find one soon. Even my big kid is starting to get embarrassed about it and keeps telling me that I should find a part time job (so I can buy her more stuff of course). With Christmas coming the pressure to spend spend spend is so much stronger and even R wants to re-decorate. It's chronic.

war dance

I am trying to write this with my kid climbing all over me, pushing the keys and grabbing the mouse-it's driving me insane. I seem to be allowed about 4 minutes on the computer when my kid is at home before she decides I am so important to her survival and entertainment. Which is why I never can get anything done.
Yesterday we saw Pachssendale and it was a pretty good love/war story that leaves you feeling glad that you just have to watch war movies and not actually live them. Becasue I am the kind of mother who likes to scare the shit out of my kids, we rented a movie called WAR DANCE which is a lovely and sad documentary about kids in Northern Uganda-survivors of the LRA rebels-some of whom were child soldiers and their preparations to participate in a National dance competition representing their school. It is not graphic but the kids do offer some pretty gruesome images of war that my eleven year old had a hard time with-although she was compelled to the tv throughout the whole thing. I wanted her to know that war is just not a thing of the past, not just a thing of Iraq and Afghanistan and not just a thing for old men to talk about. Check out this movie-especially the scene where the kids get to go to the beach. If you don't smile with love and joy for these kids then you have no soul.

the politcis of love 101

Over the weekend during one of our "discussions" about the state of our affair, R told me that he didn't feel loved by me, that all he felt from me was basically negativity and scorn, that I clearly did not like him (I did have to concede that last point...). I thought this was unfair and depressing considering that despite all of the shittiness I loved him very much, that this seemed to be the only glue we had holding us together-my love, my constant forgiveness, etc. That got me to thinking about whether he wanted me to love him, whether he felt that it was important to him that I love him and how this need refelected on the type and quality of our relationship. I don't know if I am right when I say that I think that to a certain degree a part of loving someone is wanting them to love you back. Does that dictate to a certain degree how much you "give" to the other person in your desire to be loved by them?
Of course when I asked him how important it was to him that I love him he answered that he hadn't ever really thought about it and then allowed an "I guess so"-not very reassuring. I had thought that when he told me he didn't feel loved by me it was him telling me he wished it didn't feel like that, that it hurt him not to feel loved by me. Now I realize that he was saying it to accuse me of being hypocritical, to throw my words and actions back at me. I always seem to get it wrong when it comes to what he feels and thinks.

sick

Now I've gone and got myself sick. My body is finally giving in to this constant negativity. Sore throat-most likely from crying and yelling alternatively, stuffed up, tight chest, aches. And it's the most beautiful day in the world so it's like a double fuck-u. I really really really want and need to get something good going on and I need to do it now-but first I am going to bed, I am going to sleep, I am going to read, I am going to watch the squirrels scamper around outside and the leaves trail downwards. I am going to dream about the future and concoct a do-able plan and I am going to ask the universe to arrange itself once again in my favour. Wish me luck.

more stones

I am black and blue, and not just on the inside.
I have come to the conclusion that I will never be right or justified.
I am still trying to figure out my role in all of this, my mistake, my mess and I don't know. Is it admitting defeat to say that I am too demanding when I know I am not? To say I am wrong when I know I am not? To take responsibility for something I cannot own? Just for the peace? Just to move onward? Because I know resistence is futile? Insistence is futile? If we trace it back far enough who committed the greater sin? Who had the most at stake? And who fucking cares anyway?
I am here moving through the house, picking up this and that, the questions on an endless loop in my head. I know that there are no answers, only days and nights from here until there wherever "there" is. And I do not know how to make the next move, what it should be. The stones in my heart slow me down.
I am the woman who walked into doors.

the urge to paint

Time dwindling down until R gets home from work and the mood of the house shifts-not necessarily in a bad way-definintely a louder messier way-but not a bad way. The injection of testosterone probably does me good, although for now I am relishing the last few moments of PEACE AND QUIET. I am so happy that tv exists, especially for these last few minutes when I can get the little one to become comatose enough to stop asking me questions-even if the sound of her sweet voice has to be replaced with Scooby Doo. I spent a good afternoon raking leaves, flipping through a magazine, helping the little one paint a masterpiece and don't feel a bit guilty about the idleness. I can tell it's fall because I have the urge to paint. Every one of my walls is an unattractive colour in the fall. And the holidays always bring the urge to have a perfect house. Har har.

merry ho-ho

Although it's the end of October, the trees outside my front door are still green-Elm?-they are full of ripe red clutches of berries and birds fighting over the bounty. It looks festive and I am starting to get the first pangs of the Christmas blues-wanting the holidays to be like it is in the magazines and the stress of trying to bridge the gap chasing something that probably doesn't exist. My family still insists that all of the many kids in the family should receive gifts-in spite of the fact that they are all teenagers with more material possessions than I have ever known kids to rightfully possess-but they do now like to throw in a name draw for them on top of that so that they might learn (finally) the joys of giving. R's family is already in negotiations for whether or not all or some will participate in the event, or have one at all and there are emails and phone calls and lots of opinions. It's not even Halloween!
I am not looking forward to it all I have to say. Now that R and I have fairly firmly cemented our relationship as roomates, his generally Scrooge-like attitude towards Christmas, no fucking money in our house and the near-desperate desire to just run away to Mexico for the entire month of December, I feel like a run down cheerleader.

oh I just wanted to ask the universe about a flyer posted around my town advertising a Halloween party with a "pimps and ho's" theme. WTF??? Is this me being an old 80's feminsit Dworkin ghost or is it fucked??

Fucking head lice.

dream or reality?

I had a dream last night that I had a complete nervous breakdown. It started out with me yelling at my kids, and shoving the older one around and really roughing her up and being out of control. I was trying to get them to clean up or something, but they were ignoring me and R wasn't helping. It involved me feeling ganged up on by everyone else who wouldn't see my point of view (a common theme) and ended with me crumpled on the floor babbling incoherently. I could hear myself in my dream, babbling and drooling. Like it was real. Or a warning or something-like a preview of what losing one's mind might feel like. It scared the shit out of me and I woke up. I was in the girl's bed, smushed in between them and didn't want to move for fear of disturbing them. When I did get up R was still in the kitchen and I guess it had been a busy night of bed hopping or I looked like I was stressed because he gave me a hug. I told him about my dream and it amused him in a sympathetic way-like look at my poor almost crazy wife.

good advice

Another day of mind-numbing boredom at home in the burbs with my little one who is my only entertainment and companion. All day long I listen to her monologue and answer her questions (do you remember the ride at the fair that goes up and down? who's birthday is coming up?) and all day I am dreaming of being somewhere else-somewhere where I can think my own thoughts and not pick up anyone else's shit. I swear that is the single greatest killer of relationships-having to pick up someone else's shit day in day out year after year. Advice to every woman in the world-keep your own place!

ask and ye shall receive???

I am going to tell the universe that I would REALLY like a job at the library. It's my secret dream (besides being able to sing). I love books, I love the quiet atmosphere, all of it. I have been ceaselessly sending my resume but I cannot even get an interview. I need an interview so I can find out why I am not getting an interview (besides my complete lack of qualification). SO today I am asking, please universe, arrange yourself so that I might get an interview and I will be forever grateful and kind to you.
I am very happy today because I am the proud mama of a menstruating daughter!! Man, have times have changes since I was young and when I got my period my mother acted like it was something I had planned specifically to ruin her day. We had a special dinner and I made everyone wear red and I put red bindis on our foreheads to signify that we were "in the club". She tasted some red wine and we talked about blood and the moon and how to take care of yourself whilst bleeding. She was very embarrassed and rolled her eyes a lot (but I know that secretly she enjoyed the pomp and circumstance).

a sign

On the way up to the farm for a post-thanksgiving feast I saw this sign oustide a church

Saturday-Family Games
Night - Inflatables!

That's some crazy church

my high horse

I'm feeling pretty sanctimonious today, pretty self-righteous. I love that sometimes, how sometimes I allow myself to get up on that high horse and rail away. Then I usually do what I am railing against doing anyway so it's all a bunch of hot air.
So I really don't see why I should go out of my way to spend my day with toxic scary people to whom I do not matter at all just in the name of family harmony or pretend family harmony. It's not even my family, it's his and he is clearly not mine, not the way I want him to be-he has put his hands up only this close, stay this far and I have no choice but to tolerate it, to accept the limitations of his love and the ripple down effect it has on my life, my heart so today, I really don't see why I should commit to this dysfunction especially when I could spend the day with MY near and dearest. Talk about yer run on sentence! Anyhow, like I said I'lll probably end up going because it might not be worth the guilt (how's that for being a grand scale wimp) to skip the occasion-which may turn out just f-i-n-e after all. But still, I really do love my self-righteousness today and would much rather spend the day drinking wine with my friend in the city than in paradise with her.

little things

I'm supposed to be looking for a job-but I'm not. I am enjoying the quiet and solitude of being alone in my house. It's my drug and for now, I am happy to be addicted to it.
I am tired of the complaining, the feeling stuck, the negativity.
Yesterday I put a big piece of paper on the bathroom wall with the words I AM FEELING and a lovely green sparkly marker. It is a covert way for the big girl to start learning to express herself in a safe way. So far she has written angry, dumb, naive, clueless and this morning, content. I wrote defeated, then tired. R has not written but he has asked me about certain words. I think writing the words has taken the edge of off some of the painful feelings. I think it may have been a really good idea.
Today I ate fresh local strawberries for breakfast-in October! I collected pretty leaves and put the last of the cosmos in a big vase. Tomorrow I get to visit some really wonderful friends. Life can be good when you look at it the right way sometimes.

the bleakness of not getting what I want

We are in mourning over the shitty results of the election. According to R the only people who vote Conservative are either stupid or rich. I think they're all just buffalo happily following the other buffalo over the cliff. My town has just become a conservative riding. If I ever needed a reason to leave, this would be it. My old hood has just become Liberal. I've got nowhere to go. It's bleak.

I push aside my own wants/needs in order to accomodate R.
I need and want to stop doing this.
I don't know how to do this without feeling like I am losing out on his attention or worrying about him getting angry or my life getting harder.
I am beginning to see that raising kids is not the time to talk about things. One needs an empty nest.
I've got a long wait.

tied up

and so since I am on this kick about taking care of myself I walked around yesterday feeling like my life is completely out of control. Everything is unfinished or ignored and disorganized. I am sure some pyschologist would say that I create chaos so that I can avoid dealing with and facing my fears of failure or rejection (I think one already did..) I went to a meeting at the YMCA because I am trying to get a subsidized membership and once I got there I realized that I was told that I didn't even fill out the forms properly and just going there left me filled with a sense of complete and utter failure-like I am still in high school trying to figure out what the fuck I am going to do with my life only my life is half over. What a downer! The guy that I think is going to hire me, well thought, hasn't called me and although I have emailed him twice I am afraid to call him in case he tells me he's changed his mind and thinks I am such a loser that he won't even give me a shot. Maybe he just doesn't check his email and he's waiting for me to call him. I just tie myself into knots trying to come out unscathed only to end up..well tied up in knots.

what I know

Ok, so at my wise old age of 41 I am finally getting that the only way to be "happy" in this life is to take the very best care of myself that I can. I am finally beginning to know that I need to be good to myself, take time for myself, not wear myself out or waste myself away.
For me this means eating well and getting some exercise every day. It means quiet and solitude. It means a clean green space to be in everyday. It means order and pacing. It means connection and conversation with people. It means trying to be creative every day.
It means not allowing the fear of failure or ridicule to guide my choices. It means laughing and relaxing. It means not numbing myself with housework and television. it means not getting caught up in my kids moods. Or R's moods, or anyone's moods- (very hard. very important.) It means being hopeful.
I means not sitting around waiting for someone to love me so I can feel good. It means that my dreams are not contingent upon him loving me, or even being around me. It means that I cannot put my eggs into someone else's basket and expect to reap their rewards.

Easy to say, harder to live. But at least I know now.

ch-ch-ch-changes

I am about to start a new job, and as usual, I am feeling that same sense of fear and dread that I associate with change. The hours will suck and most of the dread/fear and guilt comes from getting home so late, almost bedtime and having to trust R to take care of things at home, which I seriously do not think he can handle. Typically it takes him 2 hours to cook even the simplest of meals and I am already freaking out about how hungry my kids are going to be, not to mention the thrill of coming home to kitchen disasters. R is a good guy, but structure and organization are not part of his world-just what that 4-7 pm period needs. Maybe I am just being negative, or condescending, maybe just making excuses for not trying something new out. I keep wanting to talk myself out of it. My friends-ever pragmatic just shrug and say, try it if you don't like it, just quit.
So I will start slowly, hopefully and get back into the swing of things. This job is a small (perhaps big) step in the direction I would like to go so I feel that I should just suck it up and go for it.

indian summer

I am tired of all of this negative depressing shit. It is a beautiful day today in my neck of the woods. I got to almost have a collision with a deer yesterday as I was jogging, the kids and R and I spent the evening exploring the creek 5 minutes away from our backyard, and it's justs uch perfect weather. I am going to visit a friend for a coffee and some inane talk about decorating or landscaping (which is what we seem to talk about in the suburbs) and I am so bloody content right now with this day that I am going to stop blathering now and go enjoy myself.

stepford wife

My older daughter has accused me of being crabby all the time. R treats me with contempt on a regular basis. Even the little one has a pretend mommy. I am trying very hard not to curl up into a ball and will myself into oblivion.
I am trying (despite the opinions of the people with whom I live) to be positive in my day-to-day life. I try to be present when they are talking to me. I try to say positive things to them and ask lots of questions. I try to smile and play good music. It only seems to annoy them.
I am not trying to be the victim but it seems clear to me that there is something wrong with my approach. Maybe I take my daughter's comments too seriously. Maybe R is right to be suspicious of my motives. The little one also has 3 pretend dogs that she takes for walks holding their leashes (for the record their names are Spot, Mr. Murphy and Furry).

Sometimes, I think that it would be easier to join the medicated legions of 50's wives who were supposed to be just so happy to serve without the obligations to self that we have. It strikes me that this traditional arrangement of man-at-work woman-at-home really can't work in our era of self-actualization, of the expectation of equality. I am an uppity woman, a woman who expects equality and fair treatment. I expect comradery and companionship with my partner, I expect him to take as much pride and care in the domestic as I do, and I expect him to take as much pride and care in the emotional as I do. I expect to take part in politics and commerce and decision making.
Would it make life easier if I didn't expect too much??

a sigh

So, on a lighter note we had a wicked screaming match in the car (complete with name calling and swearing) in front of the kids which resulted in the little one and me crying, the car being pulled over and the two of them going for a walk. The darker note is that the big one also witnessed the entire horrible thing and didn't react at all.

how not to communicate

I am beginning to really realize that any changes that I need to make, I need to make. Maybe it's a man thing but I am finding my man to be extremely resistant to any notion of working things out that goes beyond him saying we have some things to work out. I think it's the old thing about conflict and confrontation that makes him so very uncomfortable, unlike women who really like to get into the juice of things, the depth of things. Of course I have never been one to just let things lie, I have to force the issue every goddamn time. Yet, I am at a loss as to how to communicate with someone who just becomes stone-faced at any attempts I make to talk to him. Then we go around in the same circles -I get upset that he is so uncommunicative, he gets irritated that I am complaining, I get hurt that he's being cold, he feels attacked then overwhelmed. And then there is silence, back to where we started. It's fucking crazy.
It's so boring-even to me at this point but I just can't stop the desire, the need to feel some sort of response from him that is not angry or cold. I know that it may never come, he's got his own stuff to figure out and I suspect that he is just not ready to deal with it, may never be. I suspect that he is afraid of the depth of his frustration, just as I am afraid of the repercussions.
Which goes back to the beginning of taking care of my own life, my own happiness, my own shit. It is such a no-brainer I know but somehow I lost that. I am not moving out, not ending my relationship (which complicates things a hell of a lot I know) but I do need to figure out a way to be amazing within this context...feels like I've got my work cut out for me.

who to communicate with

With a few precious hours of free time on my hands thanks to the miracle of kindergarten, I sat down in my favourite cafe with a coffee and a notepad and proceeded to whip off about 10 pages of my life in about half an hour. I love that creativity flows through heartache although I wish it would flow easier through joy. I ended up walking about 8 kms yesterday, back home and was able to think things through a bit. He's been very nice to me lately so I am sure he's feeling pretty guilty about the whole situation. Maybe he thinks it's business as usual, I don't know. Anyone with small children knows just how difficult it is to actually conduct a relationship that involves adult conversation-add to that a man who is passed out by 10:00 pm and there seems to be a lot of days and nights that go by without ever having even the beginnings of a meaningful exchange. I find that excrutiating -the loneliness of being only casual with someone and longing to connect with them, to talk to them and feel them close to you spiritually and emotionally. Instead you get information about the day, about the next day, about the next day after that, about the weather.

planting seeds

Once you know and can begin to accept that your relationship will not continue on in its present form I think it's easier to communicate with one another. I think for the first time in a very long time we are beginnning to do that. I feel like I haven't got as much to lose by being open and honest and I am not as tied to what he has to say. I am trying very hard to just move forward into a more honest and open place with him and I do not want him to spend his life feeling trapped nor do I want him to live a life without passion-and that means that eventually we will have to go our separate ways. Not yet. But sometime in the future this thing will have run its course. I do feel as though we are not through yet-we have a lot of learning and growing to do with each other, a deepening of our life. Not sure yet how what why where but I think we may be planting some seeds. I hope.

accentuating the positive

I am at a loss as to how to move forward. I feel inert, wanting to wait for a more sure sign of fight or flight. I don't know how to stop the negative stuff from taking front and centre of my mind and heart. He asked me this morning to try and think loving thougths of him (said he would try to do the same for me). The trying aspect made me sad and I responded that I was going to try to think loving thoughts about myself.
I matter. My thoughts matter. My feelings matter.
(my first thought as I wrote this was how pathetic it sounded).
ok, so at least I have a sense of humour.

this is it

I'm going to go out on a limb here and speak the truth. I will most likely regret it, but I am tired of the masquerade and if I can't be honest with you, then I can't be honest with anyone I suppose. We will stay together, but I know my partner of seven years does not love me. At least not in the way I want him to. He knows I know, he knows I've known since we met that he will never be "in love" with me whatever that means. I'm so in love with him. There's the rub, isn't it? Life is hard with him, often lonely, often sad. It's still great when he shines my way. But after years of trying I have finally realized that I can't make him love me, can't make him behave as if he does. It breaks my heart that in staying with me he may never have the opportunity to fall in love again, to find the one. Same for me, although I know that I have made my bed so to speak.

We have a family together, we live together and share our lives. There is always a BUT with us tho, you know? Even in the best of times there has always been an undercurrent of "what's is he missing?" "why doesn't he love me?"

I need to learn to love myself as deeply and honestly as I want to be loved by someone else. Only then can I create the life I dream of for me and my kids, and for him as well. This is the beginning of my journey.