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Friday, January 20, 2017

MONIE MONIE (part two)

FUCK. I'm having the same bad morning this morning that I had so many flipping times during my marriage... a hangover from bad news, so to speak.  And BECAUSE I DID THIS WHOLE FUCKING THING IN ORDER TO STOP THIS FROM HAPPENING TO ME AND MY KIDS, I am frustrated in a sort of in a different place than I was for the past ten years or so.  A decade.  So. Well.

Different place. Much more better.  Not as much sorrow and anger for me, but actually a dose more rage for the kids. Whole bag less care for the whys... Interesting.
Humanity is what it is and I'm still carrying around my good bones but still...

Distance really is a bellringer, i tell you.

Probably none of this makes any sense . Bellringer, what?

But. Anyhow. Money.
Part two.

I think because we were very middle class growing up and had a middle-lower-class neighborhood and my parents made clothes 'special' whereas many of my friends just 'got them' , i have always been aware of where i have fit in financially amongst my peers.  Sometimes I had more, but more often I had less, or it was more of a struggle not having the cool clothes and so forth. Sometimes I can hear myself saying no to the kids because i don't want them to miss that feeling, I don't want them to assume they can have it all.. I think it makes them more real and more connected to the world to hear the no and to have to come to grips with it.  My kids have an awful lot.  My nos are pretty insignificant in their lives, and probably feel arbitrary to them.  Money weirdness.  As an adult now, its something i wish were easier to talk about with friends... i have a lot of curiousity about how people spend their money, how much debt they carry and so forth. How do they afford shopping, is it budgeted, do they have to be careful or is it thoughtless, for instance? What about credit cards?

Money.  Work.  I have worked since i was fifteen and work ethic is strong with me.  I like to work. Thank you Bowie family genetics.  Put me on a farm and I'd be the clydesdale. I've always been able to find work and filled my heart and mind with sustenance from the jobs I've chosen.

When i was first married, I couldn't find the work i wanted and we lived on student loans entirely... i was very depressed while i waited for the work. . . then i slowly got work, and a second job and we still lived on student loans.  When we moved to start his next program we were back to loans and my unemployment and employment as homemaker magic-maker mother. (Fireworks, baby, FIREWORKS) ... And then he got work but it paid for a mortgage and two more weeks of the month. Loans. And the help of the state with food for us . Thank you for that, state.
And then ...........within the space of a month, our income tripled.  ............I remember getting a deposit for five thousand dollars and just needing to lie down.  I bought a blanket for the bed that I'd been wanting. It was 99 dollars and I couldn't believe I had the freedom to get it.  I am keeping it in the settlement because I am the only one who knows what I am talking about or what it meant to me.
Amazing.

And now, I am divorcing the income earner in the equation.  He is being generous in that he is giving more than the state demands, and we are splitting most things, but not that loan debt.  I have my own but he will be paying back what we lived on together while i sort out how to restart my financial life and get my feet back underneath me after being knocked on my ass.

So, this is the setup I find myself in presently.

RING DEM BELLS.

The bann is on the door, but there ain't no wedding happening...

RING DEM BELLS.

Friday, January 13, 2017

Money, roots and shoots.. (part one)

Money:

It has come to my attention over and over again, that it is one of the many issues that I have that I should look at. In this winter of my discontent (take 2), I am looking at it.  They say she is unemployed, yes, but she may reach nirvana, and isn't that going to be amazing?

Yeah, I'm being so sarcastic, it actually feels dirty.
So don't read the above.

Anyhow, money.  At its roots, it will reflect back onto my parents, and their parents... The dad who was very poor but had most-of-the-time enough and sometimes not enough... (no winter coat in Maine) , the mom who had more than enough and expected the same (but not an easy family,no.) .  And the way they worked together to grow their family and show us the uses of money.  My dad was factory management eventually and planned and saved and invested money and left my mom situated well for the rest of her life when he died suddenly at 68.  He bought us the expensive sneakers at the mall because he wasn't aware of comparison shopping and my mom made him take them back... My mom did the household budgeting but didn't pay the bills, and i mean that literally, he took that responsibility.  I remember a story she tells of making a casserole for the two of them in their early marriage which was so terrible (she didn't pour off the water from the hotdogs--- don't even. Don't even.). And my dad wouldn't throw it away because of money and they ate it.
Another one:  my mom's favorite aunt sent her 50 bucks as a gift and my dad said they had to use it for bills.

Right? There's a lot in those stories.  A care, a counting... some bullying, on both their parts I think, money as a power tool...and a thing of loss and privilege.

And the person i admire most in the world is my grandmother, my dad's mom.  She had a crap husband and six kids and managed to feed them when he left to find work in another state, she killed her own chickens, made her own butter and not out of anything but necessity.  She kept busy, filled her time with food and 'making' and was the smartest thing in a recliner when I knew her.  She laughed like a bowl full of jelly, for real, and I've wanted to talk to her and my dad so much about J and what I could ever have done about it all... and about me, where I go from here.  I think I get a lot of my self-recrimination from a failed comparison to my Grammie Bowie... not one she would ever have endorsed, by the way... its a romanticizing of depression-era living and my parallel world is full of it... and i see its flaws and carry them anyway.

These are my roots.
Get some Cindi down below...

Money Changes Everything : Cindi Lauper
https://youtu.be/pp4suZ4jNXg
https://youtu.be/pp4suZ4jNXg


Thursday, January 5, 2017

New Year 2017 and some Hallelujah chorus ERUPTS... somewhere...

It has been a year. Of many many endings and some fits and starts, but so many of the endings... I'm so glad that it is over, that we celebrate an encapsulation and I get a chance to look forward with a real knowledge that I won't have to repeat any of that, ever.  All the first days on my own, those first packing ups, a more true understanding of what i thought was a marriage. . .new friends, with a wider world of experience than i'd ever have expected,  holidays on my own, first time traditions for the kids, for me.  I got a fake christmas tree this year in order to avoid an old tradition, and the need for help, and the deforestation of the world...  and at first it nearly broke me ... but then, when it was up independently and quickly and already lit and boom, It was a really great thing... a 'mine' thing... I only missed the smell ... (and i remedied that with a candle, baby...) so much so that i saved and got myself a gigantic one the day after Christmas on super sale... . So now I have two.. and the days will be LIT.


:) 

I did a lot of yoga over New Year's and an awful lot of dancing... yoga style.  I felt my body sink right back into itself. There was a retreat and a sister and a very old friend surprise.  ANd so much damn laughter.  Fall off your seat laughter. And I have missed that for years and years.  YEARS AND YEARS.  Why would anyone live in a place like that? Without those laughs? I've got a lot of questions, and I get to be my own guide for a while, with an open road as well.  Get that. 

I know what I need to do, just not necessarily how to do it.  But I'm figuring it out... and it may include tiny sips of whiskey, it may involve some whacked out painting, a drum or two and it will definitely involve fortitude, quiet peace and delight.

I do hope that I write more but am looking into starting it up somewhere more anonymous, as J's connection to it is still a slight tinge on my ability to speak plainly, i suppose.  Or something like that.  You know. Meh. I don't know.  I have a real attachment to the name and to the spot.  I can work on it. 

Sunday, December 11, 2016

Guidelines...

I want to believe in the romance of the winter of my discontent. Another one. I feel the darkness of these early days, shortened by my distance from the sun... and I want to take my shoes off and pad about in my creative juices, making colors on all the walls.  There is a sort of delirium to it, and there are children gadding about, and they need to be fed. I wonder if I am heading for white coats and padded rooms sometimes... the way I am so internal ....

I've signed up to take a portraiture class and I'm very excited. Its cheap and online and so, that has its sadness, but it does allow me to work at my pace, and during the more and more infrequent naps, or when i wake because of the insane not-a-puppy-anymore in the middle of the night. I've always been mildly afraid of painting or drawing faces... in profile? Sure thing. But that damn nose! Straight on, a definite problem. I'm looking forward to working in my own style (whatever that is) with a guide ...



I've started to go back to Quaker Meeting more often. I had my first 'call' to speak a few weeks back... when you are inspired by the divine so heavily that nothing can stop you from standing up and speaking out... yeah, that full body shaking drive.  I spoke about joy and the need to celebrate who we are as joyful, hopeful creatures in the face of a world that doesn't seem to be focused correctly. BURBLE BURBLE.
It was intense, and the afteraffects of it left me down in the dumps for almost a week.  These holidays are a rough season, these firsts... although last year we knew we were separating at Christmas, no one else did... a special kind of hell, and I am glad to have more truth and authenticity in my life this year.

Yah, so, I don't know. It was a rough weekend, and I had some flashbacks to some stuff I never ever want to live through anymore, in any fashion, and this time, I need to make some promises to myself that I actually keep, about all that.  And its sad, and sucky, and not something I can send to the ether.
Damn the man. Damn.

Vaguery aside, I do have hope for these new guides and ways forward... sometimes I'm just hanging on, and sometimes I'm pulling someone else along for the ride. And its all a damn ride, after all.

Sunday, December 4, 2016

Seventh grade, bitches.

Boy,  when i think about writing for someone else, i feel an awful lot of pressure. Boy.  Pressure of the internal 'you really suck' variety.  And a huge resistance, as if editing my work, or changing my  Words were some kind of chastisement to a god given gift, when really it is just a fear that my first try wasn't perfect, not good enough.... that i'm not instantaneously recognized as a literary or some sort of genius.  Damn the man.

Its pretty amazing how deep the resistance goes though, its almost hard to think about, like some spell laid by the evil seventh grade bitch who first called me not cool enough. And that bitch lives inside my head, and has taken over a large part of my inner world for a long time.
Its an Overlaid webbing, coloring a lot of the things that i have done in the past, the things i do in the present.

I think most women that I know still recognize that bitch, know her pretty well at this point, but not well enough to be compassionate towards, although even the suggestion puts me back on a better path. Poor thing, she's got her own bitch living in there, too.

Funhouse mirrors baby.

As far as the writing goes, I've slowed down to dire levels. Not even journaling this amazingly challenging year, and I feel like I'm going../ I already know that I am sorry for it. There is so much going on internally, and it is a loss that so many things will have slipped away without a record.

Blaghblah. Trying to push through .
Love you, see you soon. Hopefully.

Wmx