Monkey Lover.
August 27, 2009
Most days lately seem full of introspective moments.
I’m marrying in a little over a month, so obviously I must think of every little thing that can go wrong in order to plan for it.
But that’s unrealistic.
I’m not that good a planner, even if the thought were possible.
And the things that tend to go wrong with Nick and I are almost impossible to plan for, as they are generally the most implausible things one could think of, and they often leave me with a ‘what the hell?’ expression at the end of our ‘discussions’ simply because I honestly have no idea where some of the things I get upset about come from.
And it is mostly me.
Not that things never bother him, but rarely does he feel the need to discuss it, tending to look at our relationship as a whole versus at a particular moment.
But to me, the moments stand out and scream so loudly sometimes that nothing that we have done or have been can quite measure up at that moment, and so I need all of the bad to be tempered down into a manageable mass, because I simply cannot take the idea that we aren’t going to be okay.
And there is always that idea, during the bad moments.
The idea that this won’t work, that we can’t make it, that we’re wasting our time.
But we’re not.
It’s just easy to think that way during the bad moments.
Easy to search for a way out JUST BECAUSE.
I have spent a good portion of my time in my relationship worrying that Nick was going to take advantage of one of those times – and he’s tried once or twice.
But I didn’t give up and I fought the good fight.
And I won.
He would say we both won.
And he’d be right.
The end result being that I can say, with a month to go before the big day, that I don’t so much necessarily fear either of us jumping and wishing we’d taken the back door escape route instead, but that I do fear not making him happy in the long run.
That’s kind of a youthful way to look at it, I suppose.
I can’t MAKE him happy any more than I can make him an orangutan, but the notion that we make other people happy is a hard one to let go of. I can influence his emotions and cast a good or bad light on his day. I can make his life harder and I can make it easier. But to be happy is a choice he must make.
And one I’m trying to learn how to make for myself.
One I really want to get right.
But I need him to be happy. Need him to want me, need him to think that I’m wonderful, even when I drive him nuts. and being where we are means that on most planes I know that we already have that, he already does those things, but what about on the day to day?
When we’re in the same city, when we’re in the same house? When he’s putting his junk on the kitchen counters and my head is rotating, is he going to think that I’m crazy? Or are we going to dig deep, be honest, and find the compromises that will work?
Why do I spend all my time planning for the little things? Everyone else is planning what they’ll do when they have kids. ME? I want to know where Nick’s going to throw his spare change and car keys when he walks in the door – and that he understands my innate NEED to have all the dishes clean before bedtime.
How can happiness live with that kind of insanity?
But so far it does.
He chooses it.
Chooses me.
Maybe it’s that I’m afraid I won’t live up to my expectations of his expectations of me. Yes, blink at that if you will – take it in once or twice, as it took me quite a while to get there myself.
I’m busily putting words into his mouth, into his head telling him that I can’t BE more.
And he simply wants me to be the most I can be FOR me. Being happy, finding something I love, doing everything I can to live a happy, healthy, productive life.
How can I, on one hand, love myself and who I’ve become at this age, 29 – sooo much and then doubt that other people can see the things in me that I like? Or how can I think seeing those things AND seeing the bad have to be mutually exclusive? They can do both.
If I can, they can, he can.
I think I give myself a harder time than most people do – or perhaps this sort of self-flagellation is a normal hobby of the chemically balanced – but can you blame me?
It’s not easy to give yourself a fair break when you want to be better and better and better because you’re inspired to be so.
There’s this light inside of me since we’ve been together that dances around – and it’s not because he put it there. It’s because he helped me remember that I’m worth having a light – I have things inside of me that are worth sharing and lighting up and delighting in.
That’s what I need to remember.
What I can make better and keep better about myself.
As part of the bits of myself that I hand out throughout the days and weeks.
If I meet my expectations for myself, I’ll be happy.
And if I’m happy, he’s happy.
Orangutan.
Need LIPO!
August 25, 2009
Anyone have any thoughts on whether or not lipo would work for all the crap stuck in my sinus area?
Surely it would work.
SOMETHING has to.
Thoughts on a life.
August 24, 2009
I’m not one of those people that really apologizes for absences.
You chronicle things on your blogs – and as such, it becomes a way of communicating with others around you, people you know and don’t, and especially for yourself.
So when there are breaks it’s hard to not say that you’re sorry, but the truth is, life happens.
So like a good friend, I expect my blog to understand when I’m gone.
And it does.
I hope you do too.
Life is gathering energy at the moment, expending only when it has to, and only in small bursts.
The wedding is coming up, the custody battle will come to a head, the 13th birthday of the best thing that ever happened to me – but before that, this week, a funeral.
I honestly wish I’d known him better.
He laughed at my jokes, even my unfunny ones, just to make me feel better. He liked being included, liked people who were sober enough to chat with and hang out with. He liked having fun, liked being a part of a peer group and being accepted, as all teens do, but more than anything he loved.
He loved his friends, he loved his family, he loved my family – and seeing the people gather around him, hearing about how this story is circling around the community, finding out just how small our community is, is doing my heart good.
Gaven would have loved people coming together over him. Would have loved the friendships being renewed, would have loved the effort his family is giving towards being sober, would have loved everyone laughing while remembering him.
He would have hated people crying over him, but would have really loved to know that he was so loved.
And he was.
I didn’t know him as well as I wish I did now.
I’ve learned more about him since his death last week than I did before and I’m sad at the opportunity I lost to really get to know a good kid.
I knew he had a good heart. I knew he was a good kid. I knew he loved my sister and her family. And when it comes right down to it, a good character MATTERS to me, and so I liked Gav.
I’ve been more affected by his death and the tragedy of the fact that it was caused by neglect of the system of healthcare and of government. This 17 year old boy didn’t have to die and I’d be lying if I didn’t say there was part of me that really wants someone to suffer for that.
Though the blame, in my eyes, falls a bit closer to home in this instance, even with his brother’s stupid actions, Gav wouldn’t have died had someone just listened instead of lumping him in with so many others.
Here’s the thing, folks.
Don’t judge someone based upon a mistake. Judge someone based upon their actions after the mistake, before the mistake and around it. If it defines their character as a whole, that’s one thing.
But the majority of us spend our lives doing nothing much bad, nothing much extraordinarily good and go out with a whimper.
Gav lived an extraordinarily good life to those around him and made a mistake and went out with a bang.
So judge someone wholly – not in pieces.
And for heaven’s sake, don’t let a youthful mistake color the pattern and path of a young boy or girl’s life. We’ve all made stupid mistakes and only by sheer dumb luck have lived to tell the tell.
Some of us get caught.
Some of us don’t.
But we all walk the path of youth.
So when going about your life, remember that.
If not for my sake, for the sake of a boy that loved so hard and died too young.
Judge others and form opinions not on the clothes, on the talk, – but judge folks on the WALK of their life. And if they fall, see if they let it keep them on the ground or if they get back up and start walking the path again.
This experience has changed me.
Changed me inexorably.
Opened my eyes to things I really didn’t know existed.
But now I do.
I wish I could have known him better.
And I wish I could thank him for all he has taught me.
I heart my child.
August 21, 2009
It’s a matter of truth that my daughter is going to call many times during the school year.
Her teachers know this – or are learning, the office knows this – out of pure experience, and both Abbey and I know this.
Normally it’s the usual ‘I’m sick’ followed by the ‘I can’t make it all day, Mommy!’ whine.
Today, however, it was the ‘I sprained my hand, I can’t write!’ conversation – a new one for us.
“How did your sprain your hand, Abbey?”
“Talking.”
(Insert long pause here where I started grinning…)
‘Talking? Talking hurts your hand?”
“Well, no. I was talking and I accidentally hit the bleachers…”
“Okay…”
“But I can’t write so I don’t know how I am going to do school for the rest of the day.”
“By writing very slowly and carefully.”
You get the basic idea.
How many parents do you know have their child try to call out after injuries from TALKING?
I can’t make this stuff up.
Parenting is awesome.
Just in case you wondered.
August 18, 2009
Hi. My name is Lish.
I have walking pneumonia.
Which means I feel sick a lot when I walk.
Or not.
Either way it means that I don’t feel good and I can’t go visit Gav in the ICU.
Apparently folks in the ICU need to avoid things like walking pneumonia – because we can’t have super sick people trying to walk around all over the place.
A lot of people I love are having a hard time this week.
I hate that.
My love should be their hedge o’ protection.
But it isn’t.
Maybe my super powers are weakened when I’m sick.
I hate being sick.
Doing the math.
August 14, 2009
My having run out of meds is hitting hard today, as the nerves of this all gang up on me.
I can’t afford the meds, really… I’m totally broke on one hand and trying to deal with inflated summer energy/gas/spending bills.
It doesn’t help that I have absolutely no control over the family purse strings – this long distance separation means that I have barely any recourse.
And Nick’s quite the control freak when it comes to money.
Not a bad thing – a good thing, but he doesn’t have the list in front of him of things remaining to do and I do.
It’s massive.
Huge.
And all has to be done in the last two weekends I have free.
THIS one and one in September.
And then I get married.
That’s all I have free.
And he seems to think I need to be okay with waiting.
Because he doesn’t want to take money out of savings.
And I get that.
But the wedding planning can’t be based around our paydays – some weeks need more, some need less – which is how we end up with the rest in savings anyway…
AND is why we’re saving?
Bah.
Yes. Everything costs more than originally planned.
I can’t explain that logically, except that – well. When I’m nuts, life turns nuts.
And when life turns nuts, it makes me more nuts.
And when I’m more nuts, I don’t plan as well as I should.
And I’m not a bargain shopper to begin with.
That’s not to say I don’t have bargains.
Just that I’m annoyed I had to shop for them.
And being in the mood I am today – with everything hitting hard.
Well.
Annoyances multiply.
Yes. Exactly. Agree(1)
August 14, 2009
From cypressandak.blogspot.com:
“It’s official. I am ready for the wedding. Not because all the projects are finished, but because the wedding has taken over my life.
If my mind were a computer (and believe me, it’s not), the wedding would be a program running in the background at all times — with hundreds of popup messages per day. I am able to get everything else done, but it’s almost as if all of those other responsibilities revolve around the center of the universe. Which is The Wedding.
What did I think about before I was contemplating centerpieces over every lunch break? What did I do with my time when I wasn’t making invitations and programs and bridesmaid gifts and writing welcome letters and toasts and vows and day-of timelines?
I. Completely. Forget.
I used to think of myself as a person. But the wedding industrial complex has nearly redefined my identity to: BRIDE. Nearly, but not quite entirely. Which is how I’m able, through my remaining scrap of self-awareness, to see a glimmer of the Jules I was before the wedding. The person I still am, under layers and layers of tulle.”
Wow. I don’t think I could have put it better myself.
A computer program.
That’s it entirely.
WTF.
August 13, 2009
So. Apparently I’ve talked myself back into studying AND taking the 7 instead of the 11.
IN TWO MONTHS.
Yeah. That’s what I thought too.
Fucking insane.
My ovaries are choking me.
August 13, 2009
Oh heavens.
Hormones.
They get the best of us sometimes.
I can’t help it.
I’m 3 or 4 (I can’t remember) days off of my meds because I can’t remember to phone them in, and well.
Yeah.
Add that to the hormones that are… rampant this time of the month and you have one emotional Lish.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing.
Some people thing I’m too calm about things I should be emotional about and these periods are enough to make them shut up again for months.
Most people that know me well know I’m entirely too emotional all the time, and so they run for cover during these times.
The rest of the people just don’t give a shit and it’s to them that I entreat – stop writing moving stories/blogs/twitters/emails!
I can’t handle it.
I just teared up at one of my favorite no-nonsense wedding blogs – yes I read wedding blogs, mainly for the articles – and felt incredibly stupid because I was imagining feeling that way myself.
And what they were feeling wasn’t anything I’d ever feel. A calm sense of relief.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt a calm sense of relief.
A mountain of relief.
A wave of relief, but those both come in loud crashes and tend to overwhelm me.
And then I nap.
But calm?
I don’t do calm.
Though lately I don’t do much of anything – just sit around agape at the list of things I have to do.
Like today – meet with the caterer and tell him what I want to eat on my wedding.
Do they not get that I just want to avoid panic vomit on my wedding dress?
That I’m choking every time I realize it’s time to get invites out?
That I nearly cried this morning when my priest told me he was transferring and someone else would finish up our marriage stuff and marry us?
I can’t think food.
And do you know what that means to someone like me?
I ALWAYS THINK FOOD!
THIS WEDDING IS RUINING MY APPETITE!
lol.
Okay.
So it’s not. I’m enjoying myself at the moment. But I’m tearing up at sweet stuff and I HATE that.
I hate being a girl sometimes – and being girlish and ly I hate pretty much all the time – though I’m so darned good at it.
Bah. Hum-hormones.
Dang it.
August 11, 2009
I’m apparently running a 5k this weekend.
With NO experience.
